#I did do a little bit of research on Odin
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SUPERHEROES (2)
jackie taylor x fem!reader
Summary: jackie accompanied y/n to her home, something unexpected occurs and her power showered up.
Warnings: fluff, jackie!thor.
Note: English is not my first language.
The blonde walked to the bathroom, shirtless. A satisfied smirk reposing on her pink lips when she started to clean her abdomen.
Y/N stood up and put on her underwear, her breath a little irregular by the recent orgasm. When she leaned down to grab her trousers, something caught her attention. She put it and leaned down again, looking under the bed.
Why Jackie had a hammer under her bed?
She tried to grab it to inspect better, but by her surprise, she can't.
"What the hell?" She murmured under her breath, removing her hair from her face. "Jackie! Why do you have a hammer glued to the floor?" She asks, not believing her girlfriend.
Jackie opened her eyes, throwing away the towel and walking fastly to her bedroom again. She saw Y/N looking under her bed until she approached, a frown on her face.
"It's for a project! You know, colleges are weird." She lied, pulling Y/N up gently. She know that her girlfriend didn't buy it by the suspicious look throwing at her. "I found it and I liked it, that's all. And it's not glue." She admitted, leaning down and grabbing the hammer easily. "See?" Jackie tend it to Y/N.
"Jackie, I couldn't raise it up before." Y/N explains, crossing her arms and gazing the hammer suspicious.
"Try now." Jackie suggested, moving the hammer towards her.
Y/N rolled her eyes but give another try. She wrap her right hand on the handle, and when she is going to raise it and Jackie pull off her hand, the hammer fell to the floor with a hard sound, bringing Y/N with it too.
Then, Jackie remembered that something similar happened when she told to Shauna and she tried to hold the hammer. The blonde cursed and leaned down, grabbing with her hands Y/N's face.
"Shit! Are you okay?" Jackie softly ask, her eyes filled with worry.
Y/N scoffs, the heavy hammer almost hit her right ankle. "I told you! Why can you lift it if you aren't strong!" She said, her eyebrows knitted and her eyes falling on the hammer, seeing a symbol in the middle. On the corner sides, something that looks like runes decorate it around the wall.
"I'm sorry... I forget. Let me help you." Jackie rasped out, helping Y/N with both hands.
"You forget!? What the hell, Jackie! Why can you raise it and I can't?" Y/N questioned incredulous, emphasizing with her hands.
Jackie swallowed, a timid smile approaching on her face. "Come here." She intertwined a hand with hers and walked towards the small bed, sitting with her. "I'll explain everything to you since I found the hammer, okay?" Y/N has an unreadable expression but slow, she nods with her head. The blonde nods too, taking a breath. "Alright. You'll see... I found it around five months ago, in Wiskayok before I came to study at Rutgers. I was walking to my home the day I found, usually Shauna drive me but that day she needed to do something urgent with her parents... Anyways, a half way from my house, the are a waste ground and funnily in the middle something shined, the hammer. Well, the mjorlnir. Shauna told me the name a lot of time when she researched those months... I walked there to see what it is and I saw the mjorlnir. I saw a light blue illuminating the symbol and something inside me was telling me to hold it up. And that's what I did," Jackie shrugs, nonchalantly. "I lifted it and the light blue stopped. I took it to my home and I call Shauna. She helped me to figure it out." She finished, a nervous smile playing on her lips.
Y/N take a breath, assimilating everything Jackie told her. She bit her bottom lip, perplexed. "And what," she cleared her throat. "What can you do with... the mjorlnir? Lift it?" She asks, the last thing unsure.
"I have powers!" She announced at her, excited. "Shauna found out that it's a Nordic mythology thing... Actually the mjorlnir belongs to Thor, Odin's son and the god of thunder. Not everyone it's worthy to lift the mjorlnir. This hammer," Jackie moves the mjorlnir in the air a few times like it is a feather. "can only be raised for the one who is worthy of it." She explains, this time a little calmer since she can share some information about it.
"And you are?" Y/N lowly said, incredulous. Jackie smashed her arm gently. "Sorry, but it's weird. What powers do you have?"
Jackie thinks about it. The truth is that she never face something to know if she has it or no. But something inside her knew that she has them. "I don't know." She simply said, her gaze lost in the floor, letting out the intertwined hand.
"Then, how do you know?" Y/N asks in a softer tone, seeing the sadness taking Jackie's features.
"I just know..." She muttered, convinced.
Y/N let out a quiet sigh. She took the same hand that was intertwined with hers before and with the other grab her chin, her hazel eyes on her now. "If you say you have, I trust you." She said, giving her a small smile before peck her lips.
Jackie hummed, grateful. She closed her eyes momentarily, opening them to see Y/N's beautiful loving eyes on her. "I have extra lucky to found you too. My year was sucking until I met you and then, started dating you." She brushes her shoulder with hers with a silly smirk, Y/N roll her eyes with a smile. "It's truth! I was lonely here, my best friend is in Brown."
Y/N gave her another chaste kiss, shutting her up. "Well, super power girl. I need to come back to my room in time. Can you, please, accompany me?" She murmurs on her mouth.
The blonde closed the gap and brushing their noses, she deposited her lips on hers. "Do you really need to go today?" She asks after kissing her.
"Hmm. I promised to Lia I will be there for her tonight." Y/N explains, standing up and tending the shirt on the floor to the owner, who roll her eyes but put it on. "C'mon, not be a baby with that face."
Jackie shrugs, putting away the hand pinching her cheeks and stood up, walking to the chair where her jacket is. She looked to the mirror, fixing her hair in a decent ponytail and fixing her clothes. She could heard Y/N's laugh.
"You have lucky to have a hot girlfriend..." Jackie muttered, her eyes still on the mirror.
"You are so humble." Y/N comments quietly, seeing how her girlfriend turns around, grabbing her apartment's keys. She put on her jacket, walking out while Jackie follows her.
"Hey...! You are too, don't be jealous." Jackie added.
•••
"You love wearing that jacket, uh?" Y/N comments, Jackie's fingers lacing with hers while they are going to her apartment that is not that far away.
Jackie looked her jacket with a nostalgic smile. "Yep! That and I looked hot on it." She wiggles her eyebrows, chuckling when Y/N roll her eyes. "I miss the yellowjackets." She admitted.
"Be careful your actual team don't hear that." Y/N teases her, swinging their hands softly.
The blonde let out a quiet laugh, nuzzling her head on her neck. It's getting colder and the weather threatened them to rain in any moment. She let out her hand and wrap an arm around her waist, kissing her neck and hearing Y/N soft chuckle.
"Stop, it's ticklish." Y/N murmurs, leaning her head to the spot where Jackie is, trying to hide her neck.
Some drops finally hit the floor, and consequently them. Jackie let out a tiny yelp, cursing because the humidity would ruin her hair. It didn't help that Y/N tell her that she was warned by her to grab an umbrella.
Y/N laugh when Jackie grab her hand and start to run, the rain getting stronger and pouring on them. "Stop laughing, Y/N!" Jackie whined, turning a corner where the roads hold puddles there and were hit by cars. The blonde feared they will be splash on them and avoided the edge.
A few horns were heard, alongside with whistles to call their attention. "We can take you whatever you want to go!" A male voice said, accompanied by some laughter from his friends and himself.
Jackie clenched her jaw, not paying them attention and a few steps forward from Y/N, she guided them to approaching the building where her girlfriend lives.
"Don't be boring, girls! We can have some fun." Other guy spoke, the car stopped a few meters from them, two of them getting out of the old car.
Y/N held Jackie's hand stronger, not liking how it is turning. The blonde turned to look at her and saw her scared face, and that was enough for her to stop on her tracks and look with a disgusted face towards the boys.
"Stay away from us." She hissed, her thumb rubbing circles on Y/N's palm to calm her, and control herself.
They look each other with snide smiles. "You look very scary." The blonde tall talk, smug plastered on his face.
Jackie didn't like when people underestimate her. She removed her wet hair from her eyes, a fake sweet smile on her lips now. "I can be scary, dickhead. Stay away from us." She gave them a challenging look.
They laugh on her face, but she could appreciate that the only one she spoke didn't like what Jackie called her. Y/N pull from her hand towards hers when they walked towards them. Jackie swallowed, not feeling scared at all, more like annoyed.
"Or what would you do?" He mocked, crossing his arms on his chest. Small laughter falling from their mouth.
Jackie feels rage inside her. She loosened her grip on Y/N's hand and taking a step forward, she punched his face in a bold move. Y/N gasped, covering with both hands her mouth. The guy in question had his head to a side, turning his face slowly towards Jackie, a thread of blood falling from his nose.
"You regret this." He mumbled, making a move to grab her. However Jackie is faster and retreat a few steps back, making the blonde boy to almost fall to the ground.
The sound of thunder resounded away from them. The rain hitting the pavement with force. Jackie looks at Y/N, her breath catching on her chest. "Stay behind." She lowly said, pushing her gently a few steps back.
The guy in question seem really pissed now. The other one throw a punch to her way, but with a reflex she didn't know she has, avoid it. Jackie grab the fist into her hand and twisted his hand with force, he let out a pained scream.
Jackie's breath is irregular, a brief frown on her perfect eyebrows. Did she do that? Drops of water fall from her eyelashes, blurring a little her vision.
The blonde guy throw his punch to her face, this time he punched her, hard on her right cheek. Jackie let out a low hurt sound, bringing a hand to her cheek and massaging it. She can taste her blood on her mouth. Her hazel eyes found the guy with a smug smirk that soon was remove.
Jackie turn her hand into a ball and with the other hand grab his wet white shirt, his face passed from smugness to a scary one. "Your eyes..." He muttered lowly, his eyes fixed on hers.
She frown, confused. Jackie blinked a few times, pushing him on the wall behind her. "You are going now. Take your friend and never again try to bother another girl." She spat, the thunder now above them. A loud sound from the sky made them look up.
However her attention was interrupted when the other guy came to remove her from his friend, failing. Jackie heard him before he approached her and without looking she kicked him with her leg, hearing a pained sound falling from his lips.
A new sensation run for her veins, she could feel something coming towards her. And like it is telling her to extend a hand to an empty street, the sound of a metallic thing was heard. Y/N saw something fly in front of her eyes, stopping because Jackie grabbed it. The mjorlnir. She saw too how her girlfriend put the hammer on his chest and how his face started to contort, his face becoming red and his breath getting slower.
"Do you understand me?" Jackie whispered, but Y/N could hear her.
"Jackie! He can't breath!!" She approached them, putting a hand on her shoulder and gently squeeze it.
Jackie swallowed, loosening the mjorlnir on his chest. He gave big breath of air, his chest up and down in a fast way. He cleared his throat and nod, slowly trying to stand up and help his friend. Y/N hold Jackie's hand, only if her girlfriend has in mind to finish her job. They watch how them get in the car and drive fastly, away from the couple.
"Let's go." Y/N muttered, shivering a little. She dropped Jackie's hand and start to walk to the building.
Soon Jackie copied her, the grip on the mjorlnir stronger while her eyes fixed on her, a thin line on her mouth. The sound of the rain is muffled when they get inside, a sigh of relief escaped from Y/N's mouth when the heat inside meet her body, but it will not enough until she pull off her wet clothes.
Her mind is a spiral. She almost can't wrap what Jackie told her before and then, she fight with two boys two inches taller than her without looking bothered by it.
"Y/N..." Jackie calls her in a thread of voice. The sound of their wet shoes echoing the hall. "Are you mad?"
Y/N shakes her head without looking at her, she step inside of the lift when the doors opened. "It's weird everything happened today." She comments, pressing the button while shrugs.
Jackie frown, leaning her back on the brown wall. "I shouldn't told you." She scolded herself, rubbing her eyes.
"No! You should said it sooner... What I want to say Jackie," Y/N let out a frustrated sight, closing her eyes. "That not everyday you see your, apparently, normal girlfriend to fight some dudes with their arms the double stronger than you. I know what you told me before, but it's weird!" She rant out, rubbing her cheeks.
The blonde let the mjorlnir on the floor carefully, and wrap an arm around her shoulder, bringing Y/N to her side while her other arm wrap around her waist. "I would fight them even if I don't have power. You are my limit, Y/N." She admitted, kissing her head lovingly.
Y/N turned her head to look at Jackie, who has a soft look on her hazel eyes. Small drops of water falling from her hair to her face, running towards her chin and falling on the floor.
"I know." Jackie whispered, grabbing Y/N's face between her hands and sealing their lips together in a slow kiss. They separated after a few minutes, the blonde leaned her forehead on her with her eyes closed, her thumbs caressing her cheeks. "Me too."
"You are a dork." Y/N muttered, biting a smile watching Jackie. "I never imagined say the first I love you in this way."
Jackie chuckles, nodding. "I admit that I imagine it in a lot scenarios in my head, but never this one."
Y/N turns her head to the side, her hands on Jackie's hips. "Do you tell everything to Shauna, right?"
"That predictable I am?" Jackie looks with a smile how Y/N laugh, nodding with head. "I can't wait to introduce her to you."
"Yeah. I need team up with someone to tease you." Y/N comments, the lift's door opened and she walked out.
Jackie smile turned into a frown.
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…
I–
All right, y’all, I’ve got some things to say.
Spoilers for ramblings about Dislyte Unknown Collection Story Mode:
First, some positives!
• There were some pretty interesting concepts introduced: Raven having premonition and memory-erasing powers, using her wings + comet/shooting star + all how it influences the EU: the use of stone tablets, giving out only pieces of information to the public, not interfering with the future, etc.
• I liked how the Esper Union felt more gray aligned than straight up black or white considering its origins.
• I enjoyed seeing Triki a bit fleshed out, but let me just say that I'm biased about this because I literally don't have him yet so I don't know too much about him aside from the basics. A little disappointed to not have seen the whole crew. I was also hoping to see Zora and Ren Shi too. 😭😭 I will say, I can appreciate Yamato just coming around to be a menace and have fun, lol
• The silly and cute things like the Draw and Guess game, Tevor’s photo with Hilda??? (When and how even was this/could this happen, lol), commander Xuan Pin post-Immortal Fire and her relationship with Mateo, Alexa and Abigail having their moments together, and Alexa being a Wattpad writer amateur romance novelist on the side, lol.
• Lots of lovely and memorable artwork especially! Sachiko was obviously the devs’ favorite since they drew her so adorably, lol Assassin’s Creed reference?
Negatives.
• Y’all… This felt like an alternate universe rather than an addition to literally everything we’ve ever been introduced to in canon, so I’m just going to treat it as such. I could've avoided this and wouldn’t missed out on anything.
• Also, as interesting as it is, Raven being clairvoyant came out of nowhere, lol There’s no mention, reference, or anything anywhere suggesting this in Dislyte canon, besides the fact that Odin (Norse Mythology) has that ability. I do miss her bike and wolf though, lol The [Player] character gave more Mary Sue isekai’d into the game vibes rather than someone literally not from this world who’s experiencing Grandis and Miracles for the first time. If Markiplier can be canon in the universe but not in a weird way, then they could’ve done something along those lines for him too. Why exactly did Tang Na turn into a “Miramon”? Usually, overdrawing on your powers (could) just kill(s) you like in Gaius’ or Leora’s event. I guess it changed for then humanity/divinity balance. Where’s Discboom? She could’ve been a good lock instead. 😔😔
• What was going on with the writing and pacing? There were lots of typos, weird wording, and kind of a strange flow from chapter to chapter. Maybe localization editing was rushed? Like, I could appreciate trying a new style, but it also felt off-putting a lot of times and not as cohesive or seamless as it could’ve been. The Shackled Collection, the OG story mode, was much better in this regard. And then, there’s…
The ending…
• Honestly, it’s a bit hard to play devil’s advocate with that ending because from the standpoint of a first-time new player, who hasn’t been through Gaius’, Norah’s, or Embla’s event, the OG main story/Shackled Collection, or any other big lore heavy events, it might feel like “whoa, plot twist! That’s interesting!” But it’s still a little lackluster.
As a long time player whose way too DEEP and invested in Dislyte lore, characters, and world building, I was very disappointed.
I mean, he didn’t even have a hinted-at “I want” moment or off-putting conversation with the [Player] to help build it up. All the Anesidora moments literally could’ve been her talking to Embla or Hyde for all I know. I think that I needed better breadcrumbs not because I didn’t see the twist coming, but because it didn't really pay off. As if they chose him to be the villain for the sake of shock value instead of any substance. Why does he want the power? Gaius. Union Hub Director and Researcher Gaius? He was just like, “Good job, Mayor Abigail. Pot, kettle. Yes, I’m bad. AND I want a new world order. 😈😈 What'd you wish for, Sachiko!???” And was anti-climatically blasted away.
The Shadow Decree is more than just “bwahaha evil villainy because evil” kind of people and we’ve seen that several times now so there was a lot to work with. Personally, I’m anti-evil Gaius, but if they wanted to make it a bit more believable, here’s three different scenarios off the top of my head that fits Gaius’ personality and the whole fate theme going on.
1. Desperate Gaius “It’s been more than a decade of fighting and failure and bloodshed. I’m tired of seeing Raven hurt because of her [powers™] and witnessing both the Esper Union and SD fail at achieving what for mere humans and Espers is impossible. But then, I remembered Hannah’s private research from long ago all this time about [insert gate of promotion info to explain how that even cropped up]. And it was all true. Yamato finding [Player], Raven’s vision, and Abigail’s intel confirmed that even further. Hyde, not believing in [insert gate and wish stuff], had tried to counter it with his artificial esper project, but it devolved into something entirely different [insert Sieg]. But I knew if I wanted to prove it, I needed to take measures beyond just the Union’s resources. So, I reached out to Yamato and Hyde and the rest was history. Hannah told me that I could use my powers for good. With the full power of the Starlight’s Miracle Nexus, I can save this world from the havoc and turmoil the Miracles created — by making a new one.”
Or like, 2. Slightly Ominous Positivity™ Derails into Deluded Gaius, “Don’t worry, Raven and [Player]. Just as I trust you, trust me. Even if that was her final premonition, I trust that all will play out according to fate. If fate brought us [Esper Seven] together, if it brought Hannah into my life, then I know that it will lead me to where I need to be to help everyone that I can.” Slowly turns into obsessive, corrupted selfishness as he stresses over of Raven’s prophecy, learning about the Gate of Promotion does through Yamato and the Shadow Decree, corrupted with thoughts of its unlimited potential and what it can do for him; “Can you believe it? Fate brought us to the Starlight Miracle’s Nexus that can grant me the power to do anything. Raven was wrong. This is true destiny [taking all the divine power for himself]. Hannah, give me the strength to best this fate like you did for me to save everyone. I will succeed no matter who’s against me!”
Heck, even a 3. Turned His Back on the Light to Save His Friends Gaius “They’re my friends. Us Seven have been through more than you [Player] can ever imagine. So, when Hyde and Embla came to us [Raven and Gaius] with a truce and told me that we could use this power for actual good for the world... I had to make a decision. One that could change the fate of everything Raven knew, regardless of what she saw, but be our only chance at saving everything. I know Raven would never forgive me after what I did… especially to her… but as the Esper Union Hub Director, I will do anything and sacrifice everything I have to save as many people as I can, even if it means colluding and sinking to the darkest places. Even breaking bread with the dark forces I once knew as my comrades. I promised Hannah that I would help others. You need to understand that the ends will always justify the means.”
Or something like that since we know he can be incredibly selfless/borderline sacrificial when it comes to saving people close to him and up keeping this position. Also, is Leora’s backstory still the same bc I feel like she would’ve already tried to tell everyone about Gaius being a shadow councilor when she defected since she was mentored by Embla, a shadow councilor. They hold annual end of year All-Hands, for crying out loud, lmfaooo Ain’t no way she didn’t know.
I don’t know, y’all. I’m just rambling at this point.
I really needed the seasoning Gaius was missing in his life if they’re going to make him bad. He wasn’t a very compelling bad guy. 🤷🏾♀️🤷🏾♀️
Furthermore, it felt like they potentially retrofitted the general Dislyte lore/world building for a lot of stuff?
For me, one of the biggest things was everything around the Gate of Promotion in the Nexus. “The Miracle Nexus, the source of all Miracles,” Mkay, but how did they learn about the Gates? How did Narmer and Cang Ji, dudes who LOVE researching and exploring Miracles, not find it or learn about it years before? It’s been about 10+ years since the whole Miracle-Miramon situation began when the Esper Seven explored Miracle Prime and you’re telling me that supposedly somehow only now Yamato, Gaius, Raven, Abigail and the SD know about the Gates? And if Raven’s premonition gave that info, that still doesn’t explain why everyone else knew about it before then like Xuan Pin, Abigail, and Yamato. And about the lock too. Who gave everyone this knowledge? Like, Did the [Player] character come with a manual that Yamato’s been making leaks of or something, lol? He’s supposed to be a whole ‘Miracle destroyer’ and no one else is interested in that?
All in all, all I can say is that it was a choice and I had fun if I just think of it as an OVA or Isekai AU or something.
Bonus pics bc Hall’s censored for some reason lol AND my bby girl, Jiang Man, is looking cute here.
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As an autistic individual myself, I am interested in the intersection of neurodiversity and various identities.
You've mentioned that you identify as a Norse Pagan. I'm curious about how your spiritual beliefs intersect with your neurodivergent experience. Do you find that your autistic identity informs or impacts your spiritual practice in any way?
(Tw for discussions of trauma, religion, etc.)
Sorry for the late-ish response! I've been working on this post a little everyday to make sure I write it how I want it.
