#like. I knew Loki had a partner that got killed so I randomly decided to create him

[whump-it-like-its-hot]

TELL ME STUFF ABOUT A RANDOM CHARACTER RN

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

You rolled number…2, so, drumroll,

Knut Bjerke

Oh, where do I even start about him. Technically, he isn’t even alive at the current point in time. However, I will make exceptions to this rule :)

Knut is Agender and doesn’t really mind any pronouns, but usually sticks to He for the sake of simplicity. He’s Ace and also autistic, so basically a Triple A Battery <3

They were Loki’s partner when they were still alive, before they got murdered in cold blood. (Rumors say the incident involved a chicken nugget…)

Knut was most recently training to become a paramedic. He genuinely believes that there’s something good in every person, and does his best to bring that out. However, he also tends to be kind of a doormat. Other than that…he’s extremely allergic to walnuts. And he knows danish and british sign language. In whump, he usually plays a caretaker role, or rarely a whumpee.

[dentelle-grise]

Your Latest Trick

Chapter 15 (Loki x Reader) Long after everyone has stopped talking about Loki and his misdemeanors, his failed attempt to take over Midgard and his punishment, you meet him at a party. A tale in which Loki woos the reader despite life imprisonment, mortal wounding and the cumbersome pretense of impersonating his father. Covering the events of ‘The Dark World’ and beyond Original Prompt: Imagine Loki undressing you slowly, entirely by magic, only touching you with his eyes. All chapters to date at AO3 (39K, NC-17) Tagging: @frenchfrostpudding Chapter 15   A session at the training grounds reveals rivalries old and new.

You manage to help the healers later that morning without being distracted, the events of the night dropping beneath the surface of the day.

The kind of injuries you’re seeing these days are from the work sites or training grounds. It’s a comforting evolution. You know you are doing good by the simple tasks you do and by being there for the patients.  It saves the healers’ time that you do the jobs that don’t need special powers and you wonder if what you do is what healers do in realms without magic.  

They never question what you are doing here, a woman with to healing gifts and such means that she doesn’t need a job — they are just happy that you come. The one time you apologized to Madame Eir for not having any magic, she told you there was no problem, that you had something else.

It’s on your break that Loki finds his way back into your thoughts.  Fantasies were distracting enough, but recent memories, vivid, flawless and unbidden are much more powerful. You kept your mind away from them as you worked, but standing alone in the wash room, the midday sun filtering down on you through a skylight, you think of the light on his skin this very morning and it all comes flooding back — the warmth of affection, all the sense memories of his hands on you and the way his voice deepened when you make love….You feel a flush of heat flood through you and try to push the thoughts away before someone else comes in here. But the burning dies away quickly enough all by itself as doubt rises and fills you instead; Loki said nothing about when he’d return.

It’s a warm afternoon and the training grounds are already full of people by the time you get there.  You can’t see Asta anywhere, despite a promise she made to meet you here. All around, people of all ages train to fight in all manner of ways, wrestling, fencing, kick-fighting, swords, spears, staffs… The dust clings to everyone’s clothes until people start to look alike. So you wander around, hoping to find Asta and trying to decide which discipline to work on.  You want to fill the hours before dusk with something other than waiting and wondering.

Martial arts are not really Asta’s style and you wonder if she’s bottled out.   There are plenty of familiar faces here though. Hogun is giving a demonstration of club-swinging and Volstagg is standing in the wrestling area challenging people to try to knock him down, while a trainer is showing them how to fall safely.

There are people with practice swords and spears in pairs and groups everywhere, the weapons glowing, marking the advantage of one or other opponent.  

“Hey.” A familiar voice calls. It’s not Asta, but Fandral. He clearly just got here because he’s dust free. “You’re looking good,” he says. “I mean it’s good to see you looking better.” And then he grins and it’s a relief. “So, have you come to make a killing.”

You don’t know what to say so you laugh.

“I’m meeting a friend.”

