#the same loki who refuses to say he's ''reformed'' or ''better than he used to be'' because he's ''always been like this''

[wheredafandomat]

Blood Lust

Written by @wheredafandomat and @simplyholl 🖤

Welcome to Whore-O-Ween everyone!!

Summary: You're sent to live with Father Laufeyson who is known for his work with wayward young ladies. But all is not as it seems.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Blasphemy. Loki going down on you while you're bleeding. Loss of virginity. Masturbation. Voyeurism.

W/C: 3K

Part of the Whore-O-Ween Spooktacular

The glow of the candlelight flickered. You stood to place another log on the fire. You were locked in your room for the third time this week. Since you had come of age, the young men of the village had taken notice of you.

Now you were twenty years old, and your family was desperate to marry you off. But you had gained a reputation among the village. You were to marry the innkeeper’s son, Jonathon. But his family broke the engagement once word got to them.

You had been seen with two men alone. This was all so silly. You had never even been kissed. You were saving everything for your husband, like any devout girl would.

Your father walked in, taking the wood from you, and placing it on the dying flames. “Daughter, you know there has been talk of your sins around the village. I cannot wed you to any of the young men. Even old Mr. Smith wouldn’t accept my offer for your hand.”

Your breakfast threatened to come back up at the mention of him. He was a strange, bald man who lived a few houses down. His wife had died of influenza years ago, and he never remarried.

“Harvey told me about a priest who takes in young girls who find themselves in trouble. He will pray over you and reform you until you are ready to come home. He lives two towns over. His name is Father Laufeyson. I sent him a letter asking him to take you. His reply came this morning, and he agreed. Pack your belongings. We will make the journey when the sun rises tomorrow.”

When you arrive, you notice Father Laufeyson’s house looks more like a castle from your storybooks than the cottages you were used to. That’s probably why it was tucked away far into the woods, away from the other houses.

Two people stood outside the large house waiting for you. One was Father Laufeyson. The first thing you notice is how handsome he is. You blush, God forgive me for thinking inappropriately, especially about a man of the cloth you silently pray.

The other was a tall brunette woman. She appeared to be a few years older than you. She beamed, walking toward you. She pulls you in for a hug, “I’m Esther.” You introduce yourself, returning the hug. She takes your hand, leading you into your new home.

That night at dinner, the three of you talked like old friends. You were starving, you notice Father Laufeyson doesn’t eat much. He just sips his red wine, listening to you and Esther chatter.

The following morning you change into your best church dress, meeting him and Esther downstairs. You and Esther take a seat in the front of the church. You look at the congregation, taking note that it’s mostly women. How unusual you thought.

Where were their husbands, brothers, and fathers? You shrug it off. Church was the only place a lady could go without the company of a man. You carefully watch Father Laufeyson as he begins the service.

There was something off about him, but you couldn’t place it. It could be that you were attracted to him. That had to be it. The priest in your village was old when you were born. You just weren’t used to priests being this young. After church, he took you and Esther on a picnic for lunch. You two ate the delicious sandwiches he prepared, but he refused saying he wasn’t hungry.

You had free reign of the house except for Father Laufeyson’s room. All three of you had rooms on the same floor. Yours and Esther’s were beside each other, making it easy for late night talks. His was down the hall.

It had been four weeks since you first arrived. You liked it better with each passing day. You could take walks along the property. You could read all day, if you liked. He had quite the extensive library.

You wake up in the middle of the night when you hear Esther cry out. You leave your room, candle in hand walking toward the noise. You stop at Father Laufeyson’s room. The door is ajar just enough to peek inside. You see Esther against the wall, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs wrapped around his waist. He thrusts up into her. You gasp, covering your mouth when he looks toward the door.

You know you should leave, but you stay glued to your spot, never taking your innocent eyes off of them. Esther moans when his hand moves between them under her dress. He gathers her hair off her neck, pale face leaning down toward her.

The candlelight in his room shines on his face, putting a spotlight on his long fangs sinking into the side of her neck. He feeds on her slowly as she slumps in his arms. You press your hand harder to your mouth to stifle your cries. Tears streak down your face as you run back to your room.

You had heard about vampires before. Your village and the surrounding ones were once overrun with them. The pale beasts were all destroyed. But here you are living with one who disguised himself as a man of God.

You keep replaying what you saw over and over. He bit Esther, but she seemed to be enjoying it. You feel an unfamiliar ache between your legs from thinking about it. You run your hand up your thigh to your core. You were most likely going to die by the hands of the handsome vampire. You might as well experience a little pleasure before you do. You would beg for God’s forgiveness later. Your fingers swipe through your untouched folds, taking the slick arousal to your clit.

You move clumsily, hesitating at first. Then you imagine Father Laufeyson holding you against that wall, his teeth on your neck. You shake as your very first orgasm hits you. The following morning, it’s just you and the fake priest. “Father, where is Esther? Is she unwell?” You ask him, studying his face for a change in demeanor.

“She’s well. Her family came back for her before daylight. She went to your room to tell you goodbye, but you were sleeping so soundly, she didn’t want to wake you.” You put on your best fake smile. Esther was dead, and the beast before you killed her. You tried to avoid him as much as possible in the following days.

But you had to dine with him, even if he didn’t eat. You still had to attend church with him. Other than that, you stayed hidden in your room. You were terrified of him, but that didn’t stop you from fantasizing about him. You spent your nights with your hand under your nightgown or humping your pillow thinking of him.

It was shameful, but you couldn’t stop. You felt so guilty after making yourself cum twice in one night, you got down on your knees, praying for forgiveness, begging for it. That night, you dreamt that you drove a stake through his heart, ending this misery. You took it as a sign from God. This is what you were meant to do.

Father Laufeyson took you into town. You waited until he went into the store, and you walked to the woodworker’s shop. You commissioned an oak stake. They looked at you like you had lost your mind. They told you the last of the vampires had been destroyed long ago. But the coins Laufeyson gave you put food on the table for their families.

You had to wait three long weeks before he took you into town again. When you got the chance, you went to retrieve the weapon. That night, you decided it was time. You couldn’t live with him anymore, not after knowing what he is. You had to fulfill your purpose. You knew he was at the church preparing his sermon for the next morning. You ran the whole way there, heart racing.

You stepped inside cautiously, trying to ignore the chill of the air telling you to turn back around, to run away. But you couldn’t. Your feet carried you forward, surprisingly confident, unlike yourself. Confidence, that’s what you needed, what you tried to embody, that was your protection against the pale beast.

You flinched as a jolt of lightning shone through the church, lighting everything in a quick spark of chrome before you were in darkness again, except for a few candles. You knew you had to act as if nothing was wrong, as if you didn’t know. Survival was only guaranteed that way.

“Y/N.” You took a deep breath hearing your name fall from his lips in a honeyed utterance. “Father.” You greeted him, the faux priest, as you stepped towards him. “Come, child.” He gestured to the organ, prompting you to follow him. “Sit.” You fought to keep your breathing steady as you approached him, biting your lip to stop it from trembling as you observed him.

You were told that his kind would perish in a place like this, that they would burn. But here he was making a mockery of God, wearing an idle collar and parading around untouchable. But not after tonight. Many times, you had shared this seat with him, ignoring the cold that his presence brought, ignoring the call to sin when he looked at you, emerald green eyes boring into yours.

Tonight was different, you couldn’t relax. “What ails you?” He questioned, lifting his hand and stroking a key with one of his dexterous fingers. “I believe I may have found my calling.” You answered, taking a deep breath as you raised one of your fingers onto the keys. “Your calling” He repeated almost questioningly. “Other than to serve your god?” My God?” “God.” He corrected. “Yes, I believe he has asked me to serve Him in another way.” You continued, both of you gently playing a familiar tune.

“Pray tell, what is this other way? What is this newfound calling?” “I must protect this Earth.” You stated, using your free hand to clutch the weapon in your pocket. “From what?” He questioned, turning to look at you with a small smirk. “From me?” “What?” You gasped, trying to keep your breaths even. “Do you really think a piece of oak would be enough to stop me?” He snickered.

“I mean honestly” He continued, leaning towards you, his mouth dangerously close to your neck as you froze. “You underestimate me.” He noted coyly, reaching around you, grabbing the cross stake from your other hand. “No!” You cry, still frozen in fear as he threw it across the room. “On the contrary, I do believe you have another calling.” He stated, standing before stepping behind you.