I dont think that my autism has impacted my religion or spirtual experiences/beliefs, but my brain as a whole does. (Update: It actually did influence it quite a bit. I'm realizing this after writing this post. So, uh, thank you for helping me realize something that I find quite interesting!)
When I was a kid, I was raised in christianity. I was very religious. I prayed everyday, I had a cross in my room, etc.
But heres the thing: I have OCD. A few different types, but out of those, one of them is religious OCD.
Most of my praying ages late 8-12 was done purely out of fear. At that point I wasnt even really a Christian, I was just really afraid, which really impacted how I viewed religion. I HATED conversation about it because it felt scary and icky to me.
I didn't understand why people would ever want to talk about it. It felt like a very private topic for me, so I figured people who go out of their way to talk about it must be trying to get extra "good points" with god (maybe that bit was caused by autism, actually.).
During that time, I would go through little phases of a month or so at a time in which I would try to "swing the opposite direction". This was around age 10-11. I was developing an intense anger toward the church, and I just wanted to be the opposite of they were, whatever that meant. Because I didn't want to think about religion (due to anxiety around it), I really didn't know what many religious labels actually meant because researching them made me very uncomfortable, so I briefly identified as a satanist (this would be on and off during ages 10-11.) despite really not knowing what that meant. I think I just wanted a way to separate myself from the church as much as possible.
A few months after I turned 12, I felt a really strong urge to research paganism out of nowhere (I didnt even know what "pagan" meant, I just suddenly felt the need to know things about it. It was very random.). It started sort of as a special interest (Maybe autism did influence me more than I thought! Interesting.), and so I would look into a lot of different branches of paganism, focusing most of my research around hellenistic paganism.
A few weeks after this, I had a very interesting experience which I now believe to have been a sign from Freyja (I dont want to go into specifics. It was personal and I want to keep that special to me. I might later, but for now it's just mine. Just know it was a very beautiful thing from her.). DIRECTLY following this event (Maybe an hour or two later), I felt another urge to research things, but this time to be looking into the Norse Gods/Goddesses (which I'd never even heard of at that point.).
At that point I ended up converting to paganism. It was an extremely sudden decision, but it made sense to me.
No matter what religion I had been apart of before, I always felt anxiety and guilt, causing me to try and fix things by becoming excessively religious again in a Christian way. But from the moment I became pagan, I just never had that ever again. It's been the only religion I've ever felt fully safe in.
It's obviously been quite a while since then, and I'm obviously still a Norse Pagan.
Whilst I now love all the gods and goddesses, Freyja will always be especially special to me.
At this point I have worked with: Freyja, Loki, Odin, Beyla, and Njord.
Now, I also think its important to mention another part of my brain that impacts my religious experience: I am in a system.
Nearly all of us identify as Norse Pagans, but we have a few Agnostics as well, a few Eclectic Pagans, an Atheistic Satanist, and a Theistic Satanist.
The primary religious identity within our system is Norse Paganism, with the majority of individuals identifying as followers of this belief system. Due to this, we say we are a Norse Pagan! We are also okay with just being called "Pagan" on it's own, though.
#tw religious trauma#tw religion#tw religious guilt#tw religious mention#religion tw#obsessive compulsive disorder#ocd#actually ocd#religious ocd#norse pagan#eclectic pagan#paganism#theistic satanism
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Ok serious question, have your deities ever said anything that made you go 'bitch, I did NOT need to be called out by that. The fact that you had to say it irrelevant, how you know this shit?!'
That is my first encounter with Pluto in a nutshell. Had just done my english oracy exam and was in a state of constant anxiety of 'what do I do now?'. Pluto called my ass out hard first time he spoke to me. literally, first advice from him, 'rest, relax, you don't need to be productive all the time and the things you are worrying about can't be changed'. Like, damn.
You had a deity do that before?
Oh, an then first meeting with Loki consisted of him using my mother's words in the exact opposite way she meant them. Same words, opposite meaning. Mind blown, not gonna lie-
So, the only dieties I have really interacted with have been Rhiannon, Manawydan, Hekate, and POSSIBLY Poseidon and Demeter but only when I was little.
Now, Rhiannon has been around for years, and I honestly have no clue why, but she is very motherly. She'll tell me I'm an idiot, but will also allow me to make my own decisions, as long as I make sure to stay safe. She's very 'Fuck around and find out, but if you fuck around I'm not helping you' vibes. On the flip side, she has also helped me A LOT even before I knew of her, and makes her presence known VERY strongly.
Hekate however, is a bit more stern. She does understand that I learn through doing, however since my working with her is new, is a bit more demanding that I do things By The Book. She'll help me, but I'll dedicate a candle or research, or something to her.
Now, Manawydan is a different story. I sort of half work with him, through Rhiannon, respecting that both he and Poseidon are deities of the sea (Manawydan Fab Llyr LITERALLY means 'Manawydan, Son of The Sea', and Poseidon was gifted hold over the seas by his brother Zeus after killing The Titans), and as I have a history with the sea, I like to give back through working with him and Poseidon (I have found many items in the sea, and lived by the sea for a while, etc).
However, I believe myself and my deities have a very respectful is sassy relationship. Deities are different, and some require different things, it depends on how much you research, and how well you know them. I think the best example is that my friend works with Odin. He is both an eons-old deity with immeasurable power that I will never be able to understand, that I had to re-cleanse, ward, and black salt my house INTENSELY after he and Rhiannon got into a disagreement, however, he is ALSO a sassy bitch that likes Sour Cream Pringles.
#deity#witchblr#witchcraft#baby witch#deity work#Rhiannon#Hekate#Manawydan Fab Llyr#Poseidon#Odin#Madladmorty#let me know if this helped!
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How is Jord viewed by modern Heathens? And how was she viewed by Heathens in pre-Christian Scandinavia and Iceland?
You probably did not expect my response to require a trigger warning but at the end of this post, behind a break, I’m going to talk about the intersection of domination of nature and the sexual domination of women by men in dróttkvætt poetry. All the straight-up non tw'd lore I'll keep before the break although it's a bit long. [edit] I guess tumblr doesn't do breaks anymore on the dashboard(?) so nevermind unless you're reading on my blog.
I'm actually preparing to write something about Jǫrð, after which I'll be better prepared to answer, but regardless there is a seeming contradiction when approaching Jǫrð: there’s a great deal of research to be done, and you always come up feeling like you’ve got very little. It’s like there is very little substantial lore, but it’s spread thin throughout the entire body of literature. One of the reasons for this is that the way that Jǫrð -- the goddess and person with parents and children -- is not differentiated from the actual physical dirt we stand on. The names Hlóðyn (or Hlǫðyn) and Fjǫrgyn are more likely to be used when describing her as a personality, but there are very many synonyms for earth and they can all be used for Jǫrð (fold, frón, grund, hauðr láð, land, storð, etc) and in poetic language the whole earth can be invoked with reference just to specific land formations, like mountains or hills. Interestingly, there isn’t really a clear distinction between Ymir’s flesh and Thor’s mother. Nordic poetry encourages these kinds of semantic slippages, so I don’t feel completely confident saying that it’s how everyone thought of these things, but there is really nothing to suggest that there is an “Earth goddess” separate from all the other aspects of the ground or planet.
Since I’m writing in English, when I say “she” it seems like I’m emphasizing personhood, but Old Norse does not make this distinction; inanimate objects can be “he” or “she” and animate ones can be “it.” So though Old Norse always uses the pronoun equivalent to “she” for Jǫrð, this is a baked-in aspect of the word being grammatically feminine, and not an assertion of her personhood.
She does appear in the famous prayer in Sigrdrífumál, referred to as fold, a synonym for earth:
Heilir æsir,
heilar ásynjur,
heil sjá in fjǫlnýta fold.
'Hail the Æsir,
hail the Ásynjur,
hail the bountiful earth.'
She isn’t mentioned very frequently in mythology “proper” except in relation to Thor. In Hárbarðljóð the ferryman (Odin) tells Thor his mother is dead to which Thor remarks that many people would find it quite remarkable if that were true (some translations of hverjum þykkir mest give the impression that Thor’s saying people would think it were good if his mother were dead, but I’m not reading it that way... I’m open to being told I’m translating incorrectly though)
Her father is Ánarr or Ónarr. Snorri says she’s a daughter of Odin, but as John McKinnell pointed out, this is probably a mistake. In some manuscripts the name Ánarr is written “annarr,” which means ‘second’; since þriði “third” is a name of Odin, it was probably assumed that “second” also was. Ánarr/Ónarr is a dwarf name, so Jǫrð is perhaps the daughter of a dwarf. How she is both someone’s daughter and the dismembered flesh of Ymir is not something I can answer. Her brother is Dellingr, father of Dagr (Day), and she has a half-brother, Auðr. Her mother is Nátt (Night) although there is some confusion in some manuscripts about this, and it isn’t backed up by skaldic poetry (though it isn’t denied either)
There was a goddess recognized in Roman-occupied Germania in the first few centuries, AD, called Hludana in Latinized Germanic. This name may be related to Jǫrð’s byname Hlóðyn. There are other theories about its meaning as well, so this remains speculative, but it is very possible.
Some scholars speculate that the reason Jǫrð isn’t emphasized more as a goddess is because there are other goddesses who play overlapping roles, such as perhaps Gerðr (and/or Sif?); or because Jǫrð was a goddess of very broad and general relevance and that Nordic people were more likely to recognize very localized beings instead, like perhaps Þorgerðr Hǫlgabrúðr. We might even try to speculate that Hlóðyn and Fjǫrgyn could be names of region-specific goddesses of the land, which became synonymous with the more general Jǫrð through poetic equivalences like those I mentioned earlier.
Now, there’s an important aspect that I’ve left out so far but should be discussed. Heathens don’t like to talk about it (or, generally, know about it), but we have a responsibility to be able to discuss and process it. In skaldic poetry, a king conquering territory is sometimes referred to metaphorically as that king seducing or forcing himself on a personified Jǫrð. This is discussed in Meeting the Other in Norse Myth and Legend by John McKinnell, pp. 154-5. This is depicted most clearly in Hákonardrápa, a praise poem for a heathen king of Norway who was also an actual literal mass rapist. Many feminist, decolonial, and ecological thinkers (I think most famously, but far from exclusively, Murray Bookchin and Abdullah Öcalan; see also the article by Vanessa Watts which is also included in the link I'll put at the end) have proposed that in the western world, men’s domination of land and non-human nature is conceptually linked to men’s domination of women; in Norse history and poetry this is made explicit. Jǫrð, who is both a woman and land, is overspecified as a target of violence in the thought-world of late Norse court poetry, and unfortunately that is the context from which we get the most evidence for Old Norse religion. I expect that if we had lore from other contexts, it would be quite different. I also believe that this relationship to the land is part of why we don't see more overt veneration of Jǫrð in the sources.
For what it’s worth, I don’t believe this was inevitable, and it definitely isn’t a fixed or essential part of Nordic paganism, but we should confront it rather than dismiss it, especially while modern heathens continue to dupe themselves into believing the problem with medieval Scandinavian rulers was that they were Christian, not that they were rulers. I need to research this more before I can comment on it confidently, but as far as I know, it’s believed that Scandinavian people held land in common in the distant past, and legally-enforced private ownership of land came later. It was probably unthinkable within Scandinavia itself, but during the Age of Migrations, war leaders would reward their followers by doling out conquered territory, giving the best tracts of land to the highest-ranking soldiers. This was probably the inception of private land ownership for Germanic language-speaking people; óðal was originally land taken from defeated enemies; óðal is violence. How it traveled back north to Scandinavia, I’m not exactly sure, but once it was conceivable elsewhere it was possible to recreate back up north.
The only reasonable conclusion for modern heathens is that developing a relationship with Jǫrð means accounting for the historical catastrophe of dividing the earth into privately-owned parcels and taking up the responsibility of repairing those relations with her, and the human relations that are contingent on that domination of the earth, not just by saying “Hail Jǫrð” at sumbl and repeating affirmations that we are grateful to her, but by addressing the fact that our entire modern capitalist system is built on her denigration and dispossession, that the entire western concept of the “human” is defined by domination of the planet (hence, places where Indigenous people were considered by European settlers not to be maximizing the productive output of the earth through agriculture was considered “empty” and up for grabs by settlers). Being recon means that when the product of reconstruction is historical failure, I have to take up the responsibility that my ancestors aren't around to shoulder.
The modern heathen who, to my knowledge, has done the most visible work toward rebuilding a relationship with Jǫrð and recognizing the responsibility that that entails is @falkabarn who hosts a ritual for Jǫrð every year and is currently working on compiling and editing a devotional (which, based on the timing of this ask, I suspect might have motivated it). I’m also aware that in Denmark, there has been some intersection of Nordic animism and direct action like tree sits, though I don’t know details about how they articulate their position. There is likely more that I don’t know about.
(from the Tornsangerland Bli'r tree sit).
For a very small selection of alternative ways of relating to the land, see the "Week 1" section of the following reading list: https://yellowheadinstitute.org/an-indigenous-abolitionist-study-guide/
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Chapter 12 is up!
Note:
Thank you for the support as I write this fic! <3
Future updates may a bit slow as I try to FINALLY finish the game on my own. I am also in grad school, so I might be too busy for both the game and writing sometimes.
I hope you enjoy! This chapter felt maybe a little too self-indulgent...
End Note: The song referenced is The Evening Star by the band Tyr from the Faeroe Islands. I didn't want the reference to it to be TOO vague for the sake of… not putting song lyrics briefly in a fic. Originally, Rowan was supposed to accidentally make Odin a god and turn into a kind of Norse witch-like character, but that's SUPER indulgent/silly and I would end up spending way too much time researching Norse mythology and culture again.
Tags for whole Story: Astarion x Tav (Rowan, not reader, human, agender AFAB but lets the team refer to them as female), Canon x OC, Isekai, Angst, All the Vampirism Warnings (Blood, Biting, etc.), Sexually suggestive situations, Allusions/Mentions of Suicide, Memory Loss, Gender Dysphoria, Slow Burn
Chapter Text for those not on Ao3:
Rowan had big plans for the day. The group was going to defeat Ketheric, she practically considered this a fact. She felt like something out of legend, a witch capable of seeing the future. If only it came with cooler clothes…
It wasn't a pointed snub, but certainly a welcome excuse, that she ignored Astarion in favor of getting together everything she would need to create her biggest victory feast yet. There was a lot to do and little time to do it, there was no place for distractions of that magnitude.
“I would like to use the inn for a banquet, if you don't mind,” Rowan told Jaheira politely after getting the woman’s attention. The High Harper gave her a critical look as she added, “And I would have your people ready to assault Moonrise Towers, probably within, I dunno, an hour?”
“And how do you know this? Your friends said nothing when they passed through yesterday.”
“Let’s just say that I have my ways.” Jaheira looked over Rowan’s shoulder to where Arabella was introducing Withers to Mattis. Between the… man’s presence and Rowan's confidence, she was somehow convinced.
“Do with the inn as you wish. Harpers!”
The first thing Rowan did was gather the tieflings, as they wouldn’t be joining the fray.
“I sincerely request your help in making this a place for a proper banquet,” she told them from her perch atop a crate to make herself taller. “I would like anyone who can cook to help me with the food, I have some ideas that I would like to discuss with Rolan, anyone good with music could practice, and everyone else can clean this place up. Well, as well as it could be cleaned. And I can pay at least something for your time.”
Alfira and Bex were the most enthusiastic of those gathered, which she expected. Even the children were a little excited for a break in the monotony. And coin.
Much like how Rowan convinced Gale to enchant some trunks to stay chilled, she asked Rolan to enchant certain tables to be warm and another to stay cool. That way, all of the food didn’t need to be done at once. Bex helped with the cooking and turned into a shy mess when Rowan complimented her cookies.
Alfira would catch the human singing as she cooked and pressed her to keep going.
“No one wants to hear me sing,” Rowan told her with a laugh, constantly wiping sweat from her face and under her chest. Every now and then she had to walk out to the fountain and dump a bucket of water over her head.
“But they’re such beautiful songs,” Alfira would insist before attempting to write an accompaniment on her lute.
Tables and floors were cleaned, dishes made spotless. The children had fun decorating the place with things Rowan had been saving for such an occasion.
Rowan regarded the inn with pride. It had been practically transformed.
“If you all promise to pace yourselves, I think it would be fine if we started,” she told them after checking the time.
“Won’t that be bad luck?” Bex asked with an anxious look on her face. Rowan smiled at her so warmly that the look melted away.
“I have complete confidence that everything will turn out just fine,” Rowan reassured her and the others gathered around. “I give them somewhere between one and two hours before they start coming back.”
“They better hope it’s one, before all the drinks are gone!” Lakrissa cried with a goblet of wine already raised.
The inn shuddered with the sound of a resounding cheer.
“I’m sorry to be rude,” Barcus started, coming up to her after everyone split off into small groups, “but Wulbren wants to leave for Baldur’s Gate, so I should be going.”
“Are you sure? You’re more than welcome to stay with us.” Rowan was more than a little put-out, but she put on a brave face.
“I should stick with Wulbren and… well, he’s not going to stick around for this.” He was startled as Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.
“Be safe, Barcus. Everything will work out, in the end.” Flustered, it was all he could do to say goodbye.
“Ahh, our diligent host once again!” Rolan called happily as Rowan made rounds of the inn to check on everyone. He offered her a cup. “Please, join me for a moment.”
Rowan thought about taking the cup, but held up her hand to refuse. Apologetically she said, “Sorry, can’t have wine. Wine doesn’t like me, I’m afraid.”
“That’s too bad,” he muttered, avoiding looking at her directly.
“I’ll find something I can drink,” she reassured him and, with a wink, added, “and then I’ll be foolish enough to have a dance.”
Rolan stammered, but when Cal and Lia snickered nearby, he turned on them instead. Oh, to have only one life and only so much time, Rowan thought as she walked away.
Probably more than one person who could remember Rowan’s words considered the possibility that she was more than just a simple human who liked to throw big parties for strangers and spoke a little strangely. No more than two hours after she began the festivities, the rune circle blazed as the victorious came home.
“Your friend has exceeded my expectations,” Jaheira remarked, waving a hand at the decorations around the inn. It was lit up with twinkling lights and garlands made of paper. Music could be heard under the sound of laughter.
“I don’t know that I have the energy for a party,” Wyll remarked with disappointment, “but I’m concerned how Rowan would take it if we didn’t enjoy her hard work.”
“Perhaps I can help with that,” Isobel said, preparing healing spells. Pain bled away and was replaced with renewed vigor.
“Now, if only there was a spell to replace a good bath,” Astarion said sourly. Gale started a motion, but Astarion smacked his hands. “No conjuring a puddle of water over our heads. Again.”
“Looks like Rowan brought our clothes from camp!” Karlach called out brightly, pointing to a few crates filled with their usual lounging clothes along with some buckets of fresh water, towels, and soap. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m willing to do a quick scrub if it means I can go tear into some grub.”
Not out of any particular charity, Astarion was one of the last of the group to have a quick wash-off and throw on fresh clothes. The festivities, everyone’s happiness, left a sour taste in his mouth.
Until he opened the box left for him. Inside was a wine bottle, its label painted over. Drawn carefully on it was a pattern in the shape of a star and underneath in a practiced hand was “Half-Dwarf Vineyard” and “Barrel-aged over 35 years.” The bottle was warm to the touch.
Underneath it was his shirt, the one Karlach burned holes into when man-handling him. He'd practically given up on it, at least until he summoned the energy to deal with it. The scorched edges had been removed and patched. The patches were hidden by white-on-white embroidery. To the wandering eye it was just leaves and such, but he noticed there was a sun, a moon, and stars.
Astarion huffed and put the shirt on carefully over his curls and pointed ears. It smelled nice from Rowan washing it. Uncorking the wine bottle released an intoxicating cloud of a familiar bloody perfume. He placed the bottle to his lips and took a hesitant swallow. Rowan’s blood, as warm as if it'd come straight from her neck.
When Astarion finally entered the inn, he did so quietly and subtly, hugging what shadows could be found. He watched as his traveling companions, the Harpers, and the tiefling refugees made merry. With the Harpers returned, there was a little more music than when they arrived. That and the drinks inspired most to dance.
Whether he noticed or not, his eyes followed Rowan, at least when he could see her in the crowd. She danced with anyone unaccompanied, a huge grin on her flushed face. Her step was clumsy, not even Wyll’s occasional lesson could keep her from making a mess of things. If Astarion had a heartbeat, it would've sped up every time she joined hands with someone new.
It was just good ole tavern dancing. She was being a good host, making sure everyone who wanted got a chance to dance. But the way Halsin laughed as she did a little circle around his unbudging mass, Gale had that charming easy smile, and Karlach lifted her by the ribs into the air with an unabashed cheer…
It didn't escape his attention that the tiefling wizard approached her, with a blush and shy smile, egged on by his brother and sister. Rowan of course obliged. They were awkward, stepping on each other's toes, but they laughed it off. Astarion nearly bit through his lip when Rolan tried to show off and dip his partner, but lost his grip and Rowan crashed to the ground. The tiefling cried out as if he’d dropped her into a pit of orthons, but Rowan just rolled on the floor, cackling until she couldn't breathe. Others laughed as well while Rolan made a show of checking her for any injury and being concerned that her face was turning colors as she failed to stop laughing. Eventually she stopped, got herself together, said something Astarion couldn't hear, and gave Rolan a chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Quite the party, huh, Astarion?” Shadowheart asked with a knowing smirk. Astarion nearly bludgeoned her with his wine bottle. She held out her goblet. “Mind sharing?”