“Ah-ha.”

“No not 'Ah-ha’, we’re going to train” He raises an eyebrow.

“Me to. Actually I’m going to try my hand at knife throwing.”

“Oh?”  

“Well you know me, always hungry for new experiences.” And he winks. “Truth be told its something I need to work on it, and we have to give the example.  And what weapon do you chose?” You can tell he still thinks you’ve come here on the pull. “Tempted by the big stick?” And he nods at the quarterstaff area and you blush. “I’ll be giving a sword demonstration later, don’t miss it. Ciao.”

And he’s gone.

At least there wasn’t a trace of the worry he’s shown in recent weeks and thankfully he didn’t mention Loki. You don’t want him prying, not now.

Fandral had never showed interest in knives in the past, that was Loki’s area of expertise. For one as good with a sword as Fandral, it was easy to neglect other disciplines. Throughout their youth, Fandral excelled at sword fighting while Loki was always behind him.

You remember the time Loki charmed a sword to practice with him on its own. That way he could work on his swordsmanship at all hours with no need to find a partner. Why this was so important you never knew.

The trouble with the enchanted sword was that its skills were only equal to Loki’s, and it was just as unpredictable. He received several nasty gashes before he realized that this wasn’t the answer, but by then the sword had learnt how to do more than fight. Loki tried to undo the spell, but the sword got wise to his plan and went into hiding. It had all his cunning too and an insatiable need to play, so when it went feral, it was almost impossible to control.  It roamed the corridors and grounds of the palace by day and night, jumping out and randomly challenging passersby, whether they be guards, chambermaids or the King himself. Though some warriors saw this as a challenge and tried to hunt the sword down, their quests were fruitless. It was only when it took the entire palace kitchen staff hostage that Frigga stepped in once more and canceled the spell.

Goaded by Fandral you do indeed go to train at stick fighting. You’d forgotten how heavy the staffs were, and how jarring the hitting and blocking was.  The coach matches you with someone of the same size and weight, something you’d be lucky to get in a real fight, but this is for practice, for play, for fun almost… if it wasn’t so hard, if you weren’t watching every second for the blow that might land you in the healing rooms for all the wrong reasons. You know so much more about bodies now, which means you could play dirty if you wanted, but that’s not your way. You win squarely by knocking the staff from your opponent’s hands as she’s changing grip. There’s a rest period just long enough to get your breath back and change partners for another bout. This time the pairing is anything but equal: you’re facing Lady Sif.

She greets you enthusiastically, smiling, confident, deadly, beautiful — she should really leave her hair like that — but you’ve no time for such observations nor smalltalk, you have to block her attacks, which are quick and forceful and remind you of all your weaknesses. You are neither as rapid nor as strong.  You cannot truly fight her at all, only defend yourself. Sif is not Asta, and this is not fun. You’re outmatched and Sif knows it.  Why is she facing you at all?  She doesn’t give you any time to ponder such things, her parries multiply and her blows rain down on your staff.  But even so she is not at full strength, she’s going easy on you.  It’s frustrating being shown your powerlessness like this.  You both have your staffs horizontal now and you field blow after blow. Your only possible advantage is your stamina if you can only resist long enough.

Then she throws all her weight behind one strike, so you do too. But she doesn’t rebound, she just keeps pushing. She’s there in your face, smiling still, baring her teeth, forcing her staff against yours, close enough that you smell her sweat.  It reminds you, that despite her performance she is a still a person and not a fighting machine. It’s no crime to lose against the best, but here it’s not a case of losing, more one of surviving and limiting injury.

She lets go with a sudden “Gah.”