“A more carnal one.” He continued; his voice sharp in your ear as he leaned over you. “I mean you serve a man no more virtuous than yourself” He paused as you gasped. “I’ve read the books.” He cut you off. “You serve a man no more virtuous than yourself, yet you reap no rewards.”

“I will be rewarded with an eternity in His kingdom.” You spat. “How about a night in mine?” He smirked against your ear, causing you to spin around. “You’d never admit it, but you’ve sinned more than me.” “Don’t you dare say that!” “You think I don’t know you touch yourself thinking about me, yearning for me, even after you found out exactly who I am, what I am?”

“S-stop.” You stuttered. “Grinding against your pillow, moaning my name. Oh! It’s music to my ears.” He cheered. “I’m offering you a night of sin, a night with me.” He proclaimed. “I won’t judge you. I welcome your debauchery. I’ll cherish your moans. I’ll reward your praise.” “St-stop it.” You continued to stutter, clenching your thighs together.

“Burn with me, Y/N, just for tonight.” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his lips brushing against yours as you close your eyes. “I’ve never been touched.” You emitted nervously; eyes still closed. “I know, but you want to be. It’s what you have spent so long desiring.” He spoke against your lips, one of his hands ghosting down your body as your breath hitched.

He didn’t have to push your legs apart; they were already gapped from your quick spin around. You inhaled sharply as you felt him cup your sex, eyes opening to find him staring into yours. “Is this where you touch yourself when you think about me?” He smirked, his hand moving up and down, massaging against your clothed heat.

“Rubbing yourself, imagining me, my hand, my body until you reach there, that sweet release.” He almost cooed, his hand more pressured now. You tried to stave away the temptation of bucking your hips into his touch, but it was hard. It felt too good. You wanted more. You needed more. You needed him to do what he did to Esther. “Tell me what you desire, and I’ll do it.” “Take it.” You answered almost breathlessly. “It?”

“My purity, take it.” “That’s my girl.” He purred in your ear again, before his free hand gripped your chin, pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue pushed passed yours, exploring your mouth. His other hand was still between your legs, your hips thrusting into his touch.

Now that his lips were properly on yours, you realized how cold they were, how gelid. Your hands reached upwards, cupping his cheeks which were no warmer than his lips. You tried to stay silent, but you couldn’t, not when you felt his hand slipping underneath your skirt, fingers smoothing over the cloth material of your panties.

“Father!” You gasped as two of his fingers pushed your underwear to the side, meeting your clit. “Loki.” He corrected. “Loki” you moaned, eyes closing as he drew languid circles over your clit. “You virgins are so receptive.” He sniggered. “You’re already so wet for me.” His name fell from your lips again as he continued his movements, his fingers growing slick from your arousal. Lost in the pleasure, you almost didn’t realize that his fingers were venturing lower down your center.

Your eyes flew open, feeling him enter you slowly. “L-Loki” You stuttered feeling full. “Do you like that?” He asked, leisurely pumping his fingers in and out of you. “Yesss” You hum in response, drowning in the sensation. You felt overwhelmed, you were wetter than you’ve ever been.

Small moans escaped you as Loki continued thrusting his fingers inside of you. A metallic scent evaded your nose. As if he could smell it too, Loki stopped his movements causing you to open your eyes, only for them to round in surprise at the sight of his fingers. They were practically glistening crimson. You barely had time to react before Loki was bringing them to his lips, licking off the blood.

“What’s happening?” You panicked, despite not being in any pain. “It’s normal.” Loki answered, releasing his index finger with a pop. The remembrance of what he was overcame you as a blanket of guilt shrouded you. You didn’t feel good anymore. Before Loki could continue, you began closing your legs wanting to leave. You wanted to forget about all of this, but instead you yelped, feeling him grab one of your legs and pushing them further apart as he got to his knees. He slid your panties off your legs, discarding them on the floor.

“One can’t prepare a feast and expect others not to dine.” He spoke cryptically before you felt his cold, wet tongue against your core lapping up the blood dripping from you. Your hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly as he entered you with his tongue, washing any hesitation away. You couldn’t help but scream in pleasure at the feeling of his nose rubbing your clit as he feasted on you.

“Delicious.” He spoke against you as you shamelessly ground your hips against his face. You were overcome with delectation despite the fact that this was more than just a carnal encounter. “I need you, Loki.” You finally implored, interrupting Loki’s banquet. Glancing up at you, he lifted his head from between your legs, licking his lips clean as he lowered your leg. His hand found yours as he prompted you to join him on the floor.

You did so, wordlessly straddling him like you imagined so many nights alone with your pillow. He felt good underneath you, like it was where he belonged. Your bare sex rubbed against his clothes as you readjusted yourself, Loki looking up into your eyes. “Is this how you want me to take you?” He spoke, breaking the silence. “Yes.” You replied, trying to quell your nervousness. Loki didn’t talk as he unsheathed himself before guiding you above his manhood.

He watched your expression as he thrusted up into you, his hands on your hips pushing you down against him. You couldn’t help your moans as he filled you, burying himself inside you. You move your hips against his, living out your fantasy. You found yourself growing closer to the end, to your release, to his demise. He was obviously moving slower for you, you had watched him move a lot faster for Esther, and for that you’d make sure you were as quick as you could be.

Leaning down against him, your lips almost brushed his again as you reached out, your fingers wrapping around the discarded stake. Loki was right, it was oak. Well, most of it. What he didn’t know was that the tip was willow, lethal. “You feel so good, so pure.” Loki groaned from beneath you, gripping your hips tightly as you sat back up.

His eyes were closed, that’s how he didn’t see it, how he didn’t know he was in danger. You continued grinding your hips against his, your clit rubbing against his pelvis as you neared your climax. Walls tightly gripping Loki’s length, you raise your hand before plunging the stake into his chest.

Loki’s eyes flew open, the betrayal evident on his features as his life slipped away. You felt powerful, immensely so, as you took his life, draining him, milking him. You moaned as your climax shook you. This was it; this was your calling.

Tags 🖤

@lokischambermaid @gruftiela @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @itsybitchylittlewitchy @wolfsmom1 @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @buttercupcookies-blog @lokisgoodgirl @donaweasley @muddyorbsblr @litaloni @lovingchoices14 @mochie85 @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @glitchquake @goblingirlsarah @multifandom-worlds @kats72 @eleniblue @mischief2sarawr @anukulee @joyful-enchantress @fictive-sl0th @marygoddessofmischief @lulubelle814 @evelyn-rathmore @lokiestorch @ladymischief11 @valarieravenhearst1 @cakesandtom @monkey0105 @dj-murasaki @ririsutty73 @cindylynn @violethaze @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed

[worstloki]

Part 1

--[official naming and legal rights ceremony for Morgan]--

Tony: you know what would be really funny? Pepper: Tony... Tony: THINK about it Pep- how can you say no to this once in a lifetime opportunity? Pepper: Rhodey and Steve. We already decided. Tony: ok fine. FINE! I'll just give up the chance for our daughter to have two literal powerhouses watching over her Pepper: one of them isn't even alive! Tony, signing the paperwork: he was the dodgy one anyways! Pepper: oh g*d tell me you didn't Tony: too late. our daughter's got 1 thunderer and 1 deceased trickster listed as her ~*godparents*~ and no punishment you come up with will ruin this moment for me Pepper: its fine, this is fine, it wont even be legally binding since you can't have two male godparents listed so its invalid anyways, haha this is fine, everything is fine,,, Tony: i actually heard from Thor that Loki could be female if they wanted... Pepper: ... Pepper: TONY!! -- [later] -- Rhodey: dude did you seriously put LOKI down as a legal guardian for your kid instead of me Tony: well I wanted Thor but he insisted that I put Loki down too... something about honouring Asgardian tradition...? Rhodey: tradition is fine but isn't he DEAD? Tony: sure Thor thought he was dead 5 years ago, then again 4 years ago, and then again 2 years ago... but if he was alive he would have already, statistically speaking, shown up by now Rhodey shaking his head fondly: okay i forgive you for replacing me with Thor and his deceased brother, but the next kid has my name on it. I've already called dibs with no takebacks, okay? Tony: one kid is already keeping me busy enough, honeybear... 