“I don't think you’d like this vintage,” he snidely refused, glaring at her for sneaking up on him. “It's a little too… meaty.”
Shadowheart took the bottle from him anyway and inspected it. “Interesting concept. Rowan had Rolan enchant the tables to hold certain temperatures for the food and drink. I suppose she got him to enchant this too. Imagine what she could do as a wizard.”
“We already have an infestation of wizards.” Astarion snatched the bottle back even though she was offering it.
“I take it you haven't forgiven her yet.”
“I haven't had enough time today to even have a thought,” he answered with an angry sneer. More flippantly he went on, “Besides, why should I forgive her? What she did was worth a lot more than a shirt and some blood.”
Shadowheart sighed and took a sip of her wine. “I never know if you're the perfect actor or an imbecile. Rowan seems to not mind either way, so that doesn't answer anything.”
Astarion made a noise in the back of his throat as he walked away and made his way up the stairs. Along the railing he found Lae’zel sitting at a place for two, absolutely devouring what looked like an entire pig’s worth of meat. Did they really manage to pick up that much food on their travels? Rowan really was a genius to have Gale enchant trunks to keep food cold.
“Not one for dancing?” he asked as he sat down across from her.
“A waste of time.”
“Judging by Wyll’s fancy footwork, I would say it provides some advantages on the battlefield.”
“Hnn. A good observation. I will reconsider,” Lae’zel said thoughtfully before ripping off a strip of meat with just her teeth.
Some unknown amount of time passed without anyone bothering them. Eventually, Shadowheart came and insisted that Lae’zel join her downstairs, leaving Astarion alone.
It had to be well into the night before people started to slow down. At several points Astarion considered sneaking off back to camp on his own to get some peace, but something kept him around. He was committing to an exit once more when Alfira started up a tune that he didn’t recognize. That would’ve been even more motivation to become scarce, except he could distinguish the hum guiding her. The familiar voice rose in song.
Astarion made his way around the inn on silent feet. Every now and then, he could make out the words, sung with a peaceful sadness.
Days are long and nights are cold
In the heavens on high, is a light so lonely, the evening star that shines so far
I keep your memory in my mind, one day I’ll repay in kind
Oh would that I was home again and home was here
For so long as I’ve gone and so far I’ve wandered, the evening star to me you are
As Rowan started up another song with drunken enthusiasm, Astarion decided that he was finally done with the party. A certain druid apparently couldn’t let him go without saying goodbye.
“Leaving so soon? Rowan will think you didn’t have fun,” Halsin remarked, very clearly drunk. Apparently tonight was a rare night. Astarion rolled his eyes.
“She can think whatever she likes,” he responded with thick sass, waving his special wine bottle around. Looking the man up and down, he added in a sultry voice, “Of course, if you would like to have some fun, I have a few ideas.”
Halsin looked like he was about to refuse, but a grin broke on his face. “What did you have in mind?”
A lot of things, really. That he wanted to sink his teeth into that beautiful neck and drink more than Rowan could ever spare. He wanted to make the man beg for more. He wanted to be reduced to a whimpering puddle, unable to remember who he was. For the lingering touch of so many unwanted lovers to be washed away. To stop wondering if that song was for someone that wasn’t him.
When they were done, Astarion had trouble walking straight. It was something he’d thought about often, something he was convinced that he wanted, so why did it feel so… strange? Like shame, but that didn’t make sense. It was done for himself, he wanted it, he enjoyed it, and Halsin was well and satisfied too.
Apparently, the others had returned to camp without them, leaving behind a few tieflings and Harpers to close out the festivities. By the time they got back to camp, tent flaps were closed and only a few candles still burned. It was fortuitous; suffering the slew of jokes the group would have fired off could only make him feel worse.
Astarion’s ‘sleep’ was restless. More nightmarish memories of his time under Cazador’s control. Didn’t that handsome stranger promise that he’d be safe? No, that made no sense. This was the Szarr Palace. He’d returned without prey for his master and Cazador made sure Astarion understood just how much it hurt to fail.
“Don’t you love me, my darling boy? Don’t you want to make me happy? Why must you make me punish you?”
His whole body hurt. It felt like his brain would melt.
Without realizing it, Astarion was back in his tent, awake and sitting upright. The first of his senses to return was smell. There was the distinct metallic tang of blood, familiar and comforting. The second sense was hearing. Someone was outside his tent, but moving away from it.
He was alone, unharmed, but he could feel the fading effects of panic. Under his fingernails was blood, fresh, hers.
No one was outside his tent, but a few paces away was a puddle of… something, not blood, that glistened in the moonlight. A trail of footprints, barely impressed upon the ground, led to the edge of camp where they bathed and washed their clothes.
On silent feet, one of his most beloved vampiric gifts, he followed the track. He heard her before he saw her, softly cursing and sniffling. There she was, leaning over the wash tub, scrubbing something. Her naked form practically glowed in comparison to the darkness that surrounded them. Astarion couldn’t help himself, he stared a moment, taking in the parts of her he’d never seen.
He covered his eyes, turned away, and purposefully rustled a nearby bush with his foot. Rowan gasped in surprise.
“Please go,” she begged through shuddering tears.
“I don’t understand what this is about,” Astarion said, trying to mimic her gentle and reassuring tone, trying not to let on how scared he felt. To wake up in such a state, her blood on his hands, the signs of her hurried escape, finding her here, weeping, trying to scrub some stain away in secret. “Please tell me, Rowan.”
“I’m not mad at you, just please, please, I’m fucking humiliated.”
Shame once again washed over him. Astarion wanted to crawl back into his grave. Instead, he pulled off his shirt and, careful to not look at her as he walked over, offered it to her. Without comment, she took it. He started to walk away, but turned around. She looked so much smaller, drowning in the fabric of his shirt.
He didn’t know how much time passed before her quiet footsteps sounded outside his tent. They didn’t approach at first, but he could hear a soft scraping noise a few steps away.
“May I come in?” Rowan whispered close to the tent flap. Despite the hollow feeling in his chest, Astarion managed to answer loudly enough for her to hear.
She let herself in and placed his shirt, neatly folded, near where he was lying. There were four lines of scabs running across her face, two passing over one eye.
“I can’t have Karlach finding me in that, she’ll paint my ass red,” Rowan explained with a taste of humor. Tentatively, Astarion sat up, leaning on one hand. The necklace he gave her managed to glitter just enough to catch his attention. “Are you alright?”
“Am I all right?” he retorted in disbelief. In a hushed but agitated voice that betrayed his desire to scream, he growled, “I attacked you, and can’t even remember!”
“That’s not… really what happened,” she said hesitantly. Taking a deep breath, she went on, “I woke up because I needed to, well, piss out about a quart of whatever the hell Umi found in the bar that wasn’t wine, yeah? But there was a noise coming from your tent, so I came to check on you. You were thrashing around and kind of, well… whimpering, so I tried to wake you. And it worked, but it was like you weren’t there, just sort of… looking through me. You got real angry, said something in what I assume is Elvish, and swiped at me. I tried to avoid it, which sent me rolling out of the tent. That activated the spins from the aforementioned liquor, and- Well. I suffered some embarrassing but predictable side effects. So that is why I was cleaning up my clothes and as for the crying- Please don’t make me explain in any more detail, I might actually self-immolate from humiliation if I do.”
“I…” Astarion started before her story actually sank in. His body started to feel unnaturally light as relief pushed away his fears. Solemnly, he finished, “I thought I did something that I could never forgive myself for.”
“I meant it, I’m not mad at you. It was just too much drinking and a misunderstanding. Not the worst outcome of such a combination.” Sincerely, Rowan placed the tips of her fingers on top of the hand that was bracing him. “I want to tell you something very important and I need to know that you’re alright before I say it.”
His undead guts turned into knots. This was it, the nail in their friendship’s proverbial coffin. There were too many pretty, less complicated, and kind people for her to choose from and thus no reason to keep him around. Astarion only nodded, but the press of her fingers demanded he look her in the eyes. It hurt, but he did it. She showed him grace by lowering her eyes after seeing whatever it was she needed to see in his round, wet eyes. His fangs worried at the inside of his lip.
“I know that I loved someone- deeply, completely, without doubt.” She shook her head. “That’s not- This is hard.”
Rowan covered his hand more fully with her own. “I love you guys. You make me happy. You make me feel wanted and safe. Only one person ever made me feel that way. I love you, and I’ll always love you. I’d love you if you tried to choke me to death, or sold me for a laugh, but I don’t believe that you would. I’d love you if you chose to ascend or just threw Cazador into a pit of spikes.
“I will always love you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t get mad, or disagree, or refuse to speak to you again. You’ll always be in my heart, a piece of me, but I won’t set fire to myself just to avoid the pain of letting any of you go. I love you, and that means I don’t want you to set yourself on fire just to keep me around.”
Her voice was trembling by the end and when Astarion could muster the courage to look her in the eye once more, he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. Despite them, she smiled. He was supposed to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I should go back to bed. If anyone finds me in here, Gale will turn me into a sheep,” Rowan said finally, chuckling to herself. She patted his cold hand and stood. “Sleep better this time, Star.”
The tent felt so cold in her absence. Did the cold always bother him so much?
Raising his shirt to his face, he took a deep breath in. Her smell mixed with the perfumes he used to cover up the undead smell filled his lungs. Astarion never wanted to touch it again, so that it might keep that scent forever, but he knew that was foolish.
Was this what it was like to be loved?
#Astarion#Astarion Ancunin#Astarion x oc#astarion x tav#Rowan OC#fanfiction#bg3 fanfiction#original character#titus writes#a non hero's guide#bg3 tav#bg3 astarion#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate oc#baldur's gate tav#baldur's gate astarion#agender oc#isekai#slow burn#fanfic#canon x oc
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Carriages and ballrooms || Loki x Mortal! Fem! Reader
Word count: 2.3k
Pairing: Loki x Mortal! Fem! Reader
Summary: Coming back to Midgard always hurt, but things start looking up when Loki meets a familiar face.
Warnings: loss and a little bit of angst
Previous part || Series masterlist
London in the 19th century was a dirty city, Loki concluded. It was greasy and wet and everything he hated, because it reminded him of her.
Bits and pieces of Y/N were littered everywhere, even after centuries from the day they met. It tore at his heart and mind. He saw her at every corner and on every street. The tavern they once danced in was no longer standing. But he still saw it there. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the rich flavour of food and hear the highest notes of a flute.
"You were cursed to fall in love with a mortal, Loki. Now you must suffer." said Odin to him on the night she died.
Odin didn't understand. And Loki didn't want to be understood. Not by him anyway. The only person who truly understood him was no longer alive. She hadn't been for centuries.
Loki clutched his hands into fists and crossed the paved street through the carriages and the chaos, passing by a paper boy.
"The Morning Chronicle, 8 pounds!" his yelling reached Loki's ears.
He abruptly stopped walking and turned to the boy, snatching the newspaper from his dirty hands.
"Jack the Ripper strikes again!" the headline said.
"You read it, you buy it, sir!" exclaimed the boy besides him.
Loki striked him with a cold stare. "No need."
He pushed the newspaper into the kid's chest and turned his back to him, crossing the street once again. His black, polished shoes echoed on the wet and slippery cobblestone. Ahead of him, The British Museum touched the skies in all its glory.
It was a history museum, with old artifacts and worn out proof of living history. It was the best place to research something (besides the library, of course).
And it was also the worst. The crowded space made it harder to breath. Women with sickeningly sweet perfumes and feathered hats kept bumping into him, smiling, while men threw him dirty looks. It was annoying, really. These mortals.
But no matter. He just kept going down the museum's hallway like he knew it as the back of his hand. Because he did. He really did. Every step echoed in familiar notes, every corner took curves imprinted in his mind. It was no labyrinth. Just a longer route.
He stopped in front of it. The green stood out the most to him. That is, if he wasn't paying attention to the figures.
It was a tapestry. Of him and her. Holding hands and dancing. Just like they did back then in the tavern.
Y/N never told him about this tapestry, but the first time he found it in the museum, there was no doubt in Loki's mind that it was made by her calloused hands.
And so he kept coming back to it. A testimony to what they once had.
"That is one marvelous piece of work."
Loki froze. He could recognize that voice anywhere. Because he heard it. He always heard it. In his dreams and in his nightmares. Everytime he smiled and enerytime he cried. It was just there, with him 24/7, haunting him.
He had never found nightmares sweeter than those times.
He turned to look at his left and he felt his breath leave him. She was there, standing next to him in a violet dress, with her hair pinned up pinned and just looking at the tapestry.
"Don't you think?" she met his eyes, smiling lightly. For a moment, Loki thought his mind played tricks on him, but then that wouldn't make any sense, would it? The trickster god getting tricked.
"Y/N?"
Her smile dropped and she took a step back. "Have we met? Do I know you, sir?"
Loki took a step forward.
"Well, yes... I... Don't you remember me, Y/N?"
She took another step back, an uncertain look etched on her face. "I'm afraid not. How do you know my name?"
Loki stopped and glanced at her left hand. No ring. A dread and empty feeling made its home in his stomach. He thickly swallowed. "Sorry, I must have made a mistake. Excuse me, miss." And he turned his back to her, rapidly making his way out of the museum, leaving behind remains of his heart.
She was rooted to the spot, staring after his retreating form. A claw tightened around her heart. Y/N turned her gaze towards the tapestry. The familiarity went over her in deep waves. Her right hand touched her left one, feeling something was missing. But she couldn't put a finger on it.
Sunny days were rare in London, that much Garwin could tell. He didn't go out often, the walls of his old home being enough. Old age caught up to him. He would soon turn seventy years old, and even though he expressed his distate to birthday banquets and balls, his adopted daughter said otherwise.
"Oh, but we would celebrate you, father! Please, let me do this one thing for you."
Y/N had a stubborn soul, and an even more stubborn mind. His complaints were in vain.
A slamming door echoed through the house, pulling him from his wandering thoughts. Garwin stood straighter in the leather chair at his desk, knowing she would barge in any second now. Going by the way her feet stepped harshly on the wooden floor, Y/N sounded upset.
Like a storm, she entered his office and plopped down across him at the desk.
"Oh, father, I had the most strange encounter!"
"Did you, now?"
She took her linen gloves off, putting them away.
"Yes! This young man pretended he knew me! Actually, he was very much convinced! He even knew my name!"
Garwin took a look at her face. She was red and droplets of sweat painted her forehead. Y/N started fanning herself with the gloves. "Did you run here?"
She halted her moves, looking her father in the eyes. "What? Of course not! I took the carriage!"
He hummed and looked at her hands. They were shaking. Garwin, then, took her hands in his own, her gloves tickling his skin. "Y/N, my darling, what exactly happened?"
She breathed in. "I just told you, father. This man knew me."
And in a broken whisper, she added:
"And I didn't know him."
Her father searched her eyes. "Do you happen to know his name?"
She shook her head. "No, it happened all so fast. But what's more weird about it is that I think he meant no harm. He was so distraught. Please, father, can you find out who he is?"
Garwin nodded his head, straightening his back. "That I can do, little one. But it would take awhile. You know how much the ton can talk."
Y/N casted her eyes downwards to her left hand. She still felt something was missing.
"You should invite him to the banquet, once you find out."
He frowned, a few white strands of hair falling into his eyes. "A stranger? Invited to my banquet?"
She swallowed and looked out the window to her right. "He's no stranger. I think I know him from somewhere. I just don't know from where."
The museum was packed like always. And the tapestry was on display like always. And he still came back. Like always.
It was almost funny. How you can be so attached to a place or a person, that you just come back. Again. And again. Hoping for more. Waiting for something to happen.
Except, this time it did. Loki had met her again, after all these years. And it stung. Seeing Y/N, who was not recognizing him, stung. It was like he cut himself in the pieces of his own heart.
Was this a sort of a punishment? If so, it worked.
"That couple kind of looks like us."
The voice. Her voice.
He turned to look at her, paralyzed and rooted to the ground. Her hair was, once again, pinned up and she looked straight at the tapestry. The one she made all those centuries ago. She looked at a mirror and she didn't recognized herself. Or him. How could that be possible?
"You're here." Loki breathed.
She took her eyes from the tapestry and the couple dancing woven on it, to him. "I just knew you would came."
The familiarity of her words shook him to the core. Déjà-vu. He frowned. It was like watching a movie with the knowledge of what would be happening next.
She sighed and took a step closer to him. "I'm really sorry for disappointing you. That was not my intention."
He opened his mouth to say something, but her next words left him speechless.
"I don't remember you, but I feel like I should."
Y/N's gaze was intense, never leaving his. She took another step. And another. "What's your name, sir?"
He straightened his back and flexed his hands. "Loki."
She simply smiled, trying his name on her tongue. "Loki... Sounds familiar."
His heart soared and his palms started sweating. He started taking a step towards her, but stopped himself.
She handed him a sealed envelope. "You're invited to my father's banquet. You should come."
He took the envelope from her gloved hands, their fingers brushing. "Thank you."
She nodded her head. "Have a good day."
And then she left, leaving him there, near the tapestry, with a hopeful gaze and a shaking heart.
The carriage ride to her house was, mostly, quiet, aside from the wheels bumping on the road and the horses' neighs.
His thoughts, on the other hand, were loud. They screamed. Everything was beyond Loki's power of understanding. And it wasn't often when this happened. Thor was usually the silly brother, not him.
The carriage stopped and he took a look outside the window, moving away the red velvet curtain. The house stood tall, illuminated, with ivy branches and leaves stretching across it. If he could pay close attention, he could hear the chattering and the violins from inside.
The carriage door opened and he went out, breathing in the night London air. Still not on his taste, but now there was sweet feeling to it.
He climbed up the stairs to the entrace, a butler smiling at him. "Your invitation, sir?"
Loki handed him the envelope, his coat and left inside, not standing there a moment longer. He ignored the butler protestes and went to the room from where the music was coming from.
The ballroom was grandiose. Of course, not as grandiose as the one from Asgard, but still pretty impressing. A chandelier was hanging up from a tall and painted ceiling, there were a few lit candles littered around the room and the floor was shining in gold sparkles. An orchestra was playing in the corner of the room, music wafting in the air and all around. Grandiose.
"You came."
Loki recognised her voice, once again. He turned towards her, bowing. She had a mischievous smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes.
"That I did, miss." He smiled too.
She put her arm around his. "Come. Let me introduce you to my father. The banquet is thrown in his honour. It's his birthday."
He stopped walking. "I didn't bring a present."
She looked him in the eyes. "That shouldn't be a problem. He isn't big on presents and balls."
With his free hand, Loki summoned a wrapped copy of Sherlock Holmes behind his back.
Y/N stopped in front of a group of laughing men. Loki recognised one of them. His hair was as white as snow and his skin as wrinkled as paper. Garwin.
"Father, this is Loki, the one I told you about. Loki, this is my father."
The old man scrutinized him from head to toe. "Do I know you, young man?"
Loki smiled in a courtesy manner. "I do not believe so, sir. I do believe, though, that there are some regards in order. Happy birthday!"
And he handed him the wrapped present. Loki could feel Y/N's eyes boring into the side of his face.
Garwin took the present from his hands, but not his eyes. "Thank you."
Violins started playing again and Y/N gasped. "Isn't this Vivaldi? Oh, how much I love Vivaldi!"
Loki took that as an invitation and outstretched his hand towards her. "It is, indeed, Vivaldi. Please, may I have this dance?"
Her eyes lit up and she smiled. "You definitely may."
And she took his hand. He lead her to the dance floor and put his other hand on her back. The feeling of his hand on her made her skin burn up. Her eyes met his. The warmth and longing she found in them made her lightheaded. Who was he? And why did she feel like she met him before?
He starting leading her in a waltz across the ballroom, his eyes never leaving hers.
"I feel like we did this before." she said.
Loki tilted his head. "Did what?"
"Dancing. Do you not feel the same? Did we do it? Do I know you from another life, Loki?"
He almost stopped in the middle of the dancefloor. "I think we did meet in another life." he merely answered.
His response must have pleased her because she smiled once again. She brought herself closer to him. "So, where did you get that present? I thought you didn't bring one."
He nodded, his eyes sparkling. "I didn't."
She frowned. "Then, where did you get it from?"
He took his hand from her own, putting it between them. Fireworks lit up from it. Then, as quickly as it happened, they vanished. His hand resumed its place around hers, spinning Y/N around.
"How did you do that?!"
The wonder in her voice brought back deeply missed memories she couldn't remember. "I'll tell you if you promise me we will meet again."
She arched an eyebrow, but smiled nonetheless. "We have a deal, then."
A/N: there it is! The second chapter of "Time after time"! So sorry it took so long! Some things got in the way.
I'd love to hear your opinion about it, so any kind of feedback is very much welcomed, be it a like, a comment or a reblog :)
If you want to be tagged in the next parts, please let me know and I will add you to the tag list!
Thank you so much for reading! Sending love xx
Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86
#loki x reader fluff#loki and reader fic#loki x reader#loki#loki x female reader#loki x fem!reader#angst#soulmates au#reincarnation au#laura writes#my writing#masterlist
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What do you think of Joyofsatan.org? They claim to follow the Sumerian God Enki-Satan, they’re pro-choice, they follow gay Pagan Gods and they’re the largest Satanist group in the world.
I've never heard of them tbh. However, any large group has both extremists and benefits. I'm sure their intentions are at their core good, at least to the extent that they are just for their own good. And I'm also sure that extreme measures are taken to achieve that promised personal good.
