#mcu thor

[asherashedwings]

This is how the first Avengers went, right?

[fighto-art]

Breaking news: Tumblr user found dead after discovering that she can't marry lady Loki

[forgan-forge]

New Asgard ४ ⚡︎

If marvel won’t make them happy I will!!

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #24

When Danny Fenton got into MIT, he thought the biggest challenge would be balancing ghost hunting with college coursework. What he didn’t expect was to impress Dr. Jane Freaking Foster—renowned astrophysicist, literal genius, the mind behind the Foster Theory, and, unbeknownst to her, his idol since age thirteen—during a campus science expo when he presented his thesis on interdimensional ectoplasmic lattice fluctuations as a potential fuel source for wormhole stabilization. He thought she’d walk by his booth with a polite smile. Instead, she paused, squinted at his equations, asked three rapid-fire questions, then turned to the MIT faculty and said, “Is this kid legally allowed to work in a government lab yet?”

That’s how he became her apprentice.

Danny thought it would be, you know, an internship. Fetch coffee, carry papers, maybe input data if he got lucky. What he didn’t expect was to be living in New Mexico three months later, standing on a roof beside Jane Foster while she casually pointed at the sky and said, “If this gravitational anomaly maintains its trajectory, we’ll have a Yggdrasil branch brush up against the heliopause by Tuesday. That’s new.”

Danny nodded, mostly pretending he understood.

What neither of them anticipated was Thor crashing into their lives again like a golden retriever with a god complex and a hammer. He landed dramatically during a research presentation, lightning still fizzing off his cape, and made such eye contact with Jane that the projector screen behind them shorted out.

And then he saw Danny.

“Young one!” Thor bellowed, eyes wide, blond hair tousled by divine winds, “You must be her son.”

Danny blinked. “I—what?”

“Of course!” Thor clasped his shoulder. “You have her radiant intellect and tenacity. Truly, you are worthy of Midgard’s finest mother.”

“I—she’s not—” Danny tried.

Thor turned to Jane, face alight. “You did not tell me you had borne a child! And one so strong in spirit! A scholar of the stars!”

Jane rubbed her temples. “Thor. He’s nineteen. I met him last month. He’s my apprentice. He is not my son.”

Thor shook his head gravely. “Say no more, Jane. I understand. You wished to protect him from the dangers of our past. But I vow upon Mjolnir’s handle, I shall be a father to him.”

“What the hell,” Danny muttered.

Over the next few days, things escalated fast.

Danny woke up one morning to find a goat outside the lab. A live goat. Wearing a ribbon. The tag read: For my brave son, may his mornings be strong of milk and noble of beard. Jane nearly choked on her cereal. Darcy screamed and immediately named the goat “Spacey.”

Thor showed up during Danny’s lecture on cosmic radiation and brought a sack of Asgardian textbooks written in glowing runes, which promptly caused two lab interns to faint and one professor to file a complaint.

Danny begged Jane to tell him this would stop.

“No,” Jane said, sipping her coffee without looking up. “You’re his emotional support stepson now.”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s emotional support anything!” Danny cried. “I have ectoplasmic trauma and insomnia!”

But Thor persisted.

He invited Danny to spar in the desert, claiming it would “toughen his warrior instincts.” Danny blasted a crater in the sand when a ghost startled him mid-match, and Thor wept with pride. “Such fire! Truly, a son worthy of thunder.”

Jane sighed. “You’re going to give him a complex.”

“I already have a complex!” Danny yelled from where he was half-buried in sand.

Then came the night Thor pulled Danny aside with intense solemnity.

“Daniel,” he said, kneeling, “I seek your blessing.”

Danny froze, halfway through a sandwich. “I—what—blessing for what?”

“To court your mother.”

“She’s NOT my—!”

Thor raised a hand. “Please. I know you wish to protect her. But my heart is true. I have spent long hours learning Midgardian courtship. Observe.”

He pulled out a guitar. A guitar. From nowhere. And began strumming aggressively while singing off-key.

“Oh Jane, fairest in the stars, your eyes burn like a neutron quasaaaaaar—”

Danny screamed into his sandwich.

Jane screamed into her coffee.

Darcy recorded the entire thing.

By the time the Avengers got wind of what was happening, it was too late. Tony Stark showed up purely out of pettiness.