---[3 years later]---

Tony: And. I. Am. Iron Man... *snaps* Thanos' army: *disintegrates* Tony: *taking his last breathes* Pepper: you can rest now... Loki: *shoves Pepper aside and pulls the gauntlet off Tony* Pepper and Rhodey and Peter who were standing around tony: LOKI ?!? Dr Strange: no SToP you cant juST do THAT- Loki, taking out the time stone: why not Dr Strange: if you change anything now it'll ruin the timelines!!! Loki, reversing time on Tony and bringing him back to life: that's not how time works, Dr. Supreme Dr Strange: It’s Strange, and- Loki: Yes, I agree, it is strange that you decided to let Earth's best hero die when literally every infinity stone is rigHT HERE Dr Strange: but its wrong to misuse their pow- Loki: Then it’s a good thing I'm evil and don't care Dr Strange: buT- Loki: no need to worry, I'm only helping you heroes out this one time because apparently while I was stardust Tony chose to give me partial ownership over his child so now i am bound to care for it  Pepper, remembering that Loki is legally Morgan’s godparent: oh my g*d   Rhodey: well, I bet Tony didn't expect this Tony, speaking in his sleep: frickity frackity Loki, looking at Tony disapprovingly: I agree.  --[a week later]-- Tony: okay, so like, i don't want to seem ungrateful for you saving my life, but i only wrote your name down to get Thor - Loki, annoyed: Yes I figured as much Tony: -yes but if you've saved my life I was wondering exactly how bound you are to help and how far you're willing to go to watch over her Loki: does this have anything to do with the 18+ end-of-the-world-celebration party at the end of the week? Tony: maybe Loki: *stares at him* Tony: ...okay, yES… do you think you could make sure Morgan is alive and well and safe while I go? It’s clear you don't appreciate being forced to be her godparent so if you do it I'll even get your name off the legal documentation by the end of the week and you can leave after Loki: If you so much as try to remove my name when it is THOR that has been neglectful of his duty and has been ignoring the implications of having a child under their name then I will have no choice but to hit you over the head with stormbreaker Tony: oh. okay. no name removing then that's cool i guess just please don't smite me or i'll dob to thor that you're going to try touching his shiny axe and have are regressing on your journey to goodness  Loki, pulling stormbreaker out of his pocket dimension: I’m afraid you’re too late to warn him about the potential theft of his favourite beer opener. I will, however, watch Morgan over both days of the party, IF I also get put in charge of the spider child and Wakanda's princess Tony, doing his best to ignore the huge axe: how do you even know about them, weren't you snapped for the past 5 years?? Loki: I understand that they're not allowed to attend the party either and will not have any parents or guardians available to care for them at the time... Tony: you're not going to try any funny business right...? even if you wont hurt Morgan how do i know you wont lay a hand on the others?? I cant just trust you to watch over a bunch of kids no matter how much bruce and thor vouch for your sanity Loki: you can trust I wouldn't risk scarring Morgan like that if you don't trust i wouldn't intentionally attack a bunch of literal children Tony: hmm okay I guess I’ll just cross my fingers and hope you don't relapse into villainy  Loki: wonderful. inform the children that I will pick them up 2 hours before the time of the party. Tony: need me to get you a ride? Peter lives close but Shuri lives just a tad bit out of walking range Loki: no thanks I'll be fine

---[at the party]---

Pepper: YOU LEFT HIM ALONE TO CARE FOR MORGAN?! Tony: he’s been doing a fine job of it while we’re around, and besides, it’s not like I left her with him alone or anything! Pepper: No, of course not Tony, that would be too simple, no, you left LOKI in charge of not JUST our child but also Peter, and the PRINCESS of Wakanda too Pepper: do you have any idea how badly this could work out?! putting aside the political disaster that would occur if something happened to Shuri the ethical considerations alone make strangling you very tempting right now Rhodey: Pepper, Tony would never do anything to put Morgan or Peter or even Shuri in danger... he knows they're kids, right Tony? Tony: Peter can benchpress a mag-lev and Shuri can design one in 60 seconds flat. I’m not concerned because they'll be fine even if he does try to pull off anything even 2% evil! Pepper: *not impressed* Tony: some sort of Asgardian binding magic was involved so he literally cant try to inflict any harm on Morgan, and that includes emotional distress just for the record, believe me, i checked Rhodey: what do you mean 'i checked', what did you do man Tony: Morgan wanted ice pops the other day so i told her to ask Loki Pepper: TONY he's a WAR CRIMINAL Tony: so anyways Morgan went up to the ally we’re kindly hosting - who literally takes residence on whichever couch is closest to Morgan by the way and it’s super funny to watch him move between couches every time she leaves the room - and he's reading when she asks if he'll get an ice pop with her Tony: and I've tried talking to him when he's reading and it does NOT end well Pepper: and you sent MORGAN to do it anyways?? Tony: and he said no at first, which was predictable, right? but then Morgan got sad and a bit teary-eyed and she asked again and when he saw she was sad he literally jolted in pain and he put the book aside and got up so fast to immediately lead her to the freezer to get some  Rhodey: so, what? he physically cant say no to Morgan or some wacky voodoo thing compels him? Tony: That is the conclusion I have come to with my findings, yes. It seems he can’t intentionally do anything to hurt her in any way. So Morgan and her new friends are completely safe, sweetie. Pepper: I'm leaving to make sure she's doing okay... Tony: I also installed cameras just to make sure no one gets murdered without thorough evidence to convict him, if that helps? Pepper: If you can get the live feed to go to my phone I'll consider staying Tony: deal.

--meanwhile, in Tony's house--

[Peter Shuri Morgan and Loki are wrapped up in blankets and watching The Hobbit. Loki is doing some paperwork and Morgan is drinking orange juice while Peter and Shuri share some popcorn] Peter: so are we going to talk about how we're watching a movie with the person who attacked New York with an alien army a few years ago or not Shuri: he was not acting of his own volition so i thought we were excusing that Loki, looking up: you are literally the first person to have mentioned that Peter: but Mr. Stark said that-- Shuri: footage of the 2012 attack conclusively showed that his eye colour changed before and after he had been subdued the final time, which was a phenomenon associated only with being under the influence of the sceptre containing the mind stone  Peter: he does magic though! it could be a trick or the cameras could've been too grainy to tell Shuri: They weren't. But the changes in his behaviour and speech patterns also indicate that he was being controlled or at least coerced to some extent. He's also sitting next to us doing paperwork and watching Bilbo sneak around a dragon. Loki: Congratulations, you are officially the only person from this planet for whom I can confidently vouch is not a- *covers Morgan’s ears* -complete imbecile. Shuri: Thank you. Peter: well, she is a genius Shuri: Yes I am, in fact I'm a genius that has the approval of Loki, which is even better, because I'm assuming he'll have some neat ideas on how to make a fool of T'Challa in my lab on camera more often Loki: I may have some experience in the making-a-fool-out-of-my-brother department Shuri: wonderful! we can brainstorm after the movie :) Peter: I don't have a brother to prank :( Loki: I can fix that Peter: ...what Shuri: yeah, what?? Loki: oh I meant that if you wanted I could legally become your godparent and then you'd have Harley and Morgan as prankable siblings Peter: you know what? I'm actually considering it Shuri: how angry do you think T'challa would be if I made Loki an official Wakandan by saying he's my godfather because I think that would get a hilarious reaction out of him Loki, nodding: According to Asgardian tradition claiming a godchild forms an irrevocable bond and he would have to accept that his sister has someone who pulls off legendary pranks keeping her safe from any attempts at his retaliation Peter: that’s so cool and i'm definitely accepting your offer Shuri: and I'm joining in because i have a folder filled with evidence that Loki was mostly innocent of the New York attack but some videos of us together pulling off harmless pranks would make fine contributions to it Loki: wonderful! Loki, holding out documents and a pen: just sign here, there, and there, Peter: wait you've been sitting next to us filling out godchild adoption forms this whole time??? Loki: well actually I started out filling out the godparent-removal forms because Thor is an irresponsible buffoon and i refuse to share custody with him Peter: do you think i could get ~*Thor*~ to adopt me- Loki: Nopity nope. Too late. You've already signed the forms so you're stuck with me, and I refuse to share any of my friends with him Peter: aww you called us your friends Loki: you have no proof i said that Shuri, pointing to the camera in the corner of the room: but that hackable camera does >:) [peter jumps over the sofa and is going to retrieve the camera for shuri to get the blackmail material when he gets hit by a pillow. shuri says 'hey that was not nice' as she hits loki with her pillow. peter throws the pillow he has at loki. morgan yells 'PILLOW FIGHT!!' before joining in, and by the time they settle down again all of them have missed the ending of the film and have to rewatch the last 20 minutes before drifting off to sleep together on the floor in a patchwork of all their blankets]

---[later at the party]---

Tony: sorry pal, I'm a certified genius and even I don't know how she managed to carry around and slip Morgan’s papers to you when that dress has no pockets and her purse is barely large enough to fit a small-to-medium-sized wrench Rhodey: it was probably the same way she switched your drink for Thor's godchild renouncement forms when you weren't looking Tony, whispering: I think she has CEO paperwork powers Rhodey whispering back: you're only noticing now?