I am not a Satanist and do not condone this devotion to Satan. I am Christian, after all. That is my general opinion on Satanists, that I don't agree with them and normally avoid discussing this topic with them, because a clash of beliefs usually leads to futile arguments.
I did research this group a bit after reading the question. I am quite familiar with Zecharia Sitchin's book and can't really see an Enki-Satan connection. The book suggests that Enki and his tribe from Nibiru came to earth where they found some beings, engineered them into nowaday's humans, then made them into slaves, initially, to dig out gold in Africa, which would have been essential to living on Nibiru and which they lacked. They also taught them a lot of things. Even so, this tribe refers to a certain God or supreme Creator, distinct from Enki, and which doesn't appear in any way linked to Satan. Idk how that association was made, but it appears faulty to me, and stretched to fit a fantasy. Just my opinion.
What I personally believe abt the story is this: There have been many, many civilisations before the Sumerians, some of them incredibly evolved, especially technologically, and which just vanished at some point. Not impossible for them to have gone to another planet, and later on to have returned, only to find a younger human civilisation, which they decided to enslave or teach their knowledge to. Obviously, wisdom, skill and longevity (as one would naturally aquire on a planet more distant from the Sun than ours) are god-like traits. They might have been perceived as gods, even as creators. In reality, they were called Annunaki, so men from the sky. The usual link to Annunaki is the biblical Watchers, a form of angels or in any case initial agents of God - not Satan - which acted independently from the will of God - but not under Satan's command.
I cannot for the life of me find here the idea that Satan created the world or that Enki might be Satan. Summerian concepts of the gods can be found in so many other mythologies, especially the Norse, and even they had a supreme creator that had nothing to do with said allmighty gods. Odin didn't create the world. Zeus didn't create the world. And none of them were associated with a Satan figure either. I find it a little unusual.
I personally find no foundation for this belief. But again, this is just my on-the-spot analysis and opinion.
P.S.: Regarding them being pro-choice and pro-LGBTQA+. So are many other organisations. These aren't values specific for Satanists or for this particular group of Satanists, nor are they atypical for Christians. However, Nazism is in fact typical for neopaganism, unfortunately. This is why authentic pagans want to make it clear that they've got nothing to do with neopagans. Neopaganism was mainly introduced in the 40s and has, funnily enough, a lot of Christian concepts that have no reason being there. So, ironically, these neopagan Satanists have more values in common with (malignant) Christianity than I think they'd like to have.
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Raw Desire
Synopsis: Something is wrong with him. Something none of the Avengers, including Thor, understand. When Loki turns into his Jötun form unwillingly and begins to act in a very primal and aggressive way, their solution for the problem is to lock him up in a cell below the compound until it’s all over. It’s a disease, perhaps, one which only Frost Giants can develop. Only Loki is not sick. Loki is in heat--and his Jötun body will not rest until his most carnal desires have been satisfied...
Words: 9176
Warnings: Jötun!Loki, smut, fluff, symptoms of addiction
A/N: You wanted some Jötun!Loki, I wanted some Jötun!Loki... so here we go. Enjoy, everyone! 😏
Additional NSFW Warnings: breeding kink (a little bit, anyway), Loki is in heat (kind of, duh), lack of aftercare (at first...)
-
His antagonising scream tore through the entire compound. You flinched, alarmed. Loki. The heart-breaking sound of pain tugging at your nerves was followed by a loud thump—like a heavy metal door falling shut, locked for good. It had come from the cellar, where the Avengers stored weaponry and ammunition; along with provisory but secure prison cells of Wakandan technology for criminals until they could be handed over to the authorities.
When you reached the source of the rousing noise, you almost knocked straight into Thor. His muscly back resembled a thick fleshy wall that would break your bones if you collided with him with too much force and speed.
“What happened?” Out of breath, you moved around him—facing the culprit of the commotion. The eerie flickering camera right outside the cell door showed Loki knocking his fists repeatedly against the metal door. His knuckles were already bloody from the repeated impact, yet the door would not budge. Much more concerning, however, was his appearance. Loki’s skin—every inch revealed to the naked eye anyway—was blue, his otherwise enchanting blue eyes sparkling with mischief of a deep blood-red. Countless, unique and fleshy lines formed a complex pattern on his arms and the back of his hands, even his face and neck. Your lips parted, both in shock and surprise at what your eyesight had revealed to you.
“He’s losing his fucking mind.” Tony responded for Thor before the Thunderer could even open his mouth in defence. He came tramping into the room as mad as you had never experienced him, tapping away on a tablet in the process. “I told you it was bad idea to bring him back here, Point Break! What were you thinking?”
“Can anybody tell me what is going on?! Why is he… like this? Is he in pain?”
“In pain?! He almost killed Nat. If Wanda hadn’t interfered…” Tony did not finish the sentence—regardless, the threat of what consequences there would have been for the God of Mischief was clearly audible.
“This was unlike him. He had no reason to…”
“No? He pounced on her like a… like a…”
“Beast?” Bruce added matter-of-factly. His hands were in his pocket when he approached the scene and patted Thor on the back in an attempt of providing comfort.
“Maybe… maybe this isn’t his fault, Stark. I know my brother, he’s never acted like this before!” The God of Thunder roared in defence, his arms crossed.
“Yeah,” Tony retorted sarcastically. “You know your brother so well he even tried to kill us all. Three times. No. This man is evil. Look at him!”
Petrified, you risked another peek. Loki was downright animalistic, his fists still working the metal cell door. He was getting weaker, worn out—like the fire in his red eyes was slowly being extinguished to make way for weariness. There was something primal in his behaviour; something raw. You would be ignorant to deny it scared you.
“Tony,” you began, forcing your voice to cease the shaking, “What happened? Why did he attack Natasha? Was he hurt?” Your sudden concern for him was going to give you away. No, not sudden. It had always been there, hidden just beneath the surface of your heart. You had only kept it a secret because… because what?
Loki did not know you had been harbouring romantic feelings for him for a significant amount of time now. Dark, tall and mysterious, he matched not only your type but had hopelessly captured you with his melancholic and lonely nature, the grief in his stunning blue eyes. You refused to believe that Loki was evil, that he had ever truly wanted to harm his brother; and you were desperate to be his friend… and even more than that. But the God of Mischief had hidden his heart behind such a hard shell that you were worried you might never get him to open up to you.
You would by no means describe yourself as an altruistic person—but there was a both enamoured and depraved part of you which desired, longed, for him to like you back.
“Talk to me.” You stated, tilting your head when he flung his dagger at one of the battered punching bags in the training room.
“What?” He sounded almost scornful when he spun around to gift you an incredulous look.
“Talk to me, Loki. I want to know what’s going on in your mind. I thought I was… you are always so distant. You disappear in here every other night, you snap at everyone trying to speak to you. You look nervous, like something is trying to break out of you.” Like you are trying to get rid of monstrous amounts of bottled up energy, you added silently. “You seem so restless. What’s wrong?”
“What concern is that of yours?” He spat.
“See! That is exactly what I meant.”
Loki growled. “What do you want from me, (Y/N)?” You flinched when he used your full name as opposed to the nickname everyone called you by.
“Why? Why are you screaming at me, I’m just trying to help! Don’t you get it, Loki? I care about you. And I care about what you think, even if I am probably the only one in this bloody compound who does.” Now that was unfair. But it was also the truth. “Why are you pushing me away? Let me in…”
Desperately, you moved forward in an attempt to reach up and cup his face, only for him to grab your wrists and pull them away harshly.
“Let you in? All I have ever received in return for ‘letting someone in’ was hurt and hatred. Give me one good reason for why I should open up to you,” he mocked, releasing your hands as if they would burn his fingers if they lingered on your skin for too long. “Tell you about my sorrows.” Sorrows. He had sorrows.
“I am not them.” You simply said. “Not any of them. I am not Odin, not Thor, none of the Avengers.”
Blinking, you snapped out of your memory. You had had this tragic conversation only two nights ago. No matter what you had said, he would not tell you what was on his mind. Now you knew.
“Something is wrong with him.” You interrupted the discussion, one you had not paid any attention to, by silencing them with a loud and determined voice.
“You don’t say?”
“No, Tony, you don’t understand… Loki is… he is Jötun. Thor, has he ever voluntarily turned into his Jötun form?”
The God of Thunder thought about it for a moment—then, he shook his head. “No.” You gave him a meaningful look. “So… you think it has something to do with his species?”
You nodded slowly and swallowed.
“Then we keep him in here until he is better.” He concluded. Your eyes widened.
“What? Thor, no… you can’t keep him locked up in there! What if he doesn’t get better on his own? Are you going to incarcerate him forever?”
“That would be an improvement.” Tony tossed in bitterly.
“We have to help him.”
“We? (Y/N)…” Bruce remarked almost tauntingly.
“You’ll find us upstairs. We need to let the others know about… whatever this is.” Tony added. You gnashed your teeth when he and Bruce turned to leave. For an awkward moment, it was eerily still—right until another one of Loki’s screams tore through the uncomfortable silence. You flinched once more. He was howling in pain.
“You think it might be a disease only Frost Giants can get?” Thor asked with concern in his deep voice at last.
You shrugged apologetically. “Maybe…”
“Loki and I were going to return to Asgard next week. I shall ask around, one of the healers should be familiar with Jötun diseases.”
“Go as soon as you can. Your brother is in pain, Thor, can’t you hear that?”
The God of Thunder nodded absentmindedly. But if no one was going to do something about Loki’s suffering—whatever it was—immediately, you would do it alone. So you did what Loki would do first. You dug up his books.
-
Loki’s room was neat, tidy. The green bed had been made—there was not a single wrinkle in the fabric and the desk was all clean, not giving thin layers of dust only visible in the direct sunlight a chance. The books he had brought from Asgard, old, thick, yellowed and heavy, he had stored on a bookshelf higher than you could reach.
Sucking in a determined breath, you moved the desk chair in front of it. The polished wooden floor to your feet complained with an ear-piercing shriek as you did. Determined, you climbed up to study the titles. All of them were written in Nordic Runes, making you realise that your research would end up being a lot harder than you had initially assumed. You could not speak a word of Old Norse, let alone read those Runes. Never mind that… you needed answers—and Loki needed your help.
It took you two hours to go through the titles and have them translated via a website you had had to pay for (using Tony’s credit card details—desperate times called for desperate measures) to use its allegedly reliable services.
Then, finally, after what felt like half an eternity, you found a suitable page-turner. It was titled Mythical Creatures and Species across Yggdrasil—at least, that was what the website you used told you.
Eagerly, you opened the book searching frantically for the chapter on Frost Giants and began sucking up all the information you could get. The more you read… and the more you compared Loki’s symptoms to the described behaviour of Jötuns in the book, the more aghast you became. One thing was for sure. Loki was not sick. Loki was aroused.
Terror-stricken, you bookmarked the page, grabbed your phone and jumped to your feet, abandoning the pile of books on Loki’s floor. You needed to speak to Thor right now.
He was about to enter the bathroom when you found him, once again almost knocking into his broad form.
“I… I found something.” You choked out.
“What?”
“I found something… about Loki. Thor… he is not ill, not really, he is…” Biting your lower lip, you pushed the God of Thunder into the bathroom, shut the door behind you and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. “He is… aroused.”
“What?” He roared, blushing. “What do you mean he is aroused?”
“Look… I found this book, I…”
“You speak Old Norse?”
“No! I used… I used a translator. Thor, listen, please. It says here that to ensure their continued existence, male Frost Giants, every one-thousand years, experience the primal urge to copulate with females of their kind. Much like wolves or elves, this ‘heat’ usually begins with restlessness, extremely aggressive and possessive behaviour, unusual amounts of pent-up energy as well as an extreme hunger and loss of appetite at the very same time. Loki hasn’t showed up for lunch, dinner or breakfast and… he has been spending extraordinary times in the training room downstairs in the middle of the night lately. He barely sleeps, it seems.”
“Go on…”
“How old is Loki, Thor?”
“He is a little over one-thousand years… old.” He looked up in shock when he realised.
“That’s why he is in his Jötun form, Thor. He can’t control it, it’s not his fault, it’s… in his nature. God…” You had read it all, yet you were still working on processing it.
“This… it would explain why he tried to attack Nat. So… he is not in danger then?” Thor probed.
“No, not necessarily but—“
“So we can just wait until it is over.”
You frowned. “Until what is over?”
“His heat! If what you are saying is true and Loki’s behaviour derives from his heritage… if he cannot control his reactions, we have to keep him locked up and wait. We can’t have him ravish all the females in the compound.”
“But… he is in pain.”
An urgent knock on the bathroom door interrupted you.
“Hey, are you having a soap party in there? Other people need to use the bathroom too!” Closing the heavy book shut again, you rolled your eyes.
“There are at least three other bathrooms in this compound, Tony!”
“What are you two doing in here anyway?” He asked as he opened the door and leaned against the threshold when he spotted you two sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
“(Y/N) found out that Loki is… uh… in heat.”
“In heat?!” Tony repeated. “Like a cat?”
“No! It… has something to do with the procreation cycle of Jötuns. It… is in his nature.”
“Fuck…”
“Hey… language.” If you hadn’t recognised his voice, you would know it was Steve who joined your heated discussion. “What’s going on here?”
“Loki is in heat, like a cat.” Steve frowned.
“No, he isn’t! Not like a cat, this is…” Thor stood again before you could finish your sentence.
“It’s for the best, (Y/N). Down there, he’ll be save from getting himself into trouble.”
“Thor, wait! Loki is suffering! Soon, he will…”
“We can’t risk it, (Y/N)! He almost raped Natasha!” Tony barked. “And if you go near him, I’ll lock you up too. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, (Y/N). I will not let him hurt you.”
“He… he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.” You chirped. No. Loki would never deliberately take a woman against her will. If he did… no! Loki had in incredible amount of self-control and composure; and you knew how much he despised his own heritage. He would fight this—for as long as he could.
“Besides…” Tony added. “It wouldn’t be so bad if he got a taste of his own medicine.”
“Stop blaming Loki for your PTSD, Tony. That was Thanos’ doing and you know that.” You growled darkly. The billionaire paused for a moment.
“He is staying where he is,” he concluded then. “Until he’s gone back to normal.”
-
But you did not want to wait. You couldn’t. You had read about the symptoms in detail. In the book it said that moodiness and aggression were only the beginning. If Loki did not act on what his Jötun body demanded from him and… released, then soon, excruciating pain would torment his loins. Masturbation appeared to be out of the picture. You nibbled on your lower lip. This thought of yours invaded his privacy on a truly shameful level, yet you were certain that if sexual arousal had already been plaguing him for a significant amount of time before this outbreak of his, he would have tried to lay hand on himself already and learned it did not provide the necessary relief.
Sooner or later, he would no longer be able to suppress his erection—and it would not disappear until he… sheathed himself inside a female to fill her with his seed. Under different circumstances, the idea of him claiming a woman… you, in such a possessive manner would have aroused you tremendously yourself. As of right now, however, Loki was in agony. The pain, if ignored for too long, would only get worse—it could last up to months and even then the denial of sexual release could result in permanent damage to his loins and even his potency.
But there was no cure either. No potion or spell to contain a male Jötun’s heat which Thor could have forwarded to Asgardian healers.
It was past midnight when you stopped reading and translating—too appalled by how much more Loki would have to suffer if nothing was done about his… condition. The only way to make it stop… was to act on it.
Your lips parted in realisation. You liked him, very much so—and you found Loki incredibly attractive, dreaming of his hands on your body, even. Perhaps you could help him after all. You were not Jötun but… would his body really make a difference? This most primal part of him wished to mate with a female—and although you had never seen a female Jötun, you doubted they looked much different than you did down there.
-
You had to wait another thirty minutes until the lights in Tony’s lab finally went out and you could sneak through the compound and downstairs to the cells—and once you had made sure that Vision was nowhere to be found, you switched off the security camera for Loki’s cell and approached the thick metal door.
It was quiet. He had stopped screaming. There was no banging against the walls either. Yet when you unlocked the door and slipped inside, his appearance, cowering on the floor and leaning against the cool wall with bare feet, startled you to the core. Loki’s raven hair was completely dishevelled, his knuckles bruised and covered in dry blood. His Jötun appearance was downright intimidating and close up, even more fascinating. He was breathing heavily, the thin shirt he had been wearing underneath all of his armour torn in several places, revealing blue skin and in his dark leather trousers… there was a remarkable bulge.
You shivered slightly when his red eyes met yours. Slowly, he tilted his head. “What are you doing here?” He growled hoarsely but weakly.
“I… I want to help you.”
The God of Mischief snorted. “You cannot help me.”
Mutely, you shook your head. “I can. Loki… I… I know what’s happening with you.”
He snorted once more. “So do I.”
“Let me help you.” Taking a deep breath, you moved closer to him. He reacted immediately. Loki jerked, greedily, as if to grab you and pull you on his lap. He could barely stop himself. Yet you were convinced that he would not hurt you in this state… much. A wave of courage rolled over you—you were doing this for him; and you wouldn’t be doing it if you did not like him in this way. Regardless of what he thought of you after, if he could even imagine being with a mortal like that… you longed to stop his pain.
“Leave.” He said quickly when you kneeled down next to him, timidly resting your palms on his thighs. “No… I said… leave… while you still can.” You did not. In fact, you ignored his rather sincere warning. Slowly, to not tickle the sleeping dragon, you reached for the buttons of his leather trousers and began undoing them until he grabbed a hold of your wrists to stop you. He was ice cold.
“Have you… lost your mind?” Loki was cut off by a loud hiss escaping his lips when your fingertips brushed against his erection. He was large—much larger than he would be in his Aesir form, you presumed, and his cock too was blue and covered in dozens of ridges.
“It won’t go away on its own,” you whispered. “You know it won’t. It’s okay.”
Braver this time, you stroked him again, creating more skin on skin contact. Loki was still holding on to you tightly but made no move to stop you. The touch of a female… it must have been bringing some sort of relief already. Coming here had been the right decision.
“Loki…” You murmured. Finally, your hand closed around his incredibly hard cock entirely and you began to jerk him off—gently at first, only to pick up speed when his breathing grew even heavier than it already was. Defeated, he dropped his head against the wall, revealing his blue neck to you. “Please let me help you.” You repeated. “It’s okay. I trust you.” Upon those words, Loki’s eyes widened barely noticeably. Perhaps it was all he had needed to hear to lose his self-control and composure entirely.
Growling like a wild animal, he suddenly started at you, pushing you back firmly so you lost your balance like a beetle on its back, wrapped his ice cold hands around your ankles and pulled you into him. Your back collided with the floor, knocking all air out of your lungs. You gasped for air all the while Loki busied himself with your clothes. Any layer of fabric was too much. He wanted you naked for him. His sheer strength petrified you when he tore at your pyjamas and ripped them to pieces until they were scattered all over the cell. You trembled—but it wasn’t the icy temperature of his blue skin that made your limbs shake so much. It was, so you realised when your widened eyes fell on his massive erection, now fully springing free from his tight trousers, your own arousal growing into dizzying heights. This, whatever it was, excited you—maybe even way more than it should.
Once more, the God of Mischief grabbed your ankles, forcing your legs open. Your heart skipped a beat when he laid his blood-red eyes upon your bare pussy. Your lower lips must have been glistening with your juices in the artificial light of the cell. Loki growled, his long and cold fingers gripping your ankles so tightly you could already feel the bruises forming. Eagerly, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his hard and ice cold cock teasing your clit. A moan escaped your lips, urging him on. The fire in his eyes had returned, like your body had set his ablaze.
He spread you even further for him, your nails digging into the metal floor beneath you—and then he claimed you for his own. Inch by antagonising inch, he split you apart, sheathing himself so deep inside of you all air was knocked from your lungs yet again. He was ice cold and he was much larger than the average man; and you were beginning to understand that yes, female Jötuns were anatomically different than humans. Human women were not made for taking such long cocks… so why did every single powerful thrust of his feel so good?
Loki pulled out almost completely, with only the tip remaining inside of you, only to plunge back inside only the fraction of a second later, fucking you furiously. Your tight and wet walls appeared to mould around his manhood, gripping him tightly, asking for more despite the almost unbearable coldness against your most intimate parts. No longer were you in control of your arms. They reached up, palms gliding over his bare chest and enjoying the coldness under your fingertips. Fascinated and aroused at the very same time, you traced every single ridge on Loki’s body while he was fucking you senseless, until your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to take the pleasure. His long manhood his spots inside of you which you had never known even existed. He leaned down, at last letting go of your ankles, instead taking a hold of your wrists to pin them both down right above your head and pressing his body so tightly against yours that your clit kept rubbing against his pelvis with every single stroke. You moaned, stricken by ecstasy, and arched your back as you kept moving your hips up to meet his thrusts.
Aroused, you looked down, watching how his blue cock kept sliding in and out of you, spreading your lips as they enveloped him welcomingly.
Loki groaned, his attention steering towards your breasts as they bounced with each of his rough thrusts. Hungrily, he lowered his face, his cold breath ghosting over your mounts, and sucked your right nipple into his mouth—hard. He nibbled, suckled pulled and bit until the already hardened nub was throbbing with pleasure and need and he repeated the same blissful procedure with your left nipple all the while he kept rutting into you uncontrollably.
“Loki…” You wondered if, in his current state, he would be able to speak. As of right now, he indeed reminded you of a wolf who would annihilate anything standing between him and his subject of desire, his prey—you.
Your toes curled, the promising and numbing sensation growing in your lower abdomen having you scream his name over and over again. You could already feel yourself clenching around him, your body urging him on to mark you with his seed and impregnate you and when he finally released himself into you, burying his cock as deep inside of you as was physically possible and coating your walls with his load, he triggered your own release.