“So this is the ‘son,’ huh?” he said, looking Danny up and down like he was a new model of iPhone. “You do look like Jane. Same ‘don’t talk to me before coffee’ vibe. But with a sprinkle of sleep-deprived raccoon.”

Danny glared. “You must be the one Jane threatens to launch into orbit when she’s annoyed.”

“See? Family resemblance,” Tony muttered.

Then Steve Rogers took Thor aside and whispered, “Are you sure he’s her kid? Jane would’ve told us if she had a child.”

Thor nodded gravely. “It is the only explanation. He speaks with passion, has knowledge of the stars, and I saw him summon green fire from his hands!”

“It was a ghost, Thor,” Danny shouted from across the lab. “It was literally a ghost trying to possess a vending machine!”

“Exactly!” Thor beamed.

“Thor. I’m nineteen. Jane is thirty-seven.”

“She is a goddess among mortals. Perhaps she birthed you when she was five.”

“That’s not how—YOU KNOW WHAT, NEVER MIND.”

Soon, even Loki showed up, slinking into the lab with a smirk like a serpent in silk.

“I had to see for myself,” he purred, circling Danny like a shark. “The mortal child who ensnared my brother’s affections.”

Danny just blinked. “I’m not his kid. Or Jane’s. I’m not even sure I’m awake right now.”

Loki chuckled. “You’ll make an excellent prince. Do you have any interest in necromancy?”

“I’m a ghost half the time,” Danny deadpanned. “Define interest.”

Loki grinned wider.

Eventually, S.H.I.E.L.D. got involved. Fury showed up, took one look at the scene—the goat eating research notes, Thor trying to build Danny a golden throne, Jane yelling about radiation levels, and Danny levitating out of sheer stress—and muttered, “Nope,” before turning around and leaving.

But beneath all the chaos, Danny… didn’t hate it.

Jane never treated him like a kid. She taught him everything, from solar flares to Bifrost trajectories. She let him make mistakes, then helped him fix them. She told him he was brilliant, and for once, he kind of believed it. And Thor, for all his thunderous confusion, brought him starfruit from Alfheim and carved him a wooden Mjolnir as a “coming-of-age” gift.

Danny didn’t even mind the goat anymore.

He still insisted, every day, that Jane was not his mom.

But when Thor presented him with a massive, hand-forged broadsword inscribed with: To my noble son, may your ghosts be vanquished and your GPA ever high, he kind of teared up.

A little.

One evening, as they watched the stars from the roof, Jane handed Danny a cup of tea.

“He really does think you’re my kid,” she said.

Danny took a sip. “Yeah. I gave up trying to convince him.”

“Is it weird?”

“Kinda. But… not bad.” He hesitated. “Do you… mind?”

Jane looked at him, surprised. “No. I mean—you’re not. But if you were, I’d be proud.”

Danny stared at the stars until they blurred.

Later, Thor appeared beside them, cape fluttering dramatically despite the lack of wind.

“I have returned with tales of valor,” he declared, “and also cheesecake.”

Danny took the box.

“Son!” Thor beamed.

Danny sighed.

“Fine. You can have my blessing.”

Thor dropped Mjolnir in joy.

Jane looked horrified. “Danny, what the hell?!”

“I didn’t say I wanted it to happen,” Danny muttered. “I just figured he’d stop bringing me swords if I gave in.”

“He won’t,” she said flatly.

He didn’t.

The next morning, Danny woke up to find a full set of Asgardian armor beside his bed and a note that read: For my beloved heir. P.S. I have begun planning the wedding. Do you think your mother would prefer swans or flaming eels as decoration?

He screamed into his pillow.

The goat screamed with him.

[fla-t-line]

” 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙡𝙡 𝘿𝙄𝙀 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩.

[malpractisnt]

Marvel x text posts I made instead of doing whatever you should be doing after making a house md x text posts post.

[molvrae]

Keeping Up With The Asguardians

I’m sad that Hela didn’t get a beach time skin, so I put together something that I think she would wear.

[redrat-cheesy]

Best avenger‼️

[stargirl720]

People who write Thor as a meat-lover and Loki as a strictly salad guy are fucking cowards. No i will not elaborate

[phospholipid-bilayer]

top 1 favourite tragic siblings <3

song's l'amore dice ciao by armando trovajoli

[mischiefmaker615]

Is this to much to ask!! To be stuck in a world of such.. such.. glorious desire and purpose!!?