You fall forward and almost miss your footing and she’s quick to swing the staff back into a fencing position.  She could have had you, in a real fight your adversary would have moved in quick for a blow to the head, but Sif waits, holding her staff in position, she wants to continue.  She looks you in the eye, her full concentration on you and you alone.  She nods and the fight continues. You’re tired and you can tell she is too. Now it’s a matter of who makes a mistake first and you don’t have long to wait. She is distracted a moment by something over your shoulder, you don’t look around, you push home your advantage, hitting her staff sideways to loosen her grip, but then she turns back to you and goes all out to finish the bout, no longer holding back, but pushing you back with multiple strokes that set you off balance, Then she slams down her staff just where it will trip you. You tumble, dropping your staff and grabbing fruitlessly at hers.  The fight comes to its inevitable conclusion — you in the dirt with her staff your face her smile above it. You look down at yourself, you’re covered in dirt and sweat, your butt aches where you fell on your tailbone. Then you look up at her once more but she’s looking away over your shoulder.  

“I yield.” you say to get her attention

You could grab her staff by the end and continue the fight, but you’ve nothing more to give. Not only are you no match for her, but she’s lost interest. She helps you up, tells you you’re better than she thought, which is kind of arrogant but doubtless honest. She’s distracted though.  You glance over in the direction she’s looking, toward the sword fighting area.

Many others nearby have also stopped to look, a particular fighting pair are the subject of everyone’s interest. Fandral and… Odin!

“What?”

They have practice swords, which is just as well as they are really going for it, the ‘blades’ clashing together this way and that.

Sif rolls her eyes. “He’s going to get his ass handed to him.” She can only mean Fandral.  She wouldn’t talk that way about the King. For you, the outcome isn’t nearly so sure.

Fandral has always been a joy to watch sword fighting. It’s one of the reasons women flock to him. They like a good show.  But Odin…You have never seen him fight with a sword. Could it be he’s doing the same as Fandral earlier and playing his weak suit deliberately?  That’s a tremendous thing to do — for a King to show weakness before the people — and against Fandral of all fighters…

Perhaps Sif is right, and Odin excels at sword fighting as in many other things. But it would surprise you.  It looks on many levels as though Fandral has the advantage, it’s his weapon of choice whereas Odin doesn’t use usually use a sword. He doesn’t need one, he has Gungrir, which could out do any weapon.  Yet there he is.

With only one eye, Odin’s judgement of distance must be lessened and he is an older man, you would expect him to be slower.  But that is where you are wrong. Odin throws his body around like someone much younger, he dodges, he feints and it’s as though he has not just two eyes but perhaps more. It is only the sword itself that seems to be his handicap. The points he scores on Fandral are mostly because he is so unpredictable.

You can tell from Fandral’s face — they have decided not to wear protective masks, the fools — that he is impressed, it can’t be often someone surprises him.

“He’s teaching him a lesson.” Sif breathes. And you feel fear in her voice. They both defied Odin when they helped Thor.  And though it was for the good in the end, she thinks this may be Odin’s way of showing his supremacy.  Or attempting to… Odin loses a volley of points to Fandral as the latter marks a touch to his chestplate.

There are murmurs and cries from the crowd each time one of them scores a point over the other, but the people carefully do not cheer for either of one of them in particular. You find yourself — ridiculously — afraid for Odin. Afraid he will be humiliated because you don’t doubt that Fandral is the stronger of the two.

You’ve moved closer without noticing yourselves doing it.  The crowd is denser and all are focused on the fight.  Behind the fencing ring, you catch sight of Asta, immaculate right down to her spotless shoes and by her, your mother.

Watching Fandral, you can see, without the slightest pinch of pain all that once attracted you to him and you hear, in the intakes of breath and gasps from beside you, how much Sif is with him. You know she’s not be alone in that admiration. But as for you, you are watching and, yes, even rooting for Odin in this match.  Despite his extra years and experience it is he the underdog.  

Why is he doing this?  You don’t believe its to teach a lesson. You think it’s to encourage the people, to show bravery and be ready to lose face, for Odin will surely lose.

The fighters circle one another, watching, ready for the other to move, it’s a respite. The silence is only broken by Odin’s labored breathing.  Their movements accelerate.  You’ve watched Fandral so many times that you know that he is about to move…right…now.

Seemingly at the same second Odin leans in the opposite direction, looses his balance and actually falls, the crowd gasp, a look if terror crosses Fandral’s features, this was obviously not the move he’d been intending.  Moreover, as he hits the ground, Odin loses his grip on his sword which flies up in the air and Fandral, as would be expected in a true fight steps forward to hold him at his mercy with the tip of his sword. But, with the speed of his fall giving him impetus, Odin rolls. He catches the sword in his other hand, jumps to his feet and with a twisting movement pries Fandral’s weapon out of his hand.

The reversal of roles happens so quickly it’s a shock. The crowd stare silence, hardly believing what they just saw or what they’re seeing;  the King, panting in a manner most unbecoming of a monarch, with Fandral disarmed and confused standing before him.  It takes people a second or two to register and then the cheering starts.  Fandral sheepishly raises both hands in front of him, then kneels and salutes Odin.  Your mother runs forward and raises Odin’s arm in the air and there’s even more cheering.

You put a hand to your face “Mother, No.” you hiss to yourself. “Don’t be so embarrassing.” Sif hears you and smiles, her relief at the bloodless outcome tangible on her face.

The evening is comes bringing with it anticipation and doubt but not Loki. You’d effectively blocked him from your thoughts for a few hours, but now he’s back with a vengeance. You are weary and aching, especially your butt where you fell it, but you stay up, waiting.

When it gets late and Loki still isn’t there you decide to wait in bed. Your muscles ache from the fight and behind it is the echo of this morning, last night - and the night before that. You haven’t had so much exercise in a long time.

You are barely aware and far closer to sleep than any other desire when a familiar shape slides under the sheets behind you, already comfortably warm — because he can do that can’t he. You relax into him and without a word sink into sleep.

Chapter 16

[an-anaemic-pen]

Project Phoenix Chapter 12

The Training

The Manifestation || The Power Play || The Green-Eyed Fly || The Middle of The Night || The Alternative || The Attic || The House || The God of Mischief || The Kill || The Night || The Collar

Summary: Kate’s a normal teenage Midgardian girl; except there’s a Loki in her attic, and now S.H.I.E.L.D.’s after her, and also, she has powers. Apparently, she’s meant to save the world.

She just wanted to finish school and maybe fall in love—at least she’s accomplishing one of those.

Relationships: Gen, F/M (Loki/Original Female Character)

Rating: M (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Underage if you squint bit—nothing occurs while characters are underage, Sexual Content)

Mood: She’s A Superhero, Heaven Anthology

It had begun to rain on the way home, a light sprinkle falling from the pale grey clouds that had coated the sky. You should hope this doesn’t turn into a storm.

Oh? Why is that, Kitten?

Irritation twinged at Kate. Had she not randomly activated magical ice powers that made her nose bleed like something from a television show, she would sass him back. Sadly, she had randomly activated magical ice powers that made her nose bleed like something from a television show, so she held the retort dancing on her tongue.

A certain bird told me you weren’t a huge fan of thunder.

You need to find new conversation partners.

It’s a saying.

I know.

Kate could hear Loki’s laugh in her mind. She struggled to hide a little smile. It was kind of cute, actually. It made Kate feel good to make someone laugh. She decided although she was still very angry with him, that she would accept the God of Lies and what he had done. It wasn’t as though there was much she could do about it now, anyway.

I will not apologize for my rightful emotions, Loki, but I will live with your choices. She said it rather matter-of-factly.

Oh? Am I forgiven?

You never apologized.

I beg your pardon?

Kate struggled not to make a face. In order to be forgiven, you must apologize? You’re a prince, didn’t you have some fancy etiquette class or something growing up?

A class, yes. Following the etiquette learned is a choice, Kitten.

Kate rolled her eyes, resting her head against the window and letting the rumble of the car eventually lull her into a doze. It only lasted about five minutes, since they arrived home shortly thereafter, but it had been enough to keep Loki at bay.

An invisible thread seemed to steer her right to her room with little to no excuse as to her behavior. It wasn’t all that unnormal for her to go right up to her haven after church, anyway.

Loki slunk from her ear into the air, a little green light turning him back into himself once more. He was no longer the familiar Loki, but the strange man with a beard. Kate did not like it.

With the simple wave of his hand, a green wave flew around and encased the walls—even the closet. The magic shimmered and when Kate reached out to touch it, her hand flew through it. “It blocks out any and all sound and protects the walls from possible damage. Should your presence be required by a family member, an illusion will be cast and you will be able to leave.”

“Can anyone else see it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

He let out a little huff of laughter. “Is your reply out of speechlessness or apathy, mortal?”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Neither?”

“Do you find my abilities uninteresting?”

Her face screwed up in confusion. What kinda thought process is that? “No? I just kinda discovered I’ve got powers, so I’m more worried about that at the moment.” She shook her head. He made no sense. “Can you just show me how to not accidentally shoot something at someone?”

He sighed dramatically. “I suppose.” Then, he took a few steps back. “Attempt to hit me.”

“With my fist or ice?”

He gave her a flat look. “Ice.”

“Ice, baby.”

Unamusement painted his face. Kate took a deep breath, narrowing her eyes and staring at him. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

After more than a few moments of slightly-awkward silence of them staring at each other, Kate spoke. “I don’t know what to do.”

He scoffed. “Am I supposed to be surprised?”

She stuck her tongue out at him.

They stared at each other for a few more moments.

“Are you going to ask me what to do?” Loki asked.

Kate gave him a flat look. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Say please.”

“Please?”

“And my title.”

She pursed her lips. “Really?”

“You’re the one who needs help.”

“You’re the one who summoned these ‘untapped power’ for your own purposes.”

Loki laughed, almost looking like he had the audacity to be slightly offended by her words. He raised his brow expectantly.

Kate was in no mood for games. “Can you please tell me what to do, Your Highness?”

His smile was vulpine. “Your success in using proper manners tells me you are teachable. I don’t believe telling you what to do will be at all useful, but teaching you may. Try again.”

Kate’s jaw rolled to the side, and she closed her eyes for a few moments. “Can you please teach me what to do, Your Highness?”

“Very good.”

She raised her lip at him.

He simply tutted and shook his head. “None of that sass will do, young lady. From now on, I will be having none of it.”

“Yeah right.”

Kate felt the collar reappear. “None of it,” Loki repeated.

She sighed. “Fine.”

“You say that as though you have a choice.”

She barely held back a sneer. “What do I do, Your Highness?” The collar zapped her and Kate yipped in surprise.

As he crossed the room, he spoke. “Darling, I know what sarcasm is.”

“That wasn’t sarcastic.” Another zap.

Loki moved behind her, barely brushing against her back, and leaned down. “I also know what lies are. Now, focus your energy.”

Kate took a deep breath. Keep your voice monotone, Kate. You can do this. “How do I do that?” It sounded monotone enough.

“The same way you focus your mind and attempt to block me out. If it is needed, I will siphon some of my power to you.”

Kate’s face screwed up in concentration. Her eyes narrowed and she focused on the wall. Loki quickly whisked his hand and a target appeared on the wall opposite to them. “Try to hit that,” he advised. Kate barely noticed the softness in his voice. Whatever the reason be that it was there, it disappeared when he spoke again. “I’ll be your next target.”

Kate nodded her head. “Why would you need to siphon your power to me?”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Magic is very draining. I do not know the exact logistics of how yours works—it is much different from my own.”

“How?” She tried to call upon some sort of something.

“Firstly, I am Asgardian, and I was trained from a young age with the magic I always knew I had. Yours has been dormant for quite some time. Secondly, you specify in ice, similar to the Jötnar, yet you are fully human.”

“How’d you know that?”

“In past timelines, you were a liaison to Asgard and S.H.I.E.L.D. and often traveled between them. Odin is not fond of letting little Midgardians into the Realm Eternal, but he was convinced as long as you went through far more tests than necessary.”

“Tests?” Loki was distracting her. Or, she was distracting herself, because she kept asking him questions.

“Medical, physical, emotional, etcetera, etcetera. You are fully mortal, yet possess the powers of the average Frost Giant. S.H.I.E.L.D., of course, has seen mutants like yourself before, but Odin was wary.”

Kate attempted a fighting stance to try to keep her concentration. “You think he’ll be as wary this time?”

“You will not be a liaison between Asgard and S.H.I.E.L.D., so it is not something to worry about.”

She nodded. It took Kate a moment to realize nothing was happening, no matter how much she concentrated. Even when Loki’s voice quieted and she glared at the opposite wall, nothing happened.

“Am I doing it right?”

“Only you can know that. Do you feel in sort of power?”

“No.”

“Do you feel at all weakened?”

“No.”

Loki rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. Cold seeped into Kate’s veins.

After a few moments, the chilling power was now coursing through her veins. She could feel it rippling like water and goosebumps formed across her skin.

“Focus. Focus on your anger, or grief, or another strong emotion. They better fuel your power than nothing. Concentrate on that feeling, and will it to become something physical.”

Kate focused on her anxiety. It was ever-present, mulling in the shadows and waiting to get her in a moment of calm. Except, she couldn’t call upon her anxiety, that wasn’t how it worked. She blinked, eyes trailing to the floor in thought.

“Concentrate.”

She took a deep breath. Anger would have to do—anger at her anxiety, for taking over so much of her life and haunting her every second of every day.

“Don’t forget to breathe. Focus on the emotion, then let it go in a physical form.”

Kate closed her eyes. “Focus. Breathe. Release.” She repeated it in her head. The cold was still rippling through her from head to toe. She felt it growing more restless, like a boat on the water when the winds picked up.

At first, she wasn’t sure where it came from. The cold seemed to burst straight through her breastbone and out of her skin. Then, when she looked at her hands, she saw the frost crystals growing on her palms. They spread across her body like an infection. Kate wondered why she felt them crawling and tickling like a caterpillar, but not the freezing temperature, or why her body heat wasn’t freezing them.

Kate willed it to cease, willed it to focus at her palms, and it did. The cold rushed down her nerves and grew like a spike, shooting out of her palms and through the target’s lower half to land, half protruding from her wall, like a dart.

A smile crept across her face, and she looked up at Loki. “I did it!”

He almost looked proud as he removed his grasp from her shoulder. “Yes, you did. Were I not pouring energy into you, I’m almost certain you would have passed out and missed the target.”

Now that his hand was gone, Kate felt the power fading. The goosebumps were going away, and she could feel the heat springing from her heart and warming again. The feeling was to a point that bordered discomfort. She felt dizzy from the blood rush.

“Why would I’ve passed out?” The blood rush wasn’t going away, so she sat down on her bed.

“You are not adjusted to your abilities, and even a single attack takes quite a bit of energy. I suggest you do what is known as ‘carboloading’ before we train to prevent that.”

“Will that always happen?”

Loki shook his head. “You saw it yourself in my memories. Once you settle into your powers, it will be easier. Exercising more often will help, as well.”

Kate groaned. “I hate exercise.” There was a little zap in her neck, weaker than the more recent shocks.

“Then you will be at a baseline of powerlessness. You can’t even call upon your power without my help.”

She pursed her lips. Why does he have to be right?

“Because I’m above you in all ways.” He walked over to the wall, removing the icicle and repairing the surface with ease. “I must be returning to Asgard. I highly suggest you rest.”

Kate felt the collar disappear. “Ok… bye, I guess.”

He let out a little huff of laughter. “Goodbye, Katherine.” When he took a step, he disappeared.