You came with a loud moan, feeling him twitch against you as your pussy contracted around him again and again until you collapsed underneath him, spent and tired from his vigorous fucking. Loki, on the other hand, didn’t even think about letting you be. Unceremoniously, he pulled you on his lap so you came to snuggle up against his cold and naked chest, your face hidden in his neck. He supported himself by leaning against the metal wall, his cock still resting deep inside of you.
“How… are you… feeling?” You breathed out, barely able to keep your eyes open. Being taken thoroughly by a Frost Giant had been a lot more exhausting than you had initially assumed.
He was panting, his eyes almost shut. His erection inside you, however, was still very prominent and nowhere near ebbing down.
“Better… soon.” He growled into your ear. Soon? A high-pitched scream escaped your lips when he sank his teeth into your neck and bit down hard enough to make you squirm on his lap. You could still feel his ice cold sperm dribbling out of you and coating his own cock when he grabbed your arse and began moving you up and down his cold rut, forcing you to ride him.
“Oh… fuck…” You choked out. You were tender already, sensitive to the touch. This was too much, too soon. Yet Loki was too caught up in his pleasure and urges to give you a break. He took you several more times that night, eliciting orgasm after orgasm after orgasm from you—until you were on the verge of passing out.
-
You awoke with a hunger unlike one you had never experienced before. Irritated, you crawled out of bed—using the toilet but skipping your morning routine to get to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. It was only seven. Loki had not… released you until half past six. There was no way your body could have drawn enough rest from this meagre hour of sleep.
Be that as it may—for now, you were hungry. Quietly, you tiptoed into the kitchen, ignoring the sweet ache and tenderness between your legs and resisting the urge to cup yourself through your pyjama bottoms. The white and bright light of the fridge blinded you when you opened it and reached for a package of juice and one of those pre-packed turkey sandwiches Tony kept buying. Unceremoniously, you then closed the fridge with your butt and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. And you kept returning to the fridge until Steve joined you in the kitchen to have a cup of coffee and then go for a run. When had you ever been this hungry before? Was it because of the aggressive sex you had had with Loki? Jesus…
You blushed when Steve asked you how you had slept—and you were rather grateful you had been smart enough to switch off the security cameras before… helping Loki out. He had still been in his Jötun form when you left at long last but he had looked content and… satisfied, in the most carnal manner possible. You would wait until the rest of the Avengers were up to check on him, to not raise any suspicion.
So when Thor staggered into the kitchen with a shit-eating grin on his face, you nearly jumped from your seat.
“Good morning!” He yelled—clearly in a very good mood. He managed to scarf down an entire package of fruit loops before you couldn’t take it anymore and aggressively scratched your fork over your empty plate until the room went awkwardly quiet.
“Didn’t you forget something?” You asked him heatedly. The God of Thunder frowned.
“No! I did flush the toilet this morning, (Y/N).”
Rolling your eyes, you stood.
“Loki. Loki is still one level below you, locked up in a cell, in pain, while you are enjoying your breakfast.” You hoped though, sincerely, that he was no longer in pain.
“(Y/N)… we spoke about this, there is nothing we can do. Down there, he can’t hurt himself or anyone else. I told you I’m going to Asgard soon, I will speak to—”
It was in this moment that your plate broke in half. You had, subconsciously, used your fork to stab it so forcefully it fell apart like a rotten apple. Eyes widening, you mumbled an apology.
“Sorry… I just… no one should be suffering like this. You all heard him last night.”
Bruce gave you a gentle smile. “You’ve always had a big heart for everyone, huh?” You nodded quickly. They did not need to know about your feelings… or the arousing ache between your legs. Your heart was racing. You took a deep breath, hurrying out of the kitchen without cleaning up behind you. Instead, you immediately locked yourself in the bathroom and turned on the tap to splash some cold water on your face. The icy temperature calmed you once it came in contact with your skin, reminding you of him—if only for a moment.
You were shaking. What on Earth was wrong with you? You took a quick shower to wind down, threw on an oversized sweater and then headed downstairs to the prison cells. A glance at the monitor of the security camera made you let out a relieved breath. Loki had indeed gone back to his Aesir form—and he did no longer seem to be in pain. It was, so you wondered, very unusual, however, to not complain and wreak havoc so the Avengers would let him out but then again… would they truly believe him if he told them he had overcome his heat?
With another deep breath, you opened the cell door and slipped inside.
“You were not supposed to see me like this last night. No one was.” He said quietly before you could even open your mouth, not bothering to make eye contact with you.
“Did you know? What was happening to you?”
“Yes.” He snorted, a bitter smile spreading on his thin lips. “I believed I would be able to control it.” Finally, he looked up, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Did I hurt you?” Your lips parted in surprise. Slowly, you shook your head.
“No… I mean… it was quite pleasurable… for me as well… actually.” You choked out sheepishly.
“Hmm… that I could tell,” Loki gave you a light smirk. “Thank you.” He said then—and for the first time since you had met him, you sensed true honesty and sincerity in his smooth voice.
“I’ll leave the door open.” You returned his smile; the planes in your belly flying loops.
“We are… keeping this between us, are we not?” He hastened to ask when you turned around.
“Of course.” After all, no one needed to know you had let Loki mate with you to regain control over his loins.
-
It was five days after your intimate encounter with Loki when your constant shaking became worse enough for him to notice—and if that wasn’t bad enough already, your body had begun to sweat; a lot. Day in and out, you had to change your sheets as if your bed was your personal sauna—or your personal hell.
You felt like you had been hit by a bus, like an extremely nasty form of the flu had you in its steel grip tightly, unwilling to let you go. Sleep, however, to get some rest and recover, would not come either. Two hours per night at most, three if you got lucky. And instead of getting better, it became worse.
He had been restless ever since. It could not be. After all, it had also never… or had it? Growling to himself, he locked the door to his room, enjoying the quietness and most of all, utter privacy.
Not a soul in the nine realms was aware he was still in the possession of the Tesseract. So when he produced it out of thin air—his large hand momentarily surrounded by a green mist—he made sure to hurry and quickly teleported himself back to Asgard. Heimdall would never open the Bifrost for him if he wasn’t accompanied by Thor.
He was worried about you and his surprise about these particular circumstances was remarkably low. When he closed his eyes, he could still taste your hard nipples on his tongue from when he had suckled on them. He remembered how warm your body felt against his when he had cradled you in his lap and the thought of your tight cunt around his throbbing cock stirred arousal in his leather trousers if only he indulged in reminiscences for too long. Most of all, however, he was unable to forget the sincere smile on your face when you had freed him from the cell the next day… and the mesmerised gaze you had met him with when he had ravished your sweet quim over and over again.
With another deep breath, he disappeared in an ice cold cloud of smoke.
-
Sneaking past the guards and into the palace library—the one place he had spent hours on end in growing up here, hiding away from Thor, his friends and the world, reading and hoarding knowledge—was pathetically easy. He knew exactly what to look for, what lecture would confirm his worrying suspicions. Once he found what he had been searching, he sat down on the windowsill—another usual spot he found comfort in—and began his research. He had known about the impact of a male Jötun’s seed on his female counterpart, of course; for even though he despised his own race, he, as opposed to Thor, had paid attention during their private tutoring lessons as children. The heavy book in his hands, however, made him, the God of Mischief and Trickery, hold his breath. What Loki had not known was that the repercussion of a male Jötun’s seed did not just occur in Jötun females. It applied to any species—including humans. However, the chances of survival for weaker lifeforms were alarmingly low.
Abandoning the book, he hurried out of the library and into the city. There was someone he needed to speak to.
-
“With all due respect, my prince but you are not welcome here.” Loki rolled his eyes. He knew it would not be fun, exactly, to seek out his ex-partners and ask about their well-being long after he had left them. The man opening him when he knocked on Sigyn’s door, a woman he had been engaged with for several years in his youth, was about as tall as Thor—his right hand decorated with a golden ring. Husband. Just great. And, judging by his obvious dismay of finding him on his doorstep, she must have told him about their shared past.
“I need to speak to your wife. Urgently. That is an order.” Sigyn’s husband growled, clenching his fists but stepped aside regardless. Loki made sure not to pay any attention to the furniture and his surroundings. Toys were scattered all across the living room, hinting that Sigyn had become both wife and mother in his absence. Her face fell when she spotted Loki standing in the middle of the small room—truly like he would even have preferred Helheim over being here of all places—as pale as a ghost.
“Loki… I mean… your highness. What… brings you here?”
“I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Um… by all means. Sit down. Would you like some ale?”
“No.” Sigyn pointed at the rectangular kitchen table and then sat down opposite of him. Her hands were folded on the surface of the polished wood.
“It is good to see you.”
“Likewise… Now this will sound odd,” he began unceremoniously, ignoring her husband towering above him with his arms crossed. “But I have to know how you fared after we separated. Not… emotionally. Physically.” He emphasised.
“Physically? That is indeed odd. Oh, I… um… let me see, it’s been such a long time. I had quite an appetite after you left,” she laughed, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. Loki sighed.
“An appetite. What more than that?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary. Except… yes, of course! I fell ill a few days after. The healers never found out what my body was rebelling against. It lasted for a few months. Tiredness, insomnia, attacks of sweat and I could not stop shaking. Why do you ask? Did you… did you experience it too?”
“No,” he replied quickly, a nauseous feeling spreading in his guts. You were showing the exact same symptoms. Symptoms of addiction. “You said it lasted for a few months?”
“I am sorry, your highness but is there a point to this interrogation? My wife has to feed the baby.”
“We’re almost done.” He barked, glaring at Sigyn’s husband from the corner of his eye.
“It did,” Sigyn confirmed. “But then it never returned.”
“Thank you. That will be all.” Loki took a deep breath and stood, resisting the urge to massage the bridge of his nose to clear his thoughts. It was only when he turned on his heel to leave this way too harmonic place that he noticed Sigyn’s husband had left the door open for him. He rolled his eyes.
“Loki! I-I mean, your highness…”
“Loki is fine, Sigyn. We have seen each other naked, after all.” Beside him, he could practically hear her husband gnashing his teeth. He smirked.
“I understand you do not wish to share with me what troubles you but whatever it is, I hope everything will turn out to be alright.”
Loki gave her a smile. It was as honest as he could muster in this tense situation. Sigyn had always known when he was being plagued by dark sorrows, even before he learned about his true parentage. Much like you. You too had been able to tell he had been unwell, both physically and mentally. He swallowed thickly.
“Thank you, Sigyn.”
He had to see Amora, too. They had not exactly gone separate ways peacefully but if she had experienced the same symptoms as Sigyn after their break-up, he had to get back to you immediately. And he had to tell you. The truth, a luxury given his nature, was the very least you deserved.
-
“Where have you been?” Thor roared as soon as he entered the kitchen to pick up one of those cold drinking chocolates you had introduced him to a while back—the ridiculous amount of sugar would help you, if only for a moment. The presence of Tony, Nat, Bucky, Steve and Thor, leaning against the counter or sitting at the kitchen table, he ignored as best as he could. He would have preferred to be alone now.
Loki quirked his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Asgard, given that you were unwilling to get help yourself.”
“How? Heimdall wouldn’t…”
“There is a lot Heimdall does not know, brother.” Thor grumbled something he did not understand but it sounded awfully like a curse word in Old Norse.
“Whatever. Have you seen (Y/N)? Her room is down the same hallways as yours, has she left her room lately?” Tony barked at him.
“As far as I am concerned, she has Vision bring her excessive amounts of food, for she is too weak to come to the kitchen herself. No. I have not seen her around.” He replied nonchalantly, with false disinterest. This time, so it seemed, however, his choice of tone, equalled shooting himself in the foot.
“We need to get her to the hospital. None of the medicines I gave her worked even a little bit—and I contacted the best doctors I know.” Loki suppressed a scoff. As if a hospital full of human ‘doctors’ would be able to help you. The only one who could… was he.
“For Fuck’s sake, she has been feeling ill ever since…” Tony’s face fell. “Ever since we locked up your brother.” Belligerently, his gaze wandered over to Loki again. “Okay, Reindeer Games, what did you do to her and don’t even try to lie to me!”
“You do assume, automatically, that I have something to do with it?” He mocked. Tony clenched his fists.
“Loki,” Thor added calmly. “Do you… know something?” The God of Mischief sighed. If he told them, what little trust they had in his capabilities as an Avenger would vaporise like smoke. It mattered not. In fact, he could not care less if any of those self-proclaimed heroes even liked him. Yet if he spoke the truth… surely they would do anything in their power to keep you away from him—which was exactly what they could not do if they wanted you to survive and feel better again as much as he did. He could just take care of the problem on his own… sooner or later, however, they were bound to find out about their intimate encounters, and he was beyond keeping secrets like that. If he wanted to make love to you, then he would, may the Norns help him.
“It is… my seed.” He choked out reluctantly.
“Your… what!? Your… yeah, no, I can’t say that out loud without throwing up… is making her sick!?”
“The seed of a male Jötun is causing… an addiction. Withdrawal will make her weak and ill.” Loki looked up grimly. “Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships.”
“What, like penguins? How did she even come in contact with… did you… did you rape her? I swear to God, I will kill you.”
“I did not lay a finger on her.” Loki replied darkly.
Tony threw his hands up in the air. “So how did your happy juice get inside of her in the first place then!? How did that happen, I wonder?”
“She came to me voluntarily, Stark!”
“But you knew? If you knew it would make her sick, why didn’t you stop her, you selfish asshole!?”
“How!? How, Stark!? Resisting the urge to mate in heat is like attempting to suppress a sneeze. It’s impossible. Don’t bother your pathetic human mind with things you do not understand.”
“Loki…” Thor began warningly. The God of Mischief ignored him with a hostile growl.
“(Y/N) would never do that.” Tony said then.
“Perhaps you do not know her as well as you thought you do.”
“You little shit, I will…” Tony jumped from his chair as if stung by an adder, prompting Loki to draw one of his daggers seemingly out of nowhere when he started at him. Both Natasha and Steve barely managed to hold him back.
“Leave it, Tony. This is Loki. He is just trying to provoke you.” Nat appeased.
Just this one time, however, they were wrong. Loki did, in fact, care about you. It was just he had not realised that until you had willingly offered your body to him when he had been in pain. Glaring at them darkly, he rose from his chair.
“I am going to fix this.” He spat. It almost sounded like a threat. “Not for you. I could watch you drop dead to my feet without so much as blinking. But for her.” Fuming, he stormed out, his right fist still clutching at his dagger in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. And as of right now, Thor knew better than to stop him.
He needed to see you. Remorse and guilt were eating him up from the inside out—and it wasn’t just the fact you had helped him in spite of everything he had done to Midgard only a few years back. It was… you were… Loki closed his eyes for a brief moment. You were his.
When he knocked on your door, there was no response. Now there was a chance you were asleep, yet he somehow knew better than to leave and try again later as to not startle you. After all… he was going to make you feel better.
He slipped inside, locking the door behind him with magic so you would not be disturbed. The sight of you almost broke his heart. You were trembling, buried under a pile of blankets, pale and weak.
“(Y/N)…” He spoke with a quiet voice, approaching you slowly. Your eyes opened when you heard his voice, your weak body barely managing to turn over to look at him. A cough escaped your lips before you could answer him.
“Hey…”
“How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.” You tried for a laugh but could only manage another cough. With a straight face, he sat down on the edge of the bed so he was able to bring his palm to your forehead. You were incredibly warm, yet the sweat made your skin cold to the touch. His heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he was worried you only had a few weeks left until your body gave up fighting the withdrawal. He would not, ever let this happen.
“I brought you some cold drinking chocolate.”
“Oh…” You chuckled weakly. “Thank you. Is that the only reason you came?”
“No,” he laughed. “I came to check on you.”
“An eye for an eye, huh?” Your eyes fell shut when you smiled.
“Hmm… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated than that.” He purred. You never noticed how his eyes fell on your crotch, even if it was covered by a bunch of blankets. Slowly but determined, he slid his left hand under the layers of fabric until he found what he was searching for. With skilled fingers, he began to massage your clit until he felt you responding to his attentive touches. You arched your back, your sex growing wetter and wetter fast—like your body knew exactly what would follow. Licking his lips, he scooped some of it up to spread all over your quim and create even more friction. You were squirming by the time he removed the blankets entirely and positioned himself between your legs, careful not to shift all of his body weight onto you.
Was he going to… did he… could he possibly… reciprocate your feelings? Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies awakening in your belly. If only you could…
“Loki… Loki, I… I really want to do this again too but… not now, I’m… I really don’t feel well.”
“Shhh…” He would ponder over your words later. You wanted to do this again too? Had it not just be compassion and pity that had driven you to offer him your most intimate parts for relief? And what if you refused him now? You had to trust him. So he shut you up by pressing his lips against yours, capturing them in a passionate kiss and then, once again slowly but determined, removed the blankets and peeled your pyjama from you until he had you naked—fine, he had helped with magic; and he was certainly too impatient to remove his own clothes, so instead contented himself with freeing his growing erection from his trousers only.
A whimper escaped your lips when you caught sight of his arousal, his tip—not blue but the colour of flesh this time—pressing against your entrance. He slid inside you to the hilt with almost no resistance, your warm pussy welcoming him in. Loki moaned when your walls gripped him tightly; it was like your body already knew his release would make it feel better. Only this time, he was in control. This time, he would take his time and make gentle love to you—right until you began to tremble underneath him for entirely different reasons.
Your eyes fell shut when Loki started moving, retreating almost completely only to plunge back deep inside of you fast and passionately. You were too weak to buck your hips, as much as you would have loved to. And despite your weariness, he felt incredible. You were unable to decide which form of his you liked better.
You kissed him again when his nose brushed against yours and his breath tickled your lips, bathing in the intimacy between you. But when he slid his hand down to where your bodies were united to pamper your clit all the while speeding up, hungry for his release, you stopped him, albeit gently.
“I… I don’t think I can, I’m too… but I… it’s okay.” You murmured. “Cum.”
It was a request he could not resist, not any longer. Thrusting forward a few more times, his release was beginning to overwhelm him. He groaned into your ear, his hot breath brushing against your cheek, and let his climax consume him. He was throbbing against your walls, his seed—surprisingly warm and not as cold as it had been the first time—filling you to the brim and until you could feel it dribbling out of you again. Loki stilled, turning you over so you both rested on the mattress on your sides, with his slowly softening cock still inside of you and one of your legs draped over his hips. One heartbeat passed, then another and another. And just like that… you felt like you had been reborn.
“How… I feel so much better.” Loki kept silent. Remorse was sparkling in his blue eyes. Avoiding your curious gaze, he looked down, with a start fascinated with the blue roses on your bed sheets.
“Loki?”
“You did fail to read all of it, did you not?” He stated quietly.
“What… what do you mean?”
“The book you took from my shelf. I looked it up when you got worse. It wasn’t until I left for Asgard that I realised why our… sexual encounter is making you ill.”
“I… wait… Does that mean you believe it has something to do with you? I mean… what we did? Is it… I’m not pregnant, am I!?”
“No. You are not.” He smirked at you weakly. “That, I would have sensed already. No… I’m afraid it is a little more complicated. Frost Giants live in strictly monogamous relationships. They never… switch their partners once they mated during their first heat. If they do…” Loki took a deep breath. “It appears that the seed of a Frost Giant triggers some sort of… addiction for their female partner. They develop a carnal craving for their seed which forces them to keep returning for… more.”
Biologically speaking, this was a downright bulletproof way of ensuring the survival of a species—the Jötuns’ own bodies turning against them and demanding sex. The gravity of his words, however, hit you only a moment later. So this was why you had been feeling so sick lately. You were showing signs of… addiction. Your body had become addicted to Loki’s seed. You swallowed thickly.
“I-is there… is there a way to stop this?”
“I went to speak to my former partners back on Asgard—which, to be frank, does not just sound like a disaster. But I needed to know if they experienced any symptoms similar to yours when we… separated.” You ignored the painful sting in your heart when he said ‘former partners’. Of course Loki had had sex before, had perhaps even been in love. He did not strike you as the type of Norse God who was unexperienced in the art of love making. After all, he had more than just proved this to you. It mattered not, not now.
“And… did they?” You probed nervously.
Loki nodded seriously. “They were both bedridden for months, plagued by uncontrollable trembling and sweating. Their appetite increased, they ate twice as much than they usually would without ever feeling truly full… and they barely slept anymore, tossing and turning for most of the night. Amora added she became increasingly violent as well. They, of course, believed it was a virus which would pass, eventually.” Terrified, you remembered how you had broken your plate in the kitchen the night after your lovemaking. It all made sense now.
But you did not dare ask what this meant. When dreaming of having a relationship with Loki, you had not imaged a partnership out of physical and sexual necessity which would feel like a chore to him; like an obligation now that you had helped him out, after all.
“But they were Asgardian.” He suddenly said, pausing to let his words sink in. “You are human. You are mortal. I am uncertain you would survive…” If I stopped having sex with you. Is that what he had meant to say before he stopped himself abruptly?
Taking a deep and shaky breath, you gathered all of your courage, as weak as it may be.
“This is all my own fault, Loki.”
“It is not—“
“N-no, let me speak. It’s my fault. You couldn’t help it. And I came to you on my own accord. But…” You swallowed. “Even if I had known, I still would have helped you.”
The God of Mischief frowned when you reached for his hand and held it—but it was a downright vulnerable expression.
“Loki… I’m not going to expect you to keep having sex with me if you don’t… I mean…” It was then he began to smirk cheekily.