[wiener-soldier]

"I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again."

[fighto-art]

Baby brodinsons bear hunting in Asgard featuring Thor unable to beat his codependent relationship with Mjolnir allegations

[themizzenmask]

[ID: Sketch of Thor shirtless with his back facing the viewer and his hands in his hair, showing the tattoos he has in Love and Thunder, except RIP LOKI is crossed out and about it is written I LIVED BITCHES, and Loki is crossed out from the notes, and the broken heart has stitches between the two sides. Wound around Thor’s right arm is a green snake. End ID]

Loki lives (and modified Thor’s tattoo accordingly)

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #5

Time is funny when you’re half-dead, fully annoyed, and accidentally adopted by the Goddess of Death.

Clockwork would say there are no accidents—only inconvenient truths and divine meddling. That’s probably why Danny Fenton, fifteen-year-old ghost boy with a penchant for sarcasm and trauma, had found himself dropped into the Nine Realms like a glowing, confused kitten tossed into a pit of wolves. Except in this case, the wolves wore armor, carried swords, and were burning a village in Odin’s name.

He arrived mid-battle. Because, of course.

Green fire blazed from his hands instinctively, not because he wanted to help some random Asgardian villagers (okay maybe a little), but because he didn’t like bullies and the Einherjar were real assholes. He knocked one out of the sky, punched another through a stone pillar, and then got personally tackled by a blur of black and green.

The Goddess of Death stared at him. He stared back, mildly terrified but also annoyed because she hadn’t brushed her hair in 50 years and still looked better than him. Her crown formed, antlers arching like the jaws of a beast, and she asked, “What in the Yggdrasil are you?”

Danny blinked, wiped blood from his cheek that wasn’t even his, and muttered, “Ghost. Teenager. Lost, I think?”

And Hela—executioner of a thousand realms, general of Asgard’s greatest conquests, secret eldest child of Odin—looked at this scrawny glowing boy with plasma in his veins and something inside her cracked. Maybe it was maternal instinct. Maybe it was madness. Maybe it was because he shot a sarcastic thumbs-up at her after kicking a berserker into a wall.

But she didn’t kill him.

Instead, she took him to her quarters in the Golden Palace, cleaned his wounds with unsettling gentleness, and when Odin came asking, “Where did this strange creature come from?” she looked the All-Father dead in the eye and said, “He’s mine.”

Danny had no idea how this escalated, but suddenly he had a new Asgardian name—Dánjal Helson. It sounded dramatic and ancient and weirdly metal. He hated it. But he didn’t fight her on it. Not when she started teaching him how to channel the dead, how to split his ectoplasmic form into spectral blades, how to walk through the veil between life and death and come back laughing. She was a terrifying mother, but she was his.

And then Odin banished her.

Danny had screamed at Clockwork, demanded answers, but all the time ghost said was, “This was always meant to happen.”

So he did what any teenage ghost king with mommy issues and interdimensional authority would do—he broke into Helheim.

Well. He didn’t really break in. He sort of… floated. Slipped. Ghosted through the borders of the dead and found her throne, jagged and thorny, surrounded by skeletal wolves and screaming winds. She was sitting there, bleeding shadows, eyes dull with millennia of betrayal. And when she looked up and saw him—her boy—she fell to her knees.

He ran to her.

She touched his face like it was a miracle. He said, “Hey Mom,” because apparently sarcasm is how you process godlike trauma.

Years passed. Danny became King of the Infinite Realms. The title came with annoying paperwork, wars against spectral tyrants, and weird tea with the Ghost Council. But he always made time to visit Hela. They trained together. She told him Asgardian legends. He taught her Earth memes. Once, he showed her a vine compilation and she laughed so hard a bridge in Niflheim collapsed.

She taught him to wear a crown with violence.

He taught her to say “yeet.”

Then Odin’s death happened.

Thor and Loki were on their redemption road trip, bonding and yelling and discovering truths. Odin croaked in Norway and, with his last breath, whispered something like “She’s coming. My firstborn. She will bring death.”

Thor assumed it was a warning.

It was, in fact, an invitation.