[pepper and tony get home the next day]

Pepper: i still cant believe you left Loki near the kids Tony: and i still cant believe you didn't know how to check the live feed and decided to ignore me the entire night instead of bothering to ask. clearly deep down you trusted my judgement and the decision to leave the kids in Loki's capable, mischiefy, slightly-insane but apparently reformed hands.

[yelling is heard from the living room and Tony and Pepper run in to find Loki Peter Shuri and Morgan sitting around wrapped in blankets and playing Mario Kart and exclaiming their thoughts very vocally. when they are noticed all the kids freeze and stare at Tony. Loki mumbles something about telling Tony he lost the bet since he did in fact manage to keep everyone alive and at that point even Pepper is staring (glaring) at Tony.]

Tony, realising the kids have bonded™: oh no. what have i done.

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 3/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality.“

—

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut!

——

On a technical standpoint, rain doesn’t bother Akechi.

Whenever it rains, no matter if it was just a drizzle or a downpour, people scramble to the nearest overhang, praying that they don’t get drenched. Such a trivial thing to get panicked by, he thought. City rain like this was hardly something to fear, yet it remains a constant in societal culture—water starts falling from the sky and people stop whatever they’re doing to duck for cover.

And since Akechi had long since accepted to reform himself into the mold of society rather than the other way around, here he was, in the middle of Kichijoji, shoulders pressed back against the building of Darts & Billboards, waiting for the rain to tire itself out.

Out of all the habits he’s practiced and perfected from his days of deceit, it’s strange that hiding out from rainfall is one of the few that he still can’t shake, inconsequential as it was. He had learned that mimicking what can be considered societal norms and exercised it in everyday life can at least trick most people that he, Akechi Goro, can be lumped in with the norms and be heightened to excellence later on. People hid from droplets and because the path of normalcy is what he wanted, he decided that he’ll hide with them.

It took him a long time to narrow down why it bothered him. Why, for some reason, it had pissed him off that idiots would commit to such an insignificant action. It’s because when people run for cover, when they prioritize the act of hiding over everything else, they’re essentially allowing the rain—this overall harmless entity—to prevent them from reaching their destination. Fools let their decisions be dictated by the weather, wasting their time waiting it out, letting themselves be dictated beyond their control.

It’s a product of the collective unconscious; rather than pushing past the drizzle to reach their destination, or continue living their life as it were before the storm clouds rolled in, the masses decided that the better decision was to cease all movements because it would be easier. When it rains, society comes at a standstill.

“D’you always just stand in the middle of the promenade lookin’ pissed, or am I just lucky?”

Akechi blinks and turns his head to see a patch of bright, blond hair with an even brighter grin. His purple hood was pulled up, but it’s too short that it does little to block out the downpour.

Sakamoto Ryuji stands in front of him, completely drenched and unbothered.

“I’d hardly call it luck, so much as a coincidence.” Flicking his eyes downward, Ryuji adjusts the heavy looking plastic bags hanging off of his wrists. “And you?”

“Doing some grocery shopping for my ma. She’s been real busy at work, so…” he shrugs.

It really was a strange coincidence that he shows up like this, unprompted. The universe, if it ever was sentient, had never thrown him a bone. However, for Ryuji to show up, it almost seems like a waste to let it go.

If he’s been wanting to see Sakamoto up close, this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“How do you feel about joining me in some people-watching?” Akechi asks.

Ryuji’s eyes light up. “Sure! These bags are getting heavy anyway, could use a break.” He dodges a stream of water flowing cleanly from the gutter and joins Akechi underneath the overhang. Whether he can sense Akechi’s discomfort or perhaps it’s a feeling residing from the real reality, Ryuji had kept a gap of about a meter between the two.

“I hope I didn’t take you away from any pressing matters, Sakamoto.”

“Nah,” he gently sets down his bags before turning to give Akechi his full attention. “Don’t got much waiting for me back home with my ma at work, but can’t stay for too long,” he nods his head down to his bags. “She’d kick my ass if I let the milk go bad.”

Ryuji laughs, shoulders shaking. “But y’know, I see you hangin’ with ‘Kira sometimes, and any friend of that bastard is a friend of mine. And, uh, speaking of…” With an expression of guilt and reluctance so tremulous that Akechi can only compare it to a child getting caught with their hand in a cookie jar. “That’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Yes, technically he’s an unforgivable hypocrite for advising Sumire against speaking to Ryuji, but that won’t stop him from getting the information he needs. (It never has.)

After all, there must be something special about Sakamoto in order to have Kurusu Akira wrapped around his finger.

“Oh?” he responds.

“Yeah, it, uh, might be a bit awkward so I’ll do my best to be straight about it,” Ryuji looks embarrassed, but determined. “I know the feeling of not wanting to say something, to have it weigh you down and shit. Basically, what I’m tryna say is: you don’t just gotta rely on Akira!”

Akechi’s eyes widen. It should’ve been impossible. How did he figure out about Akira and the other reality when he hasn’t even been snapped out of it—

“You looked super stressed back in New Year’s and I get that you’d rather talk to Akira, but he’s a busy guy. And I know we aren’t close, but if you want to vent, or just, I dunno, get some ramen together?” he shrugs and throws a smile in Akechi’s direction. “I’m here for you.”

Akechi’s face is carefully blank. He’s wrong, because of course Sakamoto didn’t figure it out. (Has he ever figured anything out?)

He had done extensive research on the Thieves the second he got a whiff of who they might be, and that was especially the case for the initial members of the group. Sakamoto Ryuji, a second-year in the now infamous Shujin Academy. Formerly the star of the track team, his leg was snapped beyond repair by Kamoshida, the Thieves’ initial target. While he had always possessed a temper, it had grown exponentially when the teacher had faced no charges and he was shunned by the rest of the school. It’s like the Boy Who Cried Wolf—except there had undoubtedly been a wolf, and the boy ended up with a lifetime’s worth of permanent damage.

At first, he had chalked up Ryuji’s temper as yet another weakness—Akechi had learned firsthand just how fast the hand of authority strikes if one were to place a toe out of line. It’s how he decided to perfect the weapon of deceit. Akechi learned from his mistakes, to the point that his heart had split itself into two people he could become: Loki as his true self, and Robin Hood as who he needs to be.

Even Akira had understood the hubris of exposing himself, had felt the same punishment that Akechi was subjected to (ironically by the same person). In a world where a mask can be the difference between life and death, Akechi and Akira had decided to be its executioner rather than the one subjected to the sharp end of the guillotine.

By the nature of these rules, Ryuji should have been beheaded. And he was.

But instead of learning his lesson the way Akechi and Akira had, he had been rejuvenated. Instead of bending to the will of authority, he let that pressure mold him into something tougher, let the anger inside him fester and grow.

It had made sense, in hindsight, why Ryuji had treated him the way he did (it’s not like Akechi had the best intentions). So seeing him like this, where he never found out Akechi’s true personality, allowed him to see Ryuji in his natural state.

A feeling surges within Akechi, so foreign that it takes him slightly too long just to name it. All around him, deep in his gut, spread all the way to the tips of his fingers and his toes is wave after wave of…

“I’m done here,” Akechi says.

Discomfort.

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head. “Uh, was that weird of me to say? My bad, Ann’s always said I had a big, fat mouth. Sorry, yeah we aren’t close and stuff. Just thought it’d be nice—”

Akechi holds back a click of his tongue and, with a little effort, morphs his expression into one of false platitudes and plasticity. A slight quirk in his lips (not too high or it’ll scare them), tilt his head at a certain angle, and raise his voice an octave to indicate an apology. “Sorry to leave so suddenly. Thank you for your time.”

The rain had stopped sometime during their conversation and he hates that the universe seemed like it had taken pity on him.

Ryuji says something to him, but Akechi refuses to listen to another word—he doesn’t need to. He got what he wanted. All it took was one conversation for Akechi to know exactly what Akira sees in him.

That incessant authenticity and kindness shouldn’t exist in a world like this. It shouldn’t have existed in an angry boy like him.

Akechi tries (and fails) to look like he isn’t running away.

It was only when he was in bed later that night that he realized he didn’t find out what Ryuji’s wish was. Given the way he said Akira’s name though, Akechi didn’t have to think too hard.

—

AG: The biggest gray area in this has to be with Niijima Makoto YS: wow. I didn’t think you’d be straight-forward with your relationship with her. thank you for your honesty. YS: you both must have a difficult history with one another :( AG: What are you talking about? AG: I’m saying I don’t know where to find her. YS: ah. i see. YS: haha how about we just pretend that never happened?

They checked Shujin Academy (closed for winter break), Aoyama Itchome (for good measure), and finally the bookstore in Central Street (the smell of books is so lovely) before Akechi began to lose his temper.

“It wouldn’t be a huge surprise if we just found her in the middle of Tokyo University impersonating a research assistant as some sad excuse to feel some adrenaline for the first time in her life,” he says as they walk down the escalator, prepared to hop on the train and try somewhere else.

Sumire frowns. “Being studious doesn’t make someone boring.”

“Of course it doesn’t. Kurusu is at the top of his class and a huge public nuisance. No, Niijima’s absolutely underneath the sole of academics and government propaganda from her father since day one.”

“You don’t like her?”

“I don’t like anyone,” he replies. “Especially not someone so tied with practicing law like she plans to.”

They round the corner. “You can talk to her about that yourself.”

Standing by the overpriced-looking smoothie bar is Niijima Makoto, accompanied by a beautiful older woman who looks like she can melt down a rusted car with a single glare.

“I would think that Sae-san would quite actually murder me if I were to bring that up.”

“You know the other woman?”

“It would be rude not to know my co-workers after all,” says Akechi. “That’s prosecutor Niijima Sae—Makoto’s sister as well as one of the Thieves’ targets from the past.”

Sumire ponders over the odds for a second. “Did she happen to have a casino as a Palace?”

He pauses. “Yes. As a matter of fact, she did.”

“Amazing! What luck!” she beams. “May I try and guess what their wish may be?”

“Is this nothing but a game to you?” he says immediately, before stopping himself. “…One guess.”

Brows scrunching together, she leans towards him, shoulders sagged as if she was carrying a secret so heavy that it physically weighed her down. Poker chips, alcohol bottles, and slot machines… “Did Makoto-senpai wish for Sae-san’s gambling addiction to go away?”

Akechi stares at her. “Who was it again that taught you how Palaces work?”

“Morgana-senpai.”

“If that’s the case, I’m simply over the moon that he didn’t join us on our mission.” They walk towards the Niijimas, who were still chatting amicably with one another. “Their father passed when they were young; it left their family jaded, it was traumatizing, et cetera, I’m sure you get the gist.”

“Wait, I really don’t—”

“Akechi? What a coincidence!”

The sisters greeted them with kind eyes and soft smiles, and Sumire has to accept that she’s out of her league for this one—the student council president may have been a common name around school, but it hardly ever came with more information other than how good her grades were, as well as the potential ‘narc’ comment. But despite what Akechi thinks, no Phantom Thief could possibly be on the side of the police; they’ve all had enough firsthand experience with that particular institution to see just how often the system has failed them.

Akechi nods. “It truly is,” he says, as if they hadn’t spent half the day walking around Tokyo scrounging for them. “This is Yoshizawa Sumire, Sae-san.”

“Pleasure to meet you!”

“Likewise,” Sae says.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised to see you here,” Akechi says. “Did we interrupt you both?”

“Not at all. We were just doing some grocery shopping for dinner tonight. Our father’s been having a craving for teriyaki,” she answers. “Why so surprised, Akechi?”

“Nothing in particular,” he says, and Sumire can feel his smugness radiating from where she’s standing. Well, he is a detective, so she’s not too shocked. “It’s simply refreshing to see you spending time with your family, despite being as busy as you are.” With a tilt of his head, he turns to Makoto. “I haven’t heard about your father for a long time.”

Makoto recoils a little, and winces. “My…father? No, wait, dad’s been gone for…It doesn’t make any sense…:

Sumire nearly startles when Makoto suddenly straightens up, gaze clouded. Akechi clicks his tongue.

“Sorry,” she says, a bit dizzily, already taking a step back. “Sae and I need to make it to the grocery store before it closes.”

Sumire waves half-heartedly and sighs when they’re gone. “Niijima-senpai perhaps had the most graceful escape so far,” she comments.

Pulling back his sleeve, Akechi peers at his watch. “It’s two pm. She could’ve done better,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame. I had high hopes for her to be the first one. She’s the only one in that circus who had more than one brain cell and isn’t named Kurusu.”

“…May I ask you something?”

“You’re already asking a question, just ask it.”

Sumire rocks back and forth on her heels. “Why do you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name?”

“Last name,” she corrects. “Why not call him by his first name?”

“What kind of question is that? Is this a test? A trial to prove that I’m willing to be honest?” Sumire stays silent. “Alright then, if it’ll help you sleep at night. I can’t possibly fathom how you still haven’t figured out that he and I aren’t as buddy-buddy as you think.”

“Well, yes, I know that but—”

“And you?”

Her heart rate skyrockets. “What about me?”

“You call him by his surname as well, even topped off with a ‘senpai’ at the end,” Akechi raises a brow. “Why not on a first name basis?”

“W-we aren’t that close!” she exclaims. “That’s reserved for people who’s close to him, like a good friend, or a girlf—boyfr—partner. We just… aren’t that.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Akechi says. “We aren’t even on a first name basis with him, yet here we are; fresh from New Year’s, running around Tokyo for his friends who should be doing this instead.”

(Sumire very nearly says it, what’s been on her mind since Maruki’s Palace. But as it stands, she doesn’t want to ruin the foundation—very unstable, can most definitely blow away with a strong gust of wind, but a foundation nonetheless—that she and Akechi reluctantly built.)

“Yes, it really is strange.”

—

AG: Are you particularly close with Okumura? YS: unfortunately not, no. i’ve heard about what happened to her father, though. Perhaps her wish is related to his passing. AG: …Yes, I believe it is. I would think that the two of them would look at ways of expanding the Big Bang business. So basically, Tokyo Hotspots. YS: kichijoji? that place is always bustling YS: not to mention, i’d love for them to open up there. their milkshakes are incredible ( ◜‿◝ )♡ AG: Good call. We’ll try there first then. AG: At any rate, it will be a very quick confrontation with her.

“So I’ve been thinking—”

“A dangerous pastime, but go on.”

Sumire huffs without heat as they traverse Kichijoji—busy even in this time of year, though in no small part because of the shrine nearby. “We’ve been doing this…” What are they doing? “Saving our known reality business for nearly a week now. It hasn’t been going the best.”

Neither of them need a reminder that their victory ratio is currently at a strong zero to six. “So maybe we need to change it up a bit! I thought up a strategy last night that I think we should implement today,” she beams up at him.

Akechi’s gaze can wither flowers. “Do you need me to explain how idiotic that sounds?”

“Oh, come on Akechi! We need all the help we can get, especially since we only have two left. Plus, you haven’t even heard the strategy. Would you like to hear it?”

She doesn’t wait for his response before eagerly pushing through. “I understand and accept that you’re a bit ruthless, which is great! Well, great if that’s who you are. And since you called me a goody two shoes that one time, I figured we can go with that.” Sumire steps in front of Akechi and raises her hands to the sky, chin tilted upwards. “We can do the ‘good guy, bad guy’ strategy! That’s what we’ve been doing anyway. It can be like Zootopia.”

A silence stretches out—Sumire’s grin unfaltering and Akechi’s perfectly blank.

Then, “What the fuck is a Zootopia?

“Did you not watch that movie? It was pretty big.”

“Do I look like someone who’d watch a documentary on the animal kingdom?” His eyes zero in on something. “Lucky us, we found them.”

Okumura Haru stands with whom Sumire can only assume is her father. The speak amicably with each other, adoration radiating off of them as they point and gesture at the various businesses around the promenade.

“Don’t forget the strategy,” she whispers.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds sarcastically.

A feeling of optimism blossoms in Sumire’s chest as they approach the Okumuras. Maybe it’s the nice weather, or it’s another opportunity to finally achieve their goal of gaining one of Akira’s allies. Mostly though, she chalks it up as relief that even though it’s far from perfect, Akechi’s finally starting to let down the drawbridge, bit by bit.

And that’s when Haru decides to look in their direction.

Instead of the initial small talk, the breadcrumbs that hint towards their other reality, instead of gently edging them to the truth, Haru had completely bypassed all of that. A feeling of deja vu tugs strangely at Sumire as she takes in her expression—the usual confusion and pained tightening of the brows, but this time, a raw, unquestionable fury morphs onto her features.

It’s a near-perfect replica of Futaba’s expression.

After a few seconds, Haru says something to her father, and they leave, leaving Akechi and Sumire mid-stride in the middle of the promenade.

Another silence reigns over them, heavy and suffocating despite the bustle of Kichijoji.

“We didn’t even need to talk to her,” Akechi says. “An efficient failure.” The silence stretches on. “You have something to say..”

Sumire shoots him a dark look. “Alley,” she says, voice uncharacteristically low. “It might upset the families if we speak rudely in front of them.”

She leads them to the backstreets, where most stores are closed until the nightlife crowd rolls in. It was empty, and only the metal shutters and stray plastic bags strewn about the pavement were present to hear them.

“Of course I have something to say,” Sumire says, fists clenched tightly at her sides. “You promised back at Leblanc. You said that you won’t withhold information from me anymore, for the sake of the mission.”

She points behind her in the direction of where the Okumura’s left. “Despite what you may like to believe, I’m not an idiot who won’t notice something as obvious as Okumura-senpai running away the second she sees you. She didn’t even speak to us before she ran, which is considerably worse than Sakura-chan.” Sumire’s eyes narrow. “What are you still hiding from me?”

Throughout her speech, Akechi didn’t even blink. “Has it occurred to you that I simply lied when I made that pesky promise to you, or are you still the same person who fell right into Maruki’s waiting hands last spring?”

Sumire recoils as if she’d been hit. “Don’t bring that up, it has nothing to do with this—”

“Doesn’t it?” his voice is cold. “Isn’t the reason why you’re so desperate for me to be open with you is that you have some sort of trust issues?”

“That’s not it.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere,” Akechi’s red eyes seem to be glowing despite the darkness in the shadowed alley. With a sickening feeling, she realizes he’s enjoying this. “Let me take a guess. You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, an overflowing kindness that you have to act on and spread across the globe. And, if you’re simply good and lucky enough, maybe, just maybe, your beloved ‘Kurusu-senpai’ will look away from his little group long enough to see how sweet and kind you are—”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off. Her voice is slow and deliberate. “You want to know what I’m doing this for? It’s because I’m sick and tired of these hellish lies.”

Akechi stays quiet as she continues, struggling to speak while her eyes blazed with fury. “I basically just found out that I’m not who I thought I was for the past ten months. Do you know what that feels like? It’s like if someone kidnapped me, shoved me in the back of a van, blindfolded. Maruki, bless his soul, forced me to believe whatever garbage he thought was best for me. It makes me sick to think that I fell for that reality, never once did I question it.”

She clenches her jaw. “You know what I want, Akechi? It’s not the philanthropy you’re so obsessed with, or senpai’s affection. What I want is my kidnapper to fail. I want him to regret what he did to me, to stop what he’s doing to everyone else. Even if his intentions were good, I am not going to let him get away with this,” Sumire looks directly into Akechi’s eyes. “And you are not going to be the one to slow me down.”

Chest heaving, she realizes she’s breathless. After a brief pause, Akechi speaks.

“Our motivations aren’t too far off from one another,” his voice is strangely cool, as if his fury and long since dissipated from the surface and had manifested into something sharp and dangerous. “You said you’re tired of the lies? Of being used like some kind of puppet, a test subject? Of having the rug pulled from you just because someone fucking felt like it? Good. But our similarities stop there.”

He leans back against the metal gate of a closed bar. “At the root of it, you want to stop Maruki so that he doesn’t push his beliefs to anyone else. Whether you like it or not, your motivation is accidental philanthropy. I could not give less of a shit about Maruki, or Tokyo, or even the rest of this damned world. I just want to be able to live in a reality where I get to choose what I want to do.”

“So let me help you!” she exclaims, frustrated. “Some detective, you are—keeping secrets isn’t going to help this situation.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? I tried to make this as easy to understand as possible, but I guess I just have to make it obvious.” Akechi straightens up and from the smirk resting on his mouth and the way his brow is lifted, condescension is simply dripping from him. Sumire refuses to recoil. “I don’t care if you want to help me. I am a selfish person who does what he wants. I’m willing to tear down anyone in my path, use anyone in my way, if it means that I get what I want.”

“Maybe you are!” Sumire says. “A selfish person, I mean.”

Akechi blinks, and throws his head back, loud laughter echoing through the alley. “‘Maybe I am?’” He laughs again, nearly doubling over. When he sobers up a bit, she has to force herself not to flinch. It’s as if something had unhinged in Akechi and she’s seeing the result of that—his eyes are twinkling as his smirk stretches even further over his face; an edged grin. “Do you need an example, Yoshizawa? Proof? Citation for what I’ve done just so you can understand? Look forward to it, since you’ll learn at long last why Sakura and Okumura took one look at me and fled.”

Bending over slightly so that he’s eye-level with Sumire, he announces: “I killed Sakura Futaba’s mother and Okumura Haru’s father. I am a murderer.”

“So am I.”

Akechi stops breathing, blinking as he processes what Sumire just said. She only looks back through narrowed eyes, daring him to say something.

When he doesn’t, she relaxes a bit. “Are you in the mood for darts? Since we finished with Okumura-senpai much earlier than expected, we have some time. And besides,” Sumire brushes her bangs out of her eyes. “There’s more to discuss, and I’m not really feeling this alley anymore.”

—

“It’s different. You must know that it’s different.”

Sumire waits until she gets their darts from behind the counter. “I know.”

Darts & Billiards was never particularly full, but it was never empty either. There were a few groups, pairs, and serious soloists that filled the entire room with indecipherable chatter and the loud clack of eight-balls colliding with one another. Anything that Akechi and Sumire might talk about thankfully gets shrouded by the white noise.

“Any preferences?” she says, waving around the dart in her hands.

“701,” he says immediately. “Anything lower is child’s play.”

Sumire nods as she inputs the settings. “Kurusu-senpai said something before he went with Dr. Maruki,” she began. “He said that he was doing this for his friends—the Thieves, myself,” she glances back. “And in his words, ‘especially you.’”

“And what of it?” Akechi asks.

“I believe that Kurusu-senpai knows of your past, knows your struggles and whatever you’ve gone through. I can only guess what you’ve had to endure, and how it led you to what you did to their parents.” Sumire offers him his set of darts. “May I go first?”

Akechi nods and she takes her stance—despite everything, she’s a little nervous playing darts with someone who actually plays to win.

Sumire throws it as best she can when Akechi speaks. “Does it justify it, then? If my life was difficult enough, would you give me a pass for killing innocent people?”

“No,” she casts another dart. “It doesn’t. Nothing really justifies that.” Pinching her last dart between her fingers, she fiddles as she thinks. “But I accidentally killed my sister over my incompetence in gymnastics.”

“But that’s the difference,” Akechi waves his hand. “It wasn’t an accident that they died by my hands. I had planned it, plotted it, and accomplished it. What you did wasn’t deliberate; it was a spur of the moment decision to run into traffic.”

Sumire hurls her final dart a little harder than usual. “I didn’t say that you should be forgiven, Akechi! I mean, I still don’t forgive myself. But even if it is different, I can at least understand your sentiments a fraction better than anyone else can. Do I think that it’s fine that two people who’re the same age as us lost their parents? Of course not. It makes me ill just thinking about it.”

She walks to the board and gingerly plucks off her darts. “But if I tried to pretend that I don’t understand what you’ve done—that isn’t right, either.”

He has a thoughtful expression on his face, his darts rolling between his fingers similar to how people fidget with loose change; Sumire hadn’t even known it was possible to do that. “Interesting.”

Stepping up to the mat, Akechi tilts his body sideways, obviously practiced in the game. His expression doesn’t change when it lands on a triple twenty.

“Do you regret it?”

His hand is steady as he throws—another triple twenty. “The murders? It depends.”

“On?”

“Do I regret being caught, used, and humiliated by losers who I thought were beneath me? Yes. Do I regret ending the lives of many?” casting his third dart, it lands so close to the others that they wobble in unison. “No. Not really.”

Sumire’s next round was a silent one, Akechi’s confession playing on repeat in her mind. He had simply said it with no hesitation; his tenor hadn’t changed, posture didn’t shift. The words that flowed out of him had no emotion whatsoever—they were clinical, like a doctor stating the facts to a terminal patient.

The ongoing background noise paid no mind to their silence, stuck in its blissful ignorance despite the pair’s topics. If there’s one guarantee in this world, it’s that it’s extremely likely that no one will listen just as the conversation is getting important.

Akechi’s on his second turn when he says, “You took well to the fact that I’ve killed in cold blood.”

“I knew that you were hiding something,” she says. “It’s because of how you act. You were a little cruel back in the Palace, and while it’s no excuse, people who have…” she scratches her head. “A hardened heart usually has a nasty past, and what Kurusu-senpai said only confirmed it.”

No matter how many times he does it, Sumire still gets impressed by his casual triple twenty.

Swapping places with him, she closes one eye as she ponders over her strategy. “But despite the fact that you’re a ruthless sort of person—” her dart sails forward and sticks to the board. “I’m willing to look past it if it means we can change reality.” Sumire cocks her head at him. “Can you?”

Akechi stays silent as Sumire launches another dart—one more and they can win it. “Selfish is what we call ourselves, right?” she says. “That we’re only in it for yourselves, regardless of what happens to everyone else. If we work together and it raises the odds of getting what we want, doesn’t that still play into the fact that we’re acting for our own benefit?”

She lines herself up for the last point, and takes a deep breath. “What did you call it? Accidental philanthropy?” she throws her dart and watches as it curves beautifully—only for it to miss her mark by quarter-inch. “Oh no!”

“Accidental philanthropy…” he muses, indifferent to their loss. “That doesn’t sound half-bad.”

Sumire raises her eyebrows, skeptical. “Really?”

“I know that my past actions may have dictated our failure to some extent. That was my fault,” Akechi crosses his arms. “I won’t let it happen again.”

Maybe she was too forgiving, or too trusting, or maybe it’s the closest she’ll get as an apology out of Akechi, but she finds herself nodding. “That’s all I wanted.”

He moves to put on his coat. “Was it to your satisfaction?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve wanted to talk even before we discovered Maruki’s schemes,” he shoves his arms through his coat sleeves. “Are you satisfied”

“Pretty much,” Sumire nods. “I understand you much better than before, at least.”

Collecting his darts, he heads to the register. “Why do you want to understand?”

“…Because I’m curious. You changed so abruptly, I didn’t even know who you were anymore—not that I did to begin with. Not to mention, the people Kurusu-senpai knows are always interesting, and you’re definitely not an exception.”

Akechi turns, and from the doubt on his features, he doesn’t take the bait.

“Fine. That wasn’t a lie, though. I just…” she hesitates, and decides to throw caution to the wind. “I want to get to know my teammate better.”

Anything could’ve happened in that beat of silence, much to the ignorance of the loitering patrons.

“See,” he replies. “Now that I can believe. And here I thought I was the only one who needed to practice honesty more.”

He walks back to register. “I’ll handle the bill. Call it a repaying of debts, in a way.”

“For what?”

“That’s what teammates do, don’t they?”

Sumire feels herself smile widely. It had only taken about six days, their entire reality shifting, and a busted game of darts, but it finally feels like she and Akechi are fighting the same battle.

—

AG: If it all goes to plan, we should’ve at least been able to convince one of them AG: As much as it truly pains me to say it, putting our faith in them is our best chance at success. AG: Worse comes to worst, there’s a reason why we’re making him the last one to convince. He’s our trump card. YS: you mean sakamoto-senpai? AG: Ugh, don’t make me say it.

According to Akechi’s knowledge of Ryuji’s whereabouts (as unhappy as he was to recite it), there are two places that he frequents—the arcade in Shibuya or loitering around Shujin.

The arcade was full of random teens and pre-teens, all deeply invested in games that Sumire had never taken up but Akechi was apparently knowledgeable in (“Good practice,” he had replied when she asked, and she opted not to pry any further).

The two had hopped back on the train to Aoyama-Itchome, forced to stand as life resumes back to normalcy post-holidays. Despite the tight fit of the car, Akechi had placed a good amount of space between them—whether it’s for his sake or hers, she can appreciate the gesture.

The morning was a strange one. Ever since their darts game and impromptu heart-to-heart, the atmosphere between them had shifted. It’s still a few miles off from being friendly, but it’s easier now; there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a common goal that drives them forward.

Still, it would’ve been nice if they had gotten their act together prior to meeting with their last Phantom Thief.

“By the way,” Akechi says, and Sumire’s eyes flicker up at him in interest. They had been silent since they stepped on the train. “In the acknowledgement of…team spirit,” his lips curled, unable to keep the mocking out of his words at such a ridiculous concept. “I should let you know that I’ve spoken to Sakamoto.”

“Oh.” She can’t seem to muster up any shock. “When? Did you plan it?”

“A few days ago, and no, it was by chance,” his eyes narrowed. “Did you speak to Sakamoto?”

“Not on purpose!” Sumire defends, shifting her sweaty grip on the plastic handle. “He just happened to be there.”

“He seems to have a knack for that,” Akechi says, and Sumire doesn’t comment on the strange quality of his voice—bitterness? “Well? Anything worth repeating?”

“Uh…” she racks her brain. Somehow, she doesn’t think that Ryuji’s blow by blow of the new shounen manga was what Akechi’s looking for. “Nothing in particular. Oh! He spoke quite a bit about Kurusu-senpai, but that’s not too surprising, considering his wish and all.” ‘Quite a bit’ might be a bit of an understatement.

He squints at her. “Whose wish?”

“Kurusu-senpai’s? Obviously Sakamoto-senpai would still be affected since he’s directly tied Kurusu-senpai’s wish.”

His stare doesn’t relent. “Why on earth would Kurusu’s wish still be affecting Sakamoto? He already broke free of the fake reality, meaning that Sakamoto isn’t affected by Kurusu’s wish,” says Akechi. “The idiot has his own wish. Did you not know?”

Sumire would describe herself as a person with a decent amount of pride, but an obvious fact like that has heat rushing to her cheeks. She ignores him and instead asks, “Did you figure out his real wish?”

“On a technicality, no. Though I have a rather strong hunch on what it is, based on my interaction with him,” he cringes a bit when the train rocks someone into him. “It’s likely that his wish may be the exact as Kurusu’s.”

“As in…” she blinks. “He wished to be with senpai?”

“It’s possible. Disgusting, how desperate they are to bring something to fruition that could easily be done without the Metaverse.” And he adds, “Your conclusion wasn’t too far off.”

“Wow,” as articulate as it was, it was really all she could say about his observation. It sounds like an impossibility; having two people wish for each other, like some cheesy rom-com but with way more monsters and magic. Yet it makes sense—the way Ryuji spoke of Akira like he put up the moon, with a feeling of undeniable admiration and respect sandwiched between friendly jabs at him. It sounds like an impossibility, she realizes, because it probably is one. It would take something as insane as the Metaverse to create something as equally improbable as their level of requited love.

The speaker overhead announces their station and they both exit with no small amount of polite shoving.

It’s a short walk from Aoyama to the school, a route familiar enough to Sumire that she can probably traverse it with her eyes closed.

“Do you know where in Shujin he might be?” Akechi asks, and belatedly she realizes she hasn’t given him any indication for where to go. Not that it was a problem—for someone who doesn’t go here, he seems to know the path just as well as she does. “Is the school even open?”

“It should be fine,” Sumire says. “The grounds, maybe? Actually, the track is probably our best shot, since he goes for a run pretty often.”

A beat passes.

“How often?” he asks slowly.

“Um—” she spots a familiar patch of bleached hair. “Look, there he is! It looks like he’s talking to…is that the track team?”

Akechi hums. “Is it, now?”

“Pipe down, dumbass!” Even half a block down, Ryuji’s voice rings loud and clear. “I’m only tryin’ my best so you guys don’t laugh me—oh, no effin’ way. Yoshizawa! Akechi! Sorry, gimme a sec,” he calls back to the others as he half-jogs towards them.

“I knew it,” Akechi mutters.

“Huh?” she asks.

“His leg. He isn’t limping.”

Sumire’s brow creases. She’s about to ask Akechi to clarify when it dawns on her:

Kamoshida had explained to her (in full, descriptive, unhesitating detail) about the delinquent students that roamed the walls of Shujin, there was one in particular he had a special hatred for—Sakamoto Ryuji. Rumors had done little to reveal the truth of his declaration, but a single conversation with Ryuji had cleared away any possibility that he was the type for unnecessary violence.

However, there is one truth that came from every lie that was spread about him; his leg has been damaged to the point where professional running is no longer a possibility.

Ryuji approaches them, smiling and limp-free.

Which means—

“What’s up?” he asks. Just like when Sumire saw him before, Ryuji is donned in the standard school P.E track pants (red and white and cuffed at the bottom). It didn’t mean much to her then. “Whatcha doin’ here, Akechi? You transferring schools, or something?”

In all of ten seconds, Ryuji had proved them wrong without even knowing it.

“I was here to pick up a few books from the library when I bumped into him,” she lies for the both of them. “And you, senpai?”

Ryuji takes a step back, shocked. “Damn! You’re makin’ the rest of us look bad. Nah, the track guys just forced me to hangout with them to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yeah, uh,” sneakers scuffing the concrete, Ryuji turns a light shade of pink when he admits, “The school might’ve let slip that there’s some colleges that might be scouting after me after my last meet.”

Even Akechi looked a little impressed. “That’s no small feat.”

“That’s incredible, senpai!” Sumire cries, unable to hold herself back. “That’s—that’s huge! Bigger than huge, it’s being scouted! Do you know how cool that is? Of course you do, you’re the one who got scouted!”

She throws both her hands up to the sky and Ryuji slaps them, the pleasant echo resounds through the alley and leaves them both shaking out their palms.

“Thanks,” Ryuji grins. “But don’t get too excited. It ain’t confirmed or anything,” he tries to keep the elation out of his voice and fails miserably. “I’m just so dang happy cause that means things’ll be easier for my mom down the line, y’know?”

It’s like a slap to the face, a jolt that sends her crash landing back to reality. Because she isn’t here to congratulate Ryuji for his success—she’s here to take that away from him. Not for the first time, she wonders if they should be doing this.

Then she recalls the painful but relieving feeling of getting her own memories back. Yoshizawa Sumire back. She recalls the boy beside her who’d do quite literally anything to get rid of this reality. She recalls a busy street, blood pooling on the concrete.

Sumire focuses. If not for herself, or for Akechi, then she’d focus for Kasumi.

“I’m happy for you,” she says, meaning every word. “How did Kurusu-senpai react?”

“Oh, that guy? I haven’t told him yet, so let’s keep it between us, y’know what I’m sayin’?” Ryuji goes for a wink, though it’s definitely closer to a blink.

Akechi coughs. “Is there a reason you haven’t told him yet? You both are quite…close, after all.”

“He’s been tough to contact the past week,” Ryuji shrugs, and neither of them mention that working with a Palace ruler probably consumes a good chunk of one’s leisure time. “I really wanna surprise him, though! Considering that he supported me more than anyone when it comes to track.”

“That’s kind of him,” says Akechi.

“Well, yeah. Both of us had to deal with Kamoshida toge…ther…” he seemed to listen to what he was saying, and stops abruptly. Any excitement that was on his face is wiped clean. Finally.

“How did you deal with Kamoshida together?” Akechi asks slowly. They had to be careful—this is their last shot.

“It, uh,” he purses his lips. “It was an accident at first, I think. Didn’t mean to.” Eyes sliding shut, he mutters, mostly to himself. “It was raining, I remember that. So why can’t I…?”

The two of them lean forward unconsciously as they gauge Ryuji’s reaction.

“You’ve got this, Sakamoto-senpai,” Sumire prompts gently.

It isn’t too different from watching someone do a math problem and seeing them do one, tiny thing wrong; seeing that tiny mistake being overlooked, even though it’s so obvious to the observer. He is so close, one breath away from—

“Sakamoto!”

Ryuji jerks, eyes flinging open and her heart sinks, irritation blossoming towards this random athlete who unknowingly jeopardized their known reality.

“Uh, yeah!” he calls back, shaking his head as if ridding himself of a bad dream. “Be there in a sec!”

“If that pesky runner is in Mementos, I swear he’ll be dead by tomorrow,” Akechi mummers darkly, because he always takes things too far.

“Sorry, gotta bail,” Ryuji apologizes. He still looks slightly unsettled, a little unnerved. “It was good to see you. We should grab some food sometime!”

“Wait!” Sumire blurts out before he can leave. She scrambles for something to say, finding the thought of their failure unbearable. “If—if you change your mind (or start to remember), we’ll both be in Odaiba tomorrow! At the stadium, to be exact,” she tries for a reassuring smile. “You were there in the summer, remember?”

“If I change my mind…?” he repeats, blinking. “Nah, you guys are wild. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but thanks for the invite. Later!”

He throws double peace signs up before joining his track mates once more, laughing and shoving each other in a way only teenage boys can pull off.

“An outstanding zero to seven loss,” Akechi dictates with a dead voice. “What a team we make. I’m floored.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice!” Sumire exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead. “I literally saw him running, and I didn’t put the pieces together.”

He shakes his head. “How are you focusing on his wish?” Akechi asks, leaning against the stone pillar near him. “It doesn’t matter what his wish is. The point is, we lost. We wasted this week, and we don’t have a choice other than to confront Kurusu alone.”

“You forgot about the whole point of our plan, Akechi. Just because his friends didn’t realize the truth right away, doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“They probably won’t.”

“We’ll just have to see, then. If Kurusu-senpai has one talent, it’s his natural…thing, with people. You get what I mean, right?”

“No.”

“Liar. And hey!” Sumire gives him a pointed look. “You aren’t doing this alone! We’re working together—like two peas in a pod.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten our oath of team spirit. But still, that doesn’t change the fact that with the combined powers of Maruki and Kurusu, we’re as good as dead,” he says, and pauses. “Unless Maruki isn’t there.”

Sumire frowns, “Even if we could, I don’t think we should kidnap a doctor.”

“I meant that he might willingly not be there. He’s quite democratic and trusting—I can see that he might leave this in Kurusu’s hands. Don’t be fooled, though. If Kurusu wanted us gone, we probably would be.”

“I can’t imagine that he would ever do something like that.” The idea of Akira using his powers in that way… she doesn’t even want to indulge in the thought.

“He won’t,” Akechi agrees. “He never shoots to kill when it comes to real people,” he sighs. “A weakness on his part.”

“But you’re still saying that we should fight senpai. Fight Kurusu Akira.”

“I’m saying we should beat some sense into him. Convince him like we tried to convince all of his little gremlins, except we succeed this time around,” his face pinches together, as if he had something sour. “It’s not as if we have a choice.”

She hesitates, despite knowing that Akechi’s right. He scoffs at her. “Worried about scratching up the pretty boy? Trust me—we couldn’t finish him off even if we tried.”

It’s a little worrying to see how sure he is that Akira is apparently very difficult to murder. “Fine,” Sumire relents. “But I’m still going to hope for the best with his friends.”

“Then I’ll prepare for the worst, as per usual.”

A water droplet hits Sumire’s cheek, startling her. She looks up to be greeted by dark clouds.

“It’s raining.”

“I suppose we should rest for today, considering what we’re up against.”

“Hold on,” Sumire says, feeling bold. “The Metaverse—I’m still a little unsure about all that but bear with me—is about the strength of the heart and cognition, right?”

“Yes?” he nods at her in a go on manner.

“So, hypothetically, if we got some…cognition strengthening breakfast food together—”

“No.”

“I think it would be beneficial to us!” she says. It really did seem like a good idea when she first thought it up, but she really should’ve expected the resistance that comes with it; Akechi seems to hate the notion of fun. “The way you looked at my plate from back then is still stuck in by brain on loop—”

“That look is called disgust—”

“It would be really fun! Or um, not fun, but advantageous to the strength of our—our Personas?”

She’s grasping at straws, but optimism is one of her better traits. Still, Akechi’s withering glare is proving to be a tough foe. Sumire’s not going to back down, though. Whether she wanted it to happen or not, she finds herself liking his company more and more despite his thorns (many, many thorns).

Sumire couldn’t help but break out into a grin when Akechi speaks, voice void of any emotion:

“I’m picking this time. IHOP is an abomination.”

—

She didn’t think that hole-in-the-wall breakfast cafes existed, and if she did, she most definitely never would’ve guessed that Akechi would be leading her to one.

Laughing out loud at the situation would grant her a death wish through Loki, but it’s impossible not to. The light pastel shades of the cafe are comically paradoxical to Akechi’s eternal conniving expression and tone, yet the employees seem to light up when he enters and even greet him by name.

He orders without even looking at the menu and she decides to get two of whatever he’s getting; partly because she has no idea what to get, mostly out of curiosity.

They seat themselves in one of the frilly booths and once the food arrives, she has to physically stop herself from drooling.The three tall stacks of