“And if I do?” Loki had truthfully speaking always been a puzzle—always keeping his deepest thoughts and feelings all to himself. Until now. So he did reciprocate your feelings.
“Y-you do?” His smirk widened.
“It… does get better after a while, once the pair is more acquainted to each other’s bodies,” he continued. “And they are then able to spend more time apart without any signs of withdrawal showing. Ultimately, however, once the male Jötun claimed her, the female is bound to him… if he decides to keep her.”
Despite your weakness, you raised an eyebrow. “That sounds pretty sexist, Lokes.” Loki looked up. His heart jumped when you gave him a nickname.
“Sexist? No. Dominant? Yes.” He growled darkly.
“You’re right. It’s probably not sexist given that male Frost Giants go into heat.” You giggled in response. Loki tickled your sides for that remark, making you wriggle around on the bed. If your hunch was not deceiving your love-drunken mind, then the God of Mischief had just begun to court you.
“Loki?” You mused, raising your voice in a shy manner.
“Hmm?”
“I think I feel fit enough now to have an orgasm.”
The God of Mischief laughed—as heartily as you had never heard him laugh before. “Do you now?”
Next thing you knew he was already on top of you again, covering your naked body with tender kisses.
-
A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥
#raw desire#loki#loki imagine#loki x you#loki x reader#loki fluff#loki smut#jötun loki#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson imagine#loki laufeyson x you#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson smut#loki laufeyson fluff#loki odinson#loki odinson imagine#loki odinson x you#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson fluff#loki odinson smut#marvel#marvel imagine#mcu#mcu imagine#thor#thor imagine#the avengers#the avengers imagine#tom hiddleston#jötun loki imagine
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Caw’s Mythology
For those who are new, Wednesday is labeled as Odin’s Wednesday here. Which is in honor of the Norse god, Odin. The word itself; Wednesday is derived from “Wodan's day" and Wodan means Odin.
While unrelated to Norse Mythology or even Odin himself. I feel like I should talk about where all of this “mythology talk” come from. What started my interest in them, share some of my second-hand findings and open up about my attempts on making my own mythology.
- Riordan and Gaiman -
My first introduction to mythology came like how most of us did back in 2010. Through Uncle Rick Riordan’s <Percy Jackson and The Lightning Thief> Though I only read the books or...listened to the audiobooks a little later in life. The works of Uncle Rick has always fascinated me. His method for how he wove the various mythologies into the world of America is really interesting and it got me interested into creating my own world.
This is also followed by his other works, <The Kane Chronicles> and <Magnus Chase> which showcases various cast characters, magic systems and monsters that played significant roles on the mythology it is based from. The Kane’s is based on Egyptian mythology and follows Carter and Sadie Kane, siblings of an archeologist who is also a magician for The House of Life. Meanwhile, Magnus Chase is Annabeth Chase’s homeless cousin. After the tragic loss of his mother, Magnus makes a shocking discovery that his father is a Norse god and became an Einherjar for Odin.
Equally as interesting was Neil Gaiman’s <American Gods> A story about a world where the old ways of pagan belief is long forgotten and the new gods have taken over. The series follows Shadow Moon, learning about the various gods from various backgrounds including his new bosses identity who goes by the name; Mr Wednesday.
I’ve covered in detail a long time ago in my old post, [World-building: The Gods of Mythology] discussing the various ways how authors used mythology to update the myth itself with a more modern spin. In this post however, all you need to know through this long explanation is that this was where my interest started. Or rather, my interest for the actual origin of the gods started.
After reading the books and watching the show, I’ve grown to be fascinated in the other pantheons from other cultures and thanks to YouTube. I was able to find some channels that provides a “quick study” on a particular god/ mythology/ creature and so on.
- Red, Blue and Ireland -
By sheer chance, I came across a channel; [Overly Sarcastic Productions] where the hosts, Red and Blue talk about different subjects. Red talks about mythology and legends with fun illustrations while Blue does some history with maps and silly one liners. OSP is really good with what they do while constantly updating their content with the new material like, deep diving into the earliest origins of certain gods like Loki, Dionysus and attempts to stray away from their intended subjects or extend their subjects with bits of said subject but in a different angle. Red talks about tropes, fables and folktales while Blue covers parts of history and significant figures.
While I was tuning in. I also begun to do my own share of research. Looking into other types of myths and searching for mythologies that is yet to be tapped by writers and that was where I found Ireland. More specifically, about the Tuatha de Danann, the Fomorians and the various monsters and creatures found in their tales. I also check my sources with channels that talked about mythology aside from OSP while understanding some of the real life history for the state they are in today. Channels like, [Tale Foundry] and [Mythology & Fiction Explained] are good channels to start the conversation.
If you must know, Ireland is a place that is often times under attack by various invaders of different countries which houses quite a number of mythologies from other parts of the world. The Christians have a tendency to stomp out all pagan belief the moment they set foot to a “NEW” land so, a lot of the stuff I’ve read about Irish Mythology has a default asterisk in the corner saying: “Take it with a massive bag of salt”
I may have lost it, but I remember how I would spend restless nights searching for answers about a pantheon of sorts about the Irish Gods, creatures and monsters and compile them into a document. I remember, The Dagda who is often considered as the Head of the pantheon, The Morrigan, a war goddesses with three different identities, The Badb (The Crow), Macha, and/or Ernmas/ Anand, Lug the half-god, half-Fomorian, Nuada; the champion and high king, there is of course, Lir. The god of the sea. The three brothers of craft; Goibniu The blacksmith, Credne the silversmith and Luchta the carpenter and finally, mad druid named Dian Cecht.
I remember reading up about the Fomorians, the Nuckelavee, the Selkie, the Changelings, the Aisling and the fearsome Dullahan. I was engrossed in it. Studying every inch I could and trying to find some story to be my starting point.
Notice that I didn’t mention Leprechaun?
While it was the most popular of them all in modern times, the Leprechaun is only one of the many interesting fairy folk that lived among the Irish after the gods were forced to be exiled to the otherworld. There was so much material that I started to unconsciously shape my own <Percy Jackson> through Sadie mac Lir. Who at that time, was named; Cindi mac Lir.
Scrapped stories aside. The name stuck onto me, like an earworm name that just refuses to leave. What I’m getting at here is that I had to commit “own world genocide” a million times. I’ve conjured up various ideas in my head and onto paper but it was never brought to public because I had doubts and worry about misrepresenting a certain culture or inspiration it was based on.
Hell, I’m not even from Ireland! I’m from Malaysia/ Malaysian for goodness sake! (yes, this is a confession. I’m a Malaysian.)
- Moving Forward and Caw’s Future -
When I first thought about writing for Sadie (or Cindi at the time) I had this whole idea about fusing the mac Lir namesake with the hero, Fionn mac Cumhaill and his crane-skinned bag of weapons. I pictured Cindi to be blonde and had a general idea of what she’d look like which probably was why I had to scrap off straight away.
I wanted to make something original but at the back of my head, I knew that this is nothing but a cheep rip-off. I knew that it wasn’t ready, I wasn’t ready because I have yet to find my system and a story that I wanted to tell and while I did have a design for it. I kept it off the public eye.
Even as of now, I have yet to find my story but as of late. I have been practicing again. I’ve been keeping track and taking notes as well as reviewing them. Improving it while applying pressure more to myself because I felt that I should make it right, that I need to make it right. That it needs to make sense and that it should be original.
Despite this, I’m often in awe of how some people just...do it. They ignore the imperfections, the lack of originality and fixed them along the way instead. With all this big talk about how I wanted to make my own world, Sadie has been through one hell of a development and she is still far from being original but as my creation, In some way. She has developed a soul.
She’s getting restless, lonely and tired of being by herself within the pages and to be honest, I felt the same. Another character that I had down solid is this Lovecraft inspired chap; Hector James Dagger but he too, never saw the light. There are many others, cringe ones that stare back at me among the scraps. Wondering what will become of them or they’ll be used again? Perhaps my mythology shouldn’t be perfect and it wouldn’t be perfect. As the saying goes.
“Mythology is stories, and stories change with every telling...In mythology, the characters are gods. So the gods end up evolving alongside their society.”
- Red (Overly Sarcastic Productions)
And maybe, that could be the answer. As people, we change our minds all the time and often times, its reflected in the characters we made, the monsters build, the scenarios we put them in and even the magic systems don’t have to be perfect or completely new. They can be based on somewhere and they can be flawed because real life is flawed. Scholars have often pointed out, that myth is more than just stories. They are stories that has a mix of history in them. Hidden between the lines and in the environments we see today.
While most kids books about mythology love to have them arranged as a neat chronology of events. The truth is, mythology is more like a scattered collection of stories connected by a thin web. They are not the same species of insects but they are all trapped under the same web.
There is so much to think about and I am excited as I am fearful of getting called out for “you stole this idea from so-n-so” but so is everyone else who made their first characters or their first world and, that’s ok. Myths reflect history and history is about life itself. Life takes time to develop and so long as there are those who still breathe, the pages will continue.
Thanks for reading
- Caw4B -
#rick riordan#neil gaiman#percy jackson#carter kane#sadie kane#annabeth chase#magnus chase#mr wednesday#mad sweeney#mr nancy#overly sarcastic productions#fomorians#irish mythology#fionn mac cumhaill#tuatha de danann#the secret of kells#aisling#dullahan#hplovecraft#howard phillips lovecraft#hector james dagger#sadie mac lir
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As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.
Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.
Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.
During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.
As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.
What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.
And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom.
The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.
When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing. I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.
First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly.
Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.
Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?
Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.
Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold.
Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.
This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.
Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.
Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.
Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.
For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.
You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.
As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.
I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children).
As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.
I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.
It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.
Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:
Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”
I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.
She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”
“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”
Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”
“Than what?”
“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.
337-338
To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.
I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical.
It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.
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Part 2: Thor Novelization Boogaloo: Loki and the Genocide of Jotunheim
So, if you haven’t read it already, you might want to go back to Part 1 here.
I spent a bunch of time highlighting this novelization for research purposes (I plan to write some stories about our tricksy boy at some point) and while I know it’s Thor’s story (which has some interesting bits to be sure, especially depending on who writes him), there’s some really intriguing Loki content here, and it speaks volumes just how much is actually cut out of the book versus the movie.
I’m actually going to start off this entry with some of the information provided at the end of the book (”A Guide to Asgard & More”)
First, there’s Odin, whose description is literally: “is king of Asgard and the mightiest of the Asgardians.”
Like, I don’t know about you, but that comes across as rather sus, my friends. Nothing about his family, who he cares about, his oft-spouted “peace”. Nope. Power. That’s it.
There’s Queen Frigga: “Mother to both Thor and Loki. Her greatest attributes are beauty, Asgardian strength, and great patience.”
I mean, other than (gag) offering her appearance as being one of her main characteristics, sure, ok, she’s strong and very patient (anyone would be to put up with the rest of the shenanigans that Odin and her kids are constantly up to). She’s also described as a mother- an involved parent. Where Odin is basically just like “IM KING BEYOTCHES” The queen seems to have at least some priorities that don’t focus on holding onto power.
Then we get to Thor, who is “Asgard’s greatest warrior, son to Queen Frigga and King Odin Allfather, and brother to the trickster known as Loki. He is Prince of Asgard and is next in line for the throne. Thor’s closest friends and most trusted allies are the Warriors Three, Lady Sif, and Loki.”
Here we learn more (Frigga gets top billing, which is refreshing), especially how Thor and Loki relate to one another. It’s pretty telling that Loki, while being called a trickster is also considered a “closest friend and most trusted ally.”
Then we get to Loki’s entry: Loki, the Master of Magic, knows deep down that the throne of Asgard will never belong to him. Often the voice of reason to his brother Thor, Loki is the one who summons Odin to save them, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif from the grave threats on Jotunheim, though Loki’s motives might not always be completely honorable.
Just to break this down a little. Loki’s billed as “Master of Magic,” which means that his magic is strong and a defining trait.
I do find it interesting that it specifically skirts around his actual parentage/throne and just specifically says that Asgard’s throne won’t be his. Also, the way it sounds in Thor’s description is that Thor, by the virtue of being eldest, is the one getting the throne, but there’s some interesting phrasing later on in the book that makes it pretty obvious that’s not the case.
The fact that Loki (billed as a trickster in Thor’s entry) is also considered the voice of reason, it is very interesting they also note that he “might not always be completely honorable.”
To extrapolate from that phrasing, it means that he is likely always honorable to some extent, it’s just that his motives are sometimes not aligned with that of Thor/Odin. Which, considering that he is the voice of reason....might not be a bad thing? Plus, it is pretty obvious that the motives of most of the Asgardians are that of glory in battle, delighting in violence, and using heavy-handed displays of machismo to gain and hold onto power. Loki grows up under this kind of socialization, so it goes to show that he might pick up on some of those cultural lessons, but figure out different ways to use them since his power seems to be more scholarly/magical than sheer brawniness.
Over and over again we see that many of Loki’s end goals are actually very similar to that of Odin and Thor. But he is regularly derided and attacked for going about it in a way they don’t approve of (ie: making plans, using magic, gathering allies, and influencing people to get what he wants instead of calling some massive one on one duel to the death in a coliseum with spears).
Another section details information on the Casket of Ancient Winters: “While there are many dangerous items inside the vault, the Casket of Ancient Winters is the most feared. Taken from the realm of Jotunheim by Odin to prevent the Frost Giants from taking over the Nine Realms, it has the power to cause instant and never-ending winter.
Ok, that sounds pretty horrifying, right? It’s a weapon! It could hurt people! Odin had to take it away for the good of peace, right? RIGHT?!
NOPE! IT WAS THE APOCALYPTIC DESTRUCTION OF THEIR ENTIRE WORLD!
Here’s what the book has to say about Jotunheim: “The Realm of Jotunheim was once full of stunning cities built entirely of ice. After Odin took the Casket of Ancient Winters, the once beautiful buildings began to crumble and melt. Now most of the land has floated away in large chunks. The Frost Giants wander the desolate and lonely landscape, angry and thirsting for revenge against Asgard- and their king, Odin Allfather.
Ok, so imagine you live in a world with your own cities, culture, and society, and some asshole comes to your world and basically takes away all of your technology murders the majority of your people, and destroys your world so badly that your entire people are now homeless in a wasteland with no opportunity to rebuild? How many children died of starvation on Jotunheim? Did Odin steal and then sell or “adopt” out other Frost Giant babies to Asgardian families or sell them to other worlds as slaves?
From Ragnarok, you can see that there’s some pretty damning evidence that Odin built Asgard using slavery, so it’s quite possible that they had no trouble using Jotuns in a similar manner:
Are we actually supposed to believe that they are happy about that? There’s a truce, sure, but did Asgard go to help the other ice giants that were affected by the complete destruction of their world? Nope. They were literally subjected to genocide and the last stragglers were left to die slowly. If the situation had been reversed, I imagine that Asgard would consider themselves justified in trying to retaliate against Jotunheim. But since they’re big, blue, “monstrous” etc....well, that makes it ok according to Odin.
I find it really interesting that the book doesn’t include a scene where Loki turns blue and finds out about his parentage, so that’s really interesting as well. This is turning into a bit of a novel, so I’ll save that bit for Part 3.
Thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged and chatted about Part 1. I hope you like my thoughts, and as always, I love to hear what you think about how the text informs the films.
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Odinson M.D. (Loki x reader) Pt. 1
I’m excited for this series honestly. I’m doing a lot of research so I write this medically correct tho, if yall see anything wrong don’t be afraid to tell me ^^
Summary: Y’all wanted a House AU so here it is. Loki is a doctor who keeps most people at bay with his sharp wit and sarcasm. He doesn’t understand the need for romantic ploys and casual human discussion. He thrives in the hospital, trying to figure out the unknown, even if his methods turn a bit morally ambiguous at times. That’s why he has Thor and Frigga to keep him in line although he would argue he has no need for it. You just happen to be a doctor on tenure under Loki’s tutelage along with Steve Rogers and Peter Parker. Can you convince the jaded doctor you’re just what he needs to keep him on his toes?
Loki feels the, what had started as pin pricks now, full blown boredom eating away at his overactive mind. He folds sticky notes, from his rolling chair, into small balls and flicks them over to his brother, Thor, who stands fiddling with a broken, plastic Santa sitting on the desk they hang around. Thor proudly wears his white lab coat on top of a nice plaid button down and brown, pressed slacks. Loki prefers to stick to his more casual clothes, if not a bit fashionable for casual, for a doctor. He wears a black cashmere sweater with gray, pressed slacks, a nice pair of oxfords to finish his style. It’s enough to keep him warm during the winter season.
Christmas, such a mainstream holiday. Loki abhors this season what with all the festive cheer and decorations that litter NYC. You can’t walk two feet without being guilted into giving money to the people who stand on corners with bells for the Salvation Army. You can’t buy something nice without a cashier smiling at you, as if all knowing, and asking who you’re giving this gift to with cheerfulness in their high pitched voices. What he especially hates is that Odin expects him to show up to the family dinner every Christmas, seeing as Thor has a wife and has to spend half his time with her family. Loki is the black sheep that’s expected to pick up where his brother has neglected. All in all, Loki would demolish this one holiday from existence if he had the even the slightest chance.
The only good thing about being a doctor was that meant he could get away from most of the holiday by working through it. He couldn’t always escape the dinners seeing as his mother, Frigga, was of administration and Dean of Medicine on his floor. Not only did that hinder him but his father owned the hospital, so he was at a disadvantage, if only by a bit.
“We are condemned to useless labor.” Loki sighs out, his fingers playing with another yellow sticky note, crushing it into a ball.
“Fourth circle of hell,” Thor replies with a roll of his eyes as a paper ball launches towards him, hitting him in the cheek before falling to the ground. “Charting goes a lot faster when you eliminate all classic poetry, brother.” Thor says lightly. A suggestive twitch of his lips all Thor gives to a bored Loki.
Loki takes time from making paper balls to look over at the pile of charts next to him, sitting on the clinic’s lobby desk, waiting for his attention. He’s sure if the charts came to life they would resemble a dog, desperate for attention, wagging its tail with excitement when he finally looks at it. “Writing down what we already know to be read by nobody,” Loki brings his attention back to making another paper ball, completely ignoring the fact that Thor had rolled his eyes so hard he probably has a headache. “Pretty sure Dante would qualify that as useless,” Loki says lightly, a frown on his lips.
“You’re two weeks behind on your charting!” Thor says with exasperation, stopping his fiddling with the Santa to look at Loki as if he had offended Thor personally.
Loki flicks another ball at Thor, however he misses his target and, it sails past Thor, hits Frigga on the chest whom had just walked into the clinic. She watches the paper fall to the ground, giving Loki a look of disappointment. The man gives his mother an innocent smile from his seat. “Oops! I missed.”
“Are you eight years old?” The poised woman asks with a squint in her eyes as she walks over to the side of the desk Loki and Thor reside at. She picks up one of Loki’s charts and reads it with flickering eyes.
“Could an eight year old do this?” Loki asks, catching Frigga’s eyes, and sticks his tongue out at his mother who rolls her eyes. What is it about Loki that causes everyone to roll their eyes? Something he’ll never get the answer to, not because he can’t but because he doesn’t care enough to find the answer when it’s so painfully obvious.
Loki’s mother lifts Loki’s chart, she had picked up, a little higher as if trying to garner Loki’s attention, after she had finished reading through it, and looks at him with frustration. “You have a patient in exam one, Loki.”
Loki settles further into the rolling chair, throwing the pad of sticky notes on the desk, bringing his hands together over his stomach and lacing his fingers. Loki embodies the epitome of comfort and relaxation. He shrugs. “Yes but see I’m off at twelve and it’s already five off...” He shakes his head minutely with a look that says ‘Not much I can do’. He’s rather hoping his mother will let him off the hook this one time. He knows she has a soft spot for him and takes full advantage of that. Thor remains quiet on the matter, playing with the plastic Santa that’s supposed to sing when you press its button.
“She’s been waiting for you since eleven.” Frigga says with finality. Setting his chart down, Loki swears he could hear a gravel slamming down, and then she leaves but not without a pointed look at Loki. This meant Loki isn’t getting away this time. He sits there with his lips pursed and a frown etched into his eyebrows as he watches her retreating form.
“Melancholy without hope, which circle is that?” Loki pointedly asks Thor who looks at him with a sympathetic look only causing Loki to scoff and rolls his eyes as he stands, grabs his cane, and makes his way towards exam room one.
Loki limps into the room, already conscientious about his gold and green cane, making sure it doesn’t hit the wall as he slips into the exam room.
Looking back Loki doesn’t regret the choices his made on the cane. The man liked attention from the right people. He hates most casual people seeing as he usually finds them boring, predictable, and the need for small talk not something he takes much joy from. The cane definitely stood out and was the starter of conversation for common man that passed him by, unfortunately. This wasn’t enough to make Loki regret his ostentatious picks on his cane though.
The cane itself is light but durable. The stabilizer at the bottom had four anti-slip feet, covered by a wide quad base, all black and shiny. The cane, in all its glory, was emerald green, specifically requested by Loki, and had snakes engraved in the metal base. The snake outline, repeated around the entire cane, were then dusted in gold and, shined pretty and proper when in the sun. The snakes that run from the bottom to the top, run up the cane with open mouths as if devouring the brethren that followed up the last snake. When they reach the top of the cane, the handle’s edge, they stopped. The handle itself was covered in pure gold. The inside of it was carbon so it was lighter to carry but still very durable. The handle was fashioned after the head of a Black Mamba. Sleek and slim but one of the deadliest, most venomous snakes in the world. A symbol of Loki’s true power, or at least that’s what he told anyone that asks. In all honesty, Loki had picked the Black Mamba head because he thought it looked cute. He had a reputation to uphold, however.
Loki pushes his way into the exam room to find three nuns, one on the medical bed with two nuns on each side. As he closes the door he turns his head so he may let his eyes go wide without the women seeing his exasperated look. He turns his head back after the door is closed and he reins in his emotions.
“Hi, I’m doctor Odinson,” Loki supplies the three women, setting his cane aside in the room and looking up at the women with a small tilt of his lips. “What seems to be the problem?” He asks the woman sitting on the bed.
“Show him your hands, Augustine,” One of the sisters demands of Augustine, the woman on the bed Loki tabs in his head.
As the woman shifts the cloth covering her hands Loki takes the time to pop a pain pill into his mouth, swallowing without water if only because he’s been taking them for years for his disability. The use of the word disability is new, seeing how he didn’t take to the word too kindly in the beginning. As of now, he has accepted it for what it is and calls it as it should be, a disability. Something that may hinder him but does not define who he is or ever shall be.
Sister Augustine lifts her hands in front of her and they shake a bit as she holds them out for Loki to examine. They look raw, red, and as if they’re wet but in reality it’s because they’re covered in an ointment and severe rash. They’re pruned as if they spent too much time in water. When she turns over her hands to show him the palms he notes that they’re also raw and red, but more so and bleeding probably from scratching.
“It looks like stigmata.” The sister on the right of Augustine needlessly announces to Loki, or possibly to no one in particular. The other sister on the left shushes at her. Loki has to resist the urge to roll his eyes at her remark. Of course this ignorant nun would condemn her sister for something as simple as an allergic reaction. She finds the rash to be a form of disgrace on her sister. Typical.
Loki steps forwards, his eyes on her hands, “Must be all the talk around the holy water cooler.” He lightly supplies the three sisters with a joke to break the tension that had risen from the sister’s remark of stigmata. His eyes come to rest on her hands and as he reaches up to hold them in his own says, “You been washing a lot of dishes lately?” Loki glances up at sister Augustine’s aloof face.
“I help out in the kitchen.” Augustine replies.
“Anything new in the kitchen?” Loki asks, trying to pinpoint what’s causing the rash.
“We just got a donation of pots and pans this week.” The nameless nun tells Loki which supplies Loki with an answer for her reaction. Dish soap, pots and pans wouldn’t have caused such a reaction.
“I unpacked and washed them.” Augustin gives Loki, trying to help him out.
“Should have spent your time saving souls,” Loki says, his natural sarcasm coming over him, “It’s easier on the hands.” He says with a face that could be taken as contrite but is actually irony. “This is contact dermatitis. You’re allergic to dish soap.” Loki tells the nuns, his mind bored with how easy this diagnoses is.
As Loki turns to write down his report in the chart one of the nameless nuns speaks up. “Nonsense! We’ve always used that soap, why would it be a problem now?” She asks Loki.
Loki lets his head tilt back as he looks at the ceiling with a playful look on his face. “I’ve been a doctor for years,” He looks at the nun who spoke up, “Why do I have to keep assuring people I know what I’m doing?” He asks rhetorically. Not only talking about the nuns, Loki thinks of the many times where he has had to convince his own mother, and brother, that he knew what he was doing, going so far as to proving it.
“A person can become allergic to substances they’ve had repeated and prolonged exposure to.” Loki explains, his eyebrow raising perfectly, as if asking if the sisters had any other remarks to make before he looks down at the chart for Augustine to write his report real quick.
Loki then makes his way to the cabinet and picks out a small box inside of it. “Good news is, free samples!” He gives a fake smile, and excited tone, to the nuns. “I’m giving you an antihistamine to stop the allergic reaction,” He explains his process. “Take one every eight hours, might make you sleepy, and get some over the counter Cortisone cream, for the itchiness.” Loki looks at sister Augustine to make sure she understood his words, nodding at her when she gives an understanding nod, then handing her two pills from the box he had pulled from the cabinet.
“Thank you, doctor.” Augustine says with a small smile and nod.
“Want me to get some water?” Loki asks the women.
“I have some tea!” A nameless nun says, grabbing her thermos and giving it to Augustine.
Loki nods at the nun and backs up to pick up the chart. “Relax for a minute, the pills work pretty fast.” Then he leaves the room thinking he is done for the day in the clinic, thank god.
Loki throws the chart on top of his other charts he had left on the desk with Thor, in the lobby, and sighs as he limps around the desk and to Thor’s side.
“Still out by twelve.” Thor says, more so to grate on Loki’s nerves than anything.
Loki lets it go but replies, “How do you solve the problem of dermatitis.”
“Doctor? I want to thank you for your patience.” A sister says interrupting the conversation Loki was about to have with Thor. One of the sisters from Augustine’s side now stands in the clinic’s lobby with Loki and Thor. Her face showing she genuinely means it.
Loki manages to give Thor a disparaging look when he asks, “She talking to you?” As if shocked Loki was getting any kind of compliment. Loki can’t fault him there, he isn’t used to getting compliments either. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t bask in it but it is a little uncomfortable.
“I don’t know, she’s certainly looking at me...” Loki says back to Thor, shifting his weight from foot to foot in discomfort. He turns, watches, as the sister makes her way over to him, standing a little over a foot away. Enough distance to be comfortable since she is a stranger but a little too close for Loki’s comfort anyways. He hates people, so physical, so sentimental.
“It’s so good to get a secular diagnosis.” The nun offers Loki with a gratified look on her face, her body swaying with her words like she really means them.
Loki feels the frown come over his face and he tilts his head down at the sister.
“The sisters tend to interpret their diagnosis as divine intervention.” The nun explains to a bewildered Loki.
“And you don’t?” Loki asks, his voice not betraying his confusion but it’s definitely there. This sister is very...different from regular nuns, he can already tell. Her ideologies being promulgated so plainly are leaving Loki in an almost disoriented state. “Then you’re wearing an awfully funny hat.” Loki says, his sarcasm coming out to hide his true feelings on this whole conversation. The sister merely tilts her head with a look that says ‘Very funny’.
“Oh boy.” Thor whispers behind Loki. Loki can feel him shifting as if he wants to escape this situation just as much as Loki. “Excuse me.” Thor says grabbing all his charts and reports so he may make a swift exit. Loki glances back at Thor, his face now shifting from its usual neutrality to a look of perplexity and a hint of longing as he wants to leave too. Loki looks back to the sister, hiding his emotions again as she speaks.
“If I break my leg I believe it happened for a reason. I believe God wanted me to break my leg,” The sister says, her face showing nothing short than utter earnestness that almost makes Loki gag. “I also believe he wants me to put a cast on it.” The sister finishes causing Loki’s lips to twitch upwards and forget his brief nausea. He likes her, something no one that truly knew him would take lightly.
“Doctor! Something’s wrong!” The other sister says loudly as she races into the lobby. This breaks the little moment the sister was having with Loki and he stands at attention.
They all make their way back to exam room one with hast in their steps and Loki’s limp.
When Loki enters the room he finds Augustine to be hunched over, rapidly breathing but the air is filled with wheezes as if she can’t get breath into her lungs. Loki quickly tabs this as an asthmatic attack but grabs his stethoscope and brings it up to her chest. “Lift up your chin.” He demands softly, letting the stethoscope land on her chest when she does and moves it from the left to the right side listening to her lungs and heart as she panically breathes in faster.
“Sister you’re having an asthma attack, I need you to relax,” Loki drops the stethoscope from her chest, taking it from his ears, and turns to the drawers in the room, “Roll up her sleeve, please.” He demands of the sister next to him. He quickly picks up an syringe from the drawer he opened and turns back to sister Augustine. “I’m going to give you epinephrine,” He explains. “It will open your lungs and help you breathe.”
Loki uncaps the shot, by mouth, and quickly sticks the sister’s arm, injecting the liquid components of the epinephrine into her upper arm with fluid movements as if he’s done this a thousand times before, because he has.
Loki looks up at sister Augustine to assess the situation. The cap of the needle still in his mouth which he lightly grinds around with his teeth, almost nervous but not quite.
Everything is quiet for a moment. Loki takes this time to remove the needle from the sister’s arm and replace it with a cotton ball which he presses to her skin with moderate strength to stop any blood flow that may have followed the intrusion.
“What happened?” One of the sisters ask.
Loki foregoes the answer to that question to ask his own, “Did she take the pill?” He looks at the sister next to him, the one that had warned him of the situation and had stayed behind with sister Augustine. The one that had called it stigmata.
“Yes.” She says in a tone that betrays confusion and defensiveness.
“It’s an allergic reaction.” Loki explains ignoring the sister’s emotions at his question.
“She’s allergic to an anti-allergy medicine?” The same sister asks in an incredulous tone now.
Sister Augustine sits there taking in small mouthfuls of air, as if she now understands breathing is a commodity. Her body is still hunched over as she grabs at the medical bed with a white knuckled grip. Loki looks at her sympathetically. “How are you feeling?” He asks thinking about what variations he can use to treat her allergic reaction on her hands now that the blood rushing experience is over. “I’ll put you on some steroids instead.” He decides out loud, capping the syringe he used and throwing it away in the designated red safety box.
“Is my heart supposed to be feeling so funny?” Sister Augustine asks breathlessly, Loki watching as she brings a hand up to grab at her chest.
“It’s called adrenaline, makes the heart beat fast.” Loki says flippantly but puts two fingers on her pulse point on her wrist just to check if it’s something worth looking into. Loki looks at Augustine with concern, his eyes flitting around the room in thought, “But not this fast.”
Sister Augustine takes in a deep breath, wheezing again.
“Get a nurse, please.” He tells one of the sisters in a calm but pressing tone.
Sister Augustine leans into Loki’s body with a whimper and he grabs her so he may lightly rest her on the bed in a supine position. He leans over her watching her and trying to figure out what’s wrong, what could possibly be causing this, and how to fix it, fast.
“Somebody help!” Loki hears the nun call outside the room.
His attention is diverted when sister Augustine passes out. He quickly puts the stethoscope in his ears and puts the diaphragm on her chest, checking for her heart beat first, then her lungs. There is no comforting beat to be heard and her breathing has completely stopped as if it never existed, pulling this situation from a simple allergic reaction to something far, far more serious than Loki had anticipated.
“Somebody get in here!” Loki yells out frustrated no one has answered their calls for help. Finally a nurse in blue scrubs comes in, realizing the situation is of immediate emergency and looks at Loki so she may help.
“Call a code and charge up the defibrillator, she’s got no pulse.” He says speedily, starting to perform CPR on sister Augustine. The nurse flees from the room in record time to grab a defibrillator and yell at someone to call a code blue.
Loki manages CPR for a few minutes until the defib team comes in and takes over. They only barely manage to bring sister Augustine back to life.
Loki stands at the doorway, the two other sister next to him praying, he bites at his thumb. His mind is racing with the need for an answer. What caused this? What was he missing? It’s an allergic reaction, there’s no doubt about that, nonetheless he can’t figure out why everything he tried sent her into further shock. She couldn’t possibly have been allergic to everything he gave her, antihistamine and epinephrine. There is a factor here that he doesn’t know about, something is missing, and he would figure it out if it was the last thing he did.
Loki barely glances at one of the sisters as they take a drink from a thermos before going back to saying their Hail Mary’s.
Tagging (because they showed interest for this series): @rosaline-black @blueberrynonnie
I won’t tag yall in any other posts unless you specify you’d like that! i just wanted you both to know i started it and if you’d still be interested 😊
#odinson m.d.#loki x reader#loki#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#he goes by odinson in this because he isn't completely mad with his family#they have problems#but not like terrible problems like in the movies#idk ill figure it out as i go!#anyways#new series!!!!#i wanted to write one part as the whole episode but this is only the intro of the episode and it's already long#so i thought nah ill break it up#idk how many parts there will be exactly depends on how long i make each part#and you havent come in yet#but you should by next chapter i think#house auction#house m.d.#doctor!loki#doctor!thor#doctor!frigga#my writing#honestly i think this is my best writing#i felt like an actual author for once with how well i was describing things XD#odinson m.d. pt1
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MCU “Thor”: Who’s to blame for Thor’s banishment?
So I’ve seen around people blaming Loki for Thor’s banishment and…
… I can’t help but wonder if they realize that, by saying so they aren’t just pinning the blame on the wrong person but they’re doing a HUGE, GIANT SIZE disservice to Thor.
But let's list sources used for this first.
SOURCES MENTIONED:
Movies: “Thor” (2011), “Thor – The Dark World” (2013)
Comics: None mentioned
Direct-to-video animated film: None mentioned
Motion comics: None mentioned
Books: None mentioned
Novels: “Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor” by Alex Irvine (2015)
Webs: None mentioned
Others: “Thor” old movie script, Interview “Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR”, interview “EXCLUSIVE: Screenwriter Don Payne Talks Thor!”, Interview “SDCC 2010: Chris Hemsworth Interview THOR”, Video “Thor (2011) Chris Hemsworth Kill Count”
Although “Thor” is meant to be an origin story for both Thor and Loki…
Kevin Feige: The movie, very much, is an origin of Loki, almost as much as it is an origin of Thor. We had to ride that balance. There were drafts where Thor took over too much, and there were certainly drafts where Loki became too prominent, and I think we found a nice balance that is clearly the origin of both of those characters. [Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR]
…the focus was mostly on Thor and his journey to learn humility.
I mean, this is not MY interpretation of the story, it’s basically what everyone involved in the production says the story is about. Thor is unworthy, the banishment is just, from it he learns humility and becomes worthy again.
Don Payne: Whereas we’ve got an extra-dimensional being once worshipped as a god by the ancient Norse who’s banished to earth and stripped of his powers to learn humility, all set amidst the Shakespearean intrigue of a dysfunctional royal family. You just have to find the things that make Thor timeless and relatable as a character. It certainly helps that he’s charismatic and likeable, albeit flawed. He’s banished for good reason, but I think people will want to go on the journey with him and root for him to find redemption — particularly with Chris Hemsworth’s performance. [EXCLUSIVE: Screenwriter Don Payne Talks Thor!]
Kenneth Branagh: That story arc of the flawed hero who must earn the right to be king is in our piece, but what’s key is the stakes. There, it’s Europe and England, and here, it’s the universe. When that family has problems, everybody else is affected. If Thor throws a fit and is yelling at his father and is banished, suddenly the worlds are unstable. [Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR]
Chris Hemsworth: At the beginning of this film, he’s certainly a brash, cocky warrior who’s about to inherit the keys to the kingdom, and his father thinks that he’s not ready. It’s the journey of him learning some humility through the film. I think he’s one of those people who has his heart in the right place. He’s doing what he’s doing for his family and to protect the kingdom, and he thinks it’s the right way to do it. It just happens to be a very aggressive way of doing it, which probably isn’t the right way. It’s about tempering that raw emotion that he drives off most of the time, into the right direction. [SDCC 2010: Chris Hemsworth Interview THOR]
And in fact Thor makes a 180° turn from how he started.
The boy then man who insisted he wanted first to kill all the Jotun then give them a lesson is the one who sacrifices his chance to meet Jane again to save them.
Young Thor: When I’m king, I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all! Just as you did, Father.
and...
Thor: March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they’ll never dare try to cross our borders again.
versus
Thor: You can’t kill an entire race!
The man who said his father was an old man and a fool, becomes the one who says there will never be a wiser king than Odin.
Thor: And you are an old man and a fool!
versus
Thor: There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father. I have much to learn. I know that now. Someday, perhaps, I shall make you proud.
The man who returning from Jotunheim was too busy to care for how Fandral got hurt so that it was Odin who had to say to get him to the healing room, is the one who, once back to Midgard, first worry about having his friends getting Heimdall on the healing room and then about what he’ll do with his brother.
Odin: You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom? Get him to the healing room! Now!
versus
Thor: Get him to the healing room! Leave my brother to me.
The man who thought his father’s lessons were wrong, then admits his father was right.
Thor: While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls.
versus
Thor: Neither did I. My father was trying to teach me something, but I was too stupid to see it.
The man who first was told by Loki going to Jotunheim was madness and did it anyway then tells Loki how destroying Jotunheim is madness.
Loki: Thor, it’s madness.
versus
Thor: Loki, this is madness.
The man who would start a fight just because he was called ‘princess’ versus the man who kept on refusing to start a fight with Loki even after the other hit him four times and only does so when Loki threatens Jane.
And then there are the comparisons that got lost because some scenes got cut. For start an even better comparison, in which another man calls Thor "Princess" and Thor this time refuses to fight.
Jotun: Run back home, little princess.
[Thor stops in his tracks. Loki goes white. He knows what's coming.]
Loki: Damn.
[In one quick move, Thor pulls Mjolnir, swings it, and KNOCKS the Jotun clear across the plaza. The Asgardians reluctantly draw their weapons, gather into a circle around Thor. Volstagg looks around at the angry Jotuns approaching them.]
versus
Drunk townie: You were in the diner with that hot girl.
[Thor doesn't like where this is going.]
Drunk townie: I wouldn't mind her doing a little research on me.
[He laughs. Thor is annoyed.]
Thor: I have no quarrel with you. But she's a lady. You should be more respectful.
Drunk townie: And you should shut the hell up, princess.
[Selvig looks to Thor, concerned that he's going to lose it. But, to his surprise, Thor remains unaffected by the Townie's baiting.]
Thor: I will not fight him.
Drunk townie: Then it'll be easy to kick your ass.
Or like the deleted one in which Frigga said that Thor believed to be ready… when in the end Thor will realize he’s not.
Odin: Do you think he’s ready?
Frigga: He thinks he is. He has his father’s confidence.
versus
Thor: There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father. I have much to learn. I know that now. Someday, perhaps, I shall make you proud.
You might remember Thor smashing a cup because he wanted another drink… well there’s a deleted scene in which, just before the Warriors Three and Sif reach Midgard, he brings a cup to Izzy in payback for the one he broke.
Thor: This drink, I like it.
Darcy: I know. It’s great, right?
[Thor hurls the empty mug at the ground, SHATTERING it.]
Thor: (CALLS OUT) Another!
[ISABELA ALVAREZ (60), the diner’s proprietor, glares at Thor from behind the counter.]
Jane: Sorry, Izzy. Little accident. What was that?
[He doesn’t understand. The other patrons stare at him.]
Thor: It was delicious. I want another.
Jane: Well, you could have just said so.
Thor: I just did.
Jane: No, I mean, ask nicely.
Thor: I meant no disrespect.
Jane: All right. Well, no more smashing. Deal?
Thor: You have my word.
Jane: Good.
Versus
As the group finishes breakfast, Thor looks at the mug in his hand, gets an idea.
Thor: [About a cup] May I have this?
Darcy: Sure.
Thor: Thank you. Please, excuse me. [Thor leaves. In front of her diner, Isabela prepares to open for the day. Isabela sweeps the front porch. She looks up to see Thor approaching. She eyes him suspiciously. He offers her a MUG.] Excuse me, Isabela.
Isabela: Oh my gosh.
Thor: To replace the one I broke. Please, forgive me for my behavior.
Isabela: Okay, thank you.
Thor: if I may, I’d like to come back here for more of yours splendid "coffee".
Isabela: Any time.
And then you might remember how Fandral was hurt in Jotunheim and it was Loki and Volstagg who helped him, while in a deleted scene we’ve Selvig being hurt and Thor helping him.
And so on and on and on.
Thor started one way, this caused his banishment and the banishment changed him.
If we go and say Thor didn’t deserve to be banished, that it was all Loki’s ploy, we ignore how Thor before was an unworthy person and after he became a worthy person. We turn Thor into a person who’s ALWAYS worthy, regardless of him acting one way or its exact opposite but for some reason was misjudged and punished unfairly and never really had to change because he was perfect as he was.
We turn Odin into a fool who punished a worthy son for crimes he didn’t do and then took the punishment back not because Thor changed, but because he realized he made a mess.
The idea Thor’s banishment is Loki’s fault is against the authors’ intentions, damages Thor by stripping him of his growth and, ultimately, it’s totally false, so trying to pin the blame on Loki so as to make him look bad is simply wrong.
Although Loki did some things that triggered Thor’s reactions, Thor wasn’t completely and utterly brainwashed. It was Thor’s decisions who ended up bringing those consequences and Loki had no idea Odin would go as far as banishing Thor.
In a deleted bit Loki says Odin normally ALWAYS forgive Thor.
Fandral: Well, if he doesn’t show up soon, he shouldn’t bother. Odin looks like he’s ready to feed him to his ravens.
Loki: I wouldn’t worry. Father will forgive him. He always does.
From Thor’s reaction to his banishment it’s clear it’s the first time he got such a punishment and that he assumed all he had to do to be forgiven is to retrieve Mjolnir.
The novelization is not shy to say that:
Odin had always favoured Thor because Thor was a warrior, just like him… [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]
The Warriors Three and Lady Sif clearly follow Thor because they don’t think it’ll end up in Thor being banished for disobeying Odin’s orders even though they know he shouldn’t have done it.
This proves it was the first time Odin reacted as such to Thor’s disobedience.
But let’s dig more into the story.
Loki yes, caused the coronation to be delayed by having three Frost Giants sneak into the vault and attempt to steal the Casket.
His purpose was:
Loki: That was just a bit of fun, really. To ruin my brother’s big day. And to protect the realm from his idiotic rule for a while longer.
Loki has no reasons to lie to Laufey about this. The ‘a while longer’ clearly imply he didn’t expect it was permanent. If he had said ‘to have him banished forever’, it would have affected Laufey just the same, he wouldn’t have judged him worse.
Thor’s reaction to the invasion is entirely Thor’s.
Thor: The Jotuns must pay for what they’ve done!
Odin: They have paid, with their lives. The Destroyer did its work, the Casket is safe, and all is well.
Thor: All is Well? They broke into the weapons vault! If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics...
Odin: They didn’t.
Thor: Well, I want to know why!
Odin: I have a truce with Laufey, King of the Jotuns.
Thor: He just broke your truce! They know you are vulnerable!
Odin: What action would you take?
Thor: March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they’ll never dare try to cross our borders again.
Odin: You’re thinking only as a warrior.
Thor: This was an act of war!
Odin: It was the act of but a few, doomed to fail.
Thor: Look how far they got!
Odin: We will find the breach in our defenses and it will be sealed.
Thor: As King of Asgard....
Odin: But you’re not king! Not yet.
Loki doesn’t even talk here. Thor, despite Odin thinking the opposite, insists they should just attack Jotunheim until Odin reminds him he’s no king.
This is relevant because if the coronation has concluded and the Jotuns had found on their own the way to get into the Vault, Thor would have waged war against them. This is what he wants to do and discussing things with Odin doesn’t change his mind, Odin merely forces him to shut up with his ‘I’m the king’ card.
Originally he would leave slamming the door behind himself, a sign he was still upset. We don’t see this, but we see him he’s still upset enough he turns a table upside down.
Then he has a discussion with Loki.
Thor: It’s unwise to be in my company right now, Brother. This was to be my day of triumph.
Loki: It’ll come. In time.
Thor: What’s this?
Loki: If it’s any consolation, I think you’re right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard’s defenses once, who’s to say they won’t try again? Next time with an army.
Thor: Exactly.
Loki: There’s nothing you can do without defying Father. No, no, no. I know that look.
Thor: That’s the only way to ensure the safety of our borders.
Loki: Thor, it’s madness.
It’s true, if Loki had revealed he had been who orchestrated the break of the Frost Giants instead than telling him he also thought they were a threat, Thor might have calmed down. But this is not excuse enough for how Thor disobeyed Odin’s order, and only proves Thor wasn’t fit to be king right there because he insisted on going to Jotunheim even though Loki also reminded him this means defying Odin.
This is a serious matter but the key of it is that Thor wanted doing it before and still wants to do it now. He just can’t control his own wish to fight the Jotuns even if his father told him no. He’s not thinking. He’s not a common warrior, he’s the man who’s meant to be king.
If it takes him so little to wage war, then he’s unworthy of being king.
And does Loki really want for him to go to Jotunheim?
Not in the slightest, he knows it’s madness, in fact, believing Thor can’t be stopped, he tries to have him tattled out to his father.
Fandral: Well, at least he’s only banished, not dead. Which is what we’d all be if that guard hadn’t told Odin where we’d gone.
Volstagg: How did the guard even know?
Loki: I told him.
Fandral: What?
Loki: I told him to go to Odin after we’d left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should never have reached Jotunheim.
Volstagg: You told the guard?
Loki: I saved our lives. And Thor’s. I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did.
In a deleted scene we see that as the group is about to ride toward the Bifrost Loki leaves them for a moment to talk with a guard. He’s not lying when he says he warned the guard.
The novelization digs a lot in how Loki didn’t want them to reach Jotunheim and in how Odin KNEW Thor would just do something, so it’s entirely possible Thor would have acted even if Loki had disagreed with him or had told him nothing.
“Why did he always seem to get into trouble because of his older brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wiser one? Odin has expressly forbidden that they enter Jotunheim. Yet it wasn’t the first time Thor had done something reckless. And it wouldn’t be the first time Loki was powerless to stop him.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]
Loki had made a decision. True, he could not dictate his brother’s actions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t continue to make plans of his own. As the others checked and double-checked that they had everything they would need for the journey to Jotunheim, Loki slipped away.
When Loki rejoined the others, they were on their way to the Observatory. Hogun gave him a curious glance, but he ignored it. What he had done was none of their business. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]
They were on their way to Jotunheim.
And what would happen once they got there was not in the hands of fate, but in the hands of his impulsive brother and his warrior friends. Loki would not be able to manipulate events there. He had to trust that the arrangements he had made would be enough for them all to survive. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]
Odin spent an uneasy night and felt no better in the morning. He had not seen Thor since their argument in the Vault. There had been shouting in the banquet hall as Thor told his friends what had happened, but Odin had heard nothing since. Frigga had tried to reassure him that Thor’s temper would ease and this would blow over, but Odin knew better. His son felt himself to be king already, whether the ceremony had been completed or not. He would take action. It was his nature. Odin hoped only that the action would not cause more problems than it solved.
Just then, a guard rushed to him, and Odin’s misgivings were proved correct. Thor had taken his friends and journeyed into Jotunheim. Odin felt a deep well of fury rise up within him. Thor has deliberately disobeyed his orders. So, too, had Heimdall, who should not have let anyone pass on the Bisfrost – especially not a war party going to Jotunheim.
“Tell the barn master to have Sleipnir and my battle gear to be readied immediately,” he ordered the guard. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]
Once in Jotunheim Laufey notices Thor wants to be there to wage war. He even warns him that if he keeps this up he would unleash something terrible… and it’s not Thor but Loki who accepts Laufey’s offer for them to leave, Thor doesn’t accept it even if they’re outnumbered and risk being all killed because, as Laufey said, he craved for battle.
Laufey: Your father is a murderer and a thief! And why have you come here? To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. You’re nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man.
Thor: Well, this "boy" has grown tired of your mockery.
Loki: Thor, stop and think. Look around you, we’re outnumbered.
Thor: Know your place, Brother.
Laufey: You know not what your actions would unleash. I do. Go now, while I still allow it.
Loki: We will accept your most gracious offer. Come on, Brother.
Ultimately, even if Laufey and Loki had almost persuaded Thor to leave, all it takes is a small provocation and Thor starts attacking Frost Giants.
Jotun: Run back home, little princess.
[Thor stops in his tracks. Loki goes white. He knows what’s coming.]
Loki: Damn.
[In one quick move, Thor pulls Mjolnir, swings it, and KNOCKS the Jotun clear across the plaza. The Asgardians reluctantly draw their weapons, gather into a circle around Thor.]
Loki is clearly not happy with his brother’s actions, he didn’t want this. It’s Thor who decided to do this anyway and, during the battle, we see that Thor is in a great spirit as he destroys a Frost Giant after another for a total of 145 Frost Giants (you can see the dead count in the Youtube video “Thor (2011) Chris Hemsworth Kill Count”).
Through the battle first Sif and then Loki TWICE will urge Thor to leave, they’re outnumbered they’ll end up getting killed if they remain there and it gets no better when Fandral gets wounded.
When Odin shows up Thor is all for continuing the battle.
Thor: Father! We’ll finish them together!
This is not Loki dictating his moves. This is all Thor and ultimately it’s Thor who argues with his father once they’re back, which is the last straw for Odin.
If Thor had kept quiet or had acted sorry Odin might have still forgiven him. He does not.
Thor: Why did you bring us back?
Odin: Do you realize what you’ve done? What you’ve started?
Thor: I was protecting my home.
Odin: You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom? Get him to the healing room! Now!
Thor: There won’t be a kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act. The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you.
Odin: That’s pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You’ve forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior’s patience.
Thor: While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls.
Odin: You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy!
Thor: And you are an old man and a fool!
Odin: Yes. I was a fool to think you were ready.
This is no Loki needling Thor, this is all Thor, this discussing matching the one he had in the Vault with Odin previously.
And, credits when it’s due, at this point Loki tried to interject.
Loki: FATHER--
[Odin turns with a growl and gives Loki a look which stops him in his tracks.]
Only at this point Thor will be banished and while yes, the way Loki chose to interrupt the coronation clearly had upset Thor and his words didn’t manage to calm him down, it’s also clear that not only Loki didn’t want for them to go to Jotunheim and almost get killed but that it’s Thor’s reaction to the situation that causes his banishment and that situation could have happened regardless of Loki having a hand in it or not.
Invasions happens.
The difference between “Thor” and “Thor: The Dark World” in which another invasion takes place, is that although Thor is always trying to disobey to his father in both movies, in the first he did it because he wanted to go at war with the Jotuns, in the second he did it because he hoped to spare Asgard from a war.
In the deleted scene for “Thor: The Dark World” even Odin acknowledges Thor was right.
Odin: I thought you’d been blinded by passion but in truth you were the only one who could see and you... did what needed to be done
His motive for disobeying his father in “Thor: The Dark World” is the exact opposite than it was in “Thor”, but if he’d been the old Thor he would have had no qualms to drag all Asgard into a war.
So yes, Loki set up the situation, but if Thor ended up being banished it was solely for his own reaction to the situation, a situation that could have happened in other circumstances.
Would Loki coming clear with Odin lift Thor’s banishment?
No, of course not, because none of Loki’s actions are what moves Odin to decide for Thor’s banishment. What pushes him to decide for such a punishment are Thor’s reactions to the situation. If Loki had confessed the most this could cause was for him too to also be banished.
And, to Thor’s credits, he grew in his banishment and became a better person. This is important, it doesn’t deserve to be underscored.
Also, as said before, Loki couldn’t predict the punishment would have been banishment and he didn’t control Odin either.
Not only Loki actually tried to stop Odin, but even Frigga in a deleted scene begged Odin to reconsider and he refused.
So yes, Thor’s banishment ultimately turned out to be convenient for Loki, but he didn’t deliberately orchestrated it, he didn’t plan that far.
So really, let’s just Thor have his moment of personal growth in which he becomes a better person in his own movie, let Odin have his own agency in deciding if to punish his sons or not and just accept the whole trip to Jotunheim wasn’t something Loki wanted nor Thor’s banishment something he could predict.
In short simply accept the story as its authors wanted it to be.
I get not everyone might be aware of interviews and deleted scenes but really, I would say the movie made the whole thing obvious enough to be understood just by watching it.
#thor#loki#thor odinson#loki odinson#odin borson#kevin feige#kenneth branagh#don payne#mcu thor#mcu thor the dark world#laufey#jane foster#jotunheim#asgard#midgard#fandral#volstagg#frigga#9 worlds study
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The story with the horse
Loki X Reader
Ok so I saw that your profile has requests open and I love the way you write Loki mischeif and shenanigans so if you have time there's a prompt I really want to read ok so here it is: Thor introduces you to Loki's great great great great... grandchildren. They're horses. You and Loki have an awkward talk. Idk if you know about Norse mythology (I don't) but I saw that apparently Loki got fucked as a horse and had a baby??? Thanks for reading my weird request, love your loki mischeif.
Request by @dragonagebelike
Firstly, thank you a lot for the request, I had a lot lot of fun with this one! :D
Secondly, sorry if it's a little late, school just got me really busy and I wanted to research into this one a little more :)
Warnings: None, though mention of blood and stabbing (slight)
“You have sent her where to?!”
“You’ve heard me, brother. To the horse stables. Why wou-“
“Thor, I swear to Odin, if she-“
“If she what? I think she’s got the right to know! Especially since you proposed-“
“There’s nothing to know, you moron! It’s a damn horse!”
Loki rushed through the halls of Asgard, past other nobility and servants who leaped aside very quickly. There was always a certain caution needed in front of Loki, but a furious Loki was even more erratic.
He was followed by his brother Thor, who looked quite amused by Loki’s outrages and still kept talking.
Outside in the gardens the gardeners as well took cover and hurried as far away as possible. But Loki didn’t even glanced at them, his thoughts were running around you and what disaster Thor might had caused.
Finally they both reached the horse stable to find you next to one of the many royal horses. With horror Loki realized just what horse exactly ha caught your opinion.
Your face lit up when you noticed Loki walking towards you.
“Loki! Why have you never shown me this place? All these hidden gems…��� Lovingly you caressed the horses neck.
Meanwhile Thor leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a big grin on his face.
“Yes, brother, why haven’t you?”
To his fortune, Loki ignored him. “Darling, why won’t we just-“
But you also didn’t paid attention to him, but was struck by the beauty in front of you.
“Oh my, look at this one’s eyes! Have you ever seen such a bright green?”
Thor chuckled “Oh yes, more often than I want, actually…”
Suddenly he bent over in pain, a slight cry escaping his lips. Holding his hand against his waist, he noticed the small dagger. “Bastard,” he whispered quietly.
You turned to him in concern. “Thor, are you okay?”
“Yes, Lady Y/N, I’m-“
Annoyed Loki stept in front of him and blocked your sight. “Y/N, my mother would love to discuss about the wedding preparations”
“Oh, sure, I’ll be on my way.” Suddenly a little bit more nervous but also exited you thought about the wedding ahead of you, all the preparations, all what needed to be done and fixed. But then the horse’s eyes caught yours again and a strange thought occurred. “Loki, don’t you think your eyes look a lot alike? The similarities are really… No offence”
“What a coincidence!” You heard Thor shout a little bit too…exited.
Loki turned his head very slowly, and Thor could latterly feel the daggers in his abandon again, so he shut up.
Not seeming to notice any of their fights you traced the horse’s neck, deep in thought. “Yes, what a sweet coincidence…”
But a quick glance to Loki, turned your contemplation into concern. “Dear, are you alright? I really didn’t mean no harm, the green of your eyes are really just as green as the horses.”
“Yes, brother, you wanna finally tell, your fiancé what you wanted to tell?”
For second you glanced at Thor in confusion, before shifting your eyes back to Loki. “Tell me what? Did I do something wrong?”
Loki’s eyes softened almost immediately. He sighted in defeat. “No, my dove. I’m just afraid, what I’d tell you, will quite…irritate you.”
“Oh? Now im interested.”
“Me too, me too.” You heard Thor say once more, and once more Loki slowly, too slowly turned towards his brother, a way too calm expression on his face.
“Thor… right now, the only thing inhibiting terrific murder is my Y/N, so I suggest, if you don’t want to end up stuck-“
“Yeah, yeah, you’ll stab me or to more horrendous things. Believe me, I got this after a few years.” Nevertheless, Thor made his way towards the exit of the barn. “Anyways, I think you two deserve some time alone to…talk. Have fun!”
“Oh and Lady Y/N, if necessary – you know where to hit.”
“Thor…”
“I’m gone, I’m gone.”
Once he was gone you turned back to Loki, curious of what he had to say.“So…”
Loki cleared his throat. “You see. This one was quite a very long time ago. A very, very long time ago…”
“Loki”, you chuckled. “It’s alright. I know what I was getting into when I said yes.”
But he didn’t really seem to listen, he kept on staring at the horse… that seemed to stare right back.
Suddenly he took your hand in his and started to pull you away, out of the stables. “This horse is getting on my nerves.”
You laughed amused, but followed him nevertheless. Once outside, and pretty far away from the stabled you started once again.
“You see, many years ago, you got the picture, when Asgard was being built.”
“You mean the whole kingdom, or…?”
“Yes, the whole kingdom. And the planet, too, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that at that time I was …found of this woman, called Freya.”
You gasped. “Freya? The goddess of Love?” Loki was prince, yes, but Freya? Oh, wow.
“And marriage, yes.” Suddenly he placed both his hands on your shoulder, looking in your eyes strenuously. “But that was a very long time ago. She doesn’t mean anything to me now, you hear.”
Softly you put a hand on his cheek, smiling a little bemused. “Loki, it’s okay. I would be surprised if there’s never been someone special on your side.”
He smirked. Of course he did. “Naturally. The problem was only, the main builder - some irrelevant Hrimthurse – was promised to wed Freya, so of course, I needed to intervene.”
“What did you do?” You asked with sincerely curiosity.
“I stole his horse.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“In the shape of a horse.” He added. “A mare, to be exactly.”
“Oh.”
“And gods, humans, horses, there’s no difference in how to distract the males in the easiest way.”
“OH.”
“So yes… it’s in fact no coincidence Sleipnis’ eyes look much like mine.
But, darling, it’s just a horse to me, nothing else. In fact, it belongs to Odin now and means nothing to me.”
“Oh.”
“Love?”
He was uncertain of how you would react. Surely it was quite some news.
But his concerned soon turned into relief when a bright grin appeared on your lips.
“I’m the stepmom of a horse?”
#Loki x reader#Loki x you#loki x y/n#Loki imagine#avengers#avengers imagine#marvel#loki chat#marvel imagine#loki#loki god of mischief#Thor#thor Imagine#mythology#loki x reader
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You know those annoying 'actually everything is connected' theories ? Well, I've got one about The Mechanisms' albums
(Please hear me out I swear it's good)
The Bifrost Incident ends with a world-ending catastrophe. The Gods arrive into the world, dragged in by Odin's train, and they destroy it.
What's the first sign of their arrival ? Communications breaking down.
Civilization-ending catastrophes and communications mysteriously breaking down... Doesn't that remind you of something ?
Yep, that's it: the catastrophe mentioned in Holder of the Grail.
This unknown catastrophe that cuts Fort Galfridian from the rest of the world and destroys an entire civilization could very well be the one that starts in Terminus.
Meaning that the events in High Noon over Camelot could be the direct consequences of the events of The Bifrost Incident.
But it doesn't stop there.
Arthur survives. He is, as Mordred puts it, "the once and future king". To our knowledge, he was never officially called King of Camelot but sure enough, he kind of was the King of this place. But... what about after ? If we see Arthur again in the Mechs' canon, it means there's a strong chance he will wear the title of King.
And who is the only character in the Mechs' canon who ever wore the title of King ?
Now hear me out.
After the events of Ulysses dies at dawn, all hope seems to be gone. Ulysses dies in peace, but all hopes of revolution seem to have faded away. The Olympians' grasp on the City seems impossible to challenge in the slightest. But one day, a strange ship crashes in the middle of the darkest street of the City.
Out of the wreckage climbs a man, with a half-empty pistol. He takes a look at the strange new world around him, and nods gravely. He has a destiny to fulfill.
Arthur will be King. That's the lasts thing Mordred told him, and he won't let this last thread to his past disappear. So, he gets to work. In one month, the whole city has heard of him. In one year, even the Olympians fear him.
When people ask him if he's really going to fight the Olympians, the man who calls himself Cole laughs, and answers calmly that it's not the first time he takes over a planet.
The City learns to fear his name and his gun. To many, he's just another crime boss. Some rumors start to spread, saying that he is an Olympian, just like the others. And this gives Arthur an idea.
Arthur starts to take a stance against immortality and the Acheron. He uses his men to spread anti-Acheron propaganda, calls out the Olympians' corruption and even manages to expose the Sphinx scandale using Oedipus' old research. The oppressed people of the City follow him and many of the Olympians' men turn against their old masters. A year later, he launches the first world-wide rebellion the City has ever known.
General Cole utterly beats the Olympians, and executes them all - which takes a little longer than expected, but still, finally works. He seizes all of their research and locks them away. He is elected King of the city, now renamed New Constantinople.
(PS: Hades doesn't stop the rebellion and just escapes. Mainly because they've run the Acheron for so long they got a bit bored of it. Also, because Brian seems to really like Cole for whatever reason.)
At first Arthur's reign is calm and prosperous. King Cole grows old and stays merry. But eventually people start realizing that Cole's longevity might not be natural. His subjects, especially the older warriors who fought at his side during the Revolution, start to get a bit suspicious: what if Cole had used the Olympians' technology to extend his own life ? What if he had become an Olympian in the end ?
Arthur didn't become immortal, but he did use the Olympians' research to extend his life far beyond his normal lifespan. Now that he is King, he refuses to let death get in the way of his destiny.
You know the rest: King Cole turns into a bloodthirsty monster, and finally, General White's rebellion puts an end to his reign and his life.
Now you're going to say: "But Arthur and Cole are so different. How could Arthur become Cole ?"
So first of, Arthur turned evil only after almost a millenia of technology-expanded life which definitely caused damage to his mind. As Jonny says in Once: "the technology that had extended his life throughout the millennia had warped his mind as it had withered his body".
(Which, by the way, is also what seemed to happen to those who were "brought back" from the Acheron in Ulysses, cf Orpheus' backstory)
But Cole isn't that different from Arthur:
- Cole and Arthur both fight with a gun, and both seem very skilled at it.
- Cole is paranoid. Which would make a lot considering Arthur's backstory: just when he was about to save his world, Arthur saw his two lovers being shot in the back by his own son, who then proceeded to completely destroy the world, sparing no one but him. Nobody in the universe would be more afraid of betrayal than Arthur.
- Cole is driven by a thirst for conquest. Arthur was too: in the very beginning of HNOC, he takes over Camelot and establishes a personal rule on the city. With good intentions, sure, but still.
- They have the same outlook on fear.
Remember when Arthur said that ?
Well...
Yeah...
(Also the three little pigs could act as a sort of dark reflection of what Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot once were: three unbeatable warriors, matched by no one... except this time they're not united by love for the other two, but by fanatical devotion to a leader)
So, in this theory, the "ending" of the Mechs' universe would be pretty optimistic. No matter what insane authoritarian rulers will try to do to stay in power, justice, truth and love will win in the end - even if it requires a lot of suffering and death to get there. Or, as Arthur said:
#the mechanisms#the mechs#jonnathan sims#jonny sims#jonny d'ville#the bifrost incident#high noon over camelot#ulysses dies at dawn#once upon a time (in space)#arthur#king arthur#arthur the mechs#ashes o'reilly#brian#i'm sure it probably wasn't intended#i understand authors have themes#take it more as a headcanon
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