Because instead of bursting out of Helheim and heading to Asgard for vengeance and chaos, Hela just looked at the hole in the sky and said, “Hold on.”

She turned to Danny, who was floating upside down in his ridiculous green cape and crown of bone-fire, holding a ghost-summoning staff like a bored wizard with ADHD.

“I think I’m free.”

Danny blinked. “Cool. Wanna rule a death dimension with me?”

“Yes.”

And that was how Hela, Goddess of Death, became the terrifying, unhinged, protective Queen Mother of the Infinite Realms. She wore black armor, sharp heels, and lipstick made of shadow. She smiled when ghosts bowed to her and summoned dragons when demons threatened her son.

Danny tried to stop her from vaporizing a ghost that called him “soft,” but she just said, “He insulted my son. I will end him and salt the afterlife with his ectoplasm.”

Meanwhile, Thor and Loki were having several consecutive mental breakdowns.

“She’s supposed to be here!” Thor yelled, pointing at the now empty Helheim portal.

“She’s going to destroy Asgard!” Loki added, pulling at his hair and possibly having a crisis because he found a baby photo of himself and her and now has emotions.

They go to Earth. They go to Sakaar. They go everywhere trying to find Hela.

And then they finally, finally track her down to the Infinite Realms—an interdimensional mess of floating islands, undead bureaucrats, and haunted palace ruins where the sky bleeds green and time doesn’t work properly.

They arrive and find her seated on a throne beside a floating teenager with white hair and eyes like starlight.

The boy yawns. “Oh, hey. I’m Danny. You’re my uncles or whatever, right?”

Hela looks up. “You’re late.”

“Who is he?” Thor demands, pointing at Danny like a confused golden retriever.

“My son,” Hela says proudly, brushing Danny’s hair out of his face. “Dánjal Helson. King of the Infinite Realms. Also, the reason I haven’t erased Asgard from existence.”

Loki nearly faints.

“WHAT?”

Danny, bless his chaotic heart, just shrugs. “Yeah, hi. Ghost king. Time travel shenanigans. Clockwork nonsense. She adopted me during one of Odin’s genocidal field trips. I’m adorable, apparently.”

Thor tries to process this.

Fails.

Loki sits down and mutters something about therapy.

“You were supposed to destroy everything,” Thor says weakly.

“I did, darling,” Hela replies. “I destroyed my need for vengeance. I found something better.”

Danny grins. “Family.”

Suddenly Fenrir bounds in and tackles Danny because the giant wolf is basically his oversized murder-dog. Hela sips a chalice of glowing mist. Loki’s eye twitches. Thor is whispering to Mjolnir for emotional support.

Then the doors burst open.

It’s Skulker, Fright Knight, Ember, Spectra, and a dozen other ghostly rogues arriving for court. They bow before Danny and Hela. One of them screams because Hela smiles.

Danny raises an eyebrow. “Mom, please stop terrifying my council.”

“They like it.”

“I like not having heart attacks.”

Loki is losing it. “I was the adopted one. I was the weird one. Now there’s a ghost boy who’s half-dead, calls the Goddess of Death Mom, rules a dimension of horror, and has diplomatic immunity in the Nine Realms.”

Hela stands.

“Correction. We have diplomatic immunity. And he is my son. Touch him and I will unmake your soul.”

Danny leans against her like the chaos gremlin he is. “Aw. Love you too, Mom.”

Fenrir howls. The sky flickers.

Thor turns to Loki and says, “I think we have a nephew.”

Loki replies, “I think we’re going to die.”

Later, when Surtur rises and Asgard faces its prophesied doom, it’s Danny who appears in front of the fire demon with a floating crown and a sarcastic grin.

“Yo, Surtur. You’re doing a little too much.”

Surtur roars, “Who are you?”

“I’m the Ghost King. And that’s my mom you’re threatening. Back off.”

Hela watches from a floating throne made of bone and cosmic spite. Her son glows brighter than any sun. And for the first time in ten thousand years, the Goddess of Death laughs—truly, freely, joyously.

Because Danny isn’t just her son.

He’s her retribution.

He’s her redemption.

He’s hers.

She will burn the realms to keep him safe.

[steggy-likes-juice-boxes]

I just found out the guy who wrote that Darth Vader and Son children’s book also made a Thor and Loki one, and ya’ll I cannoooooott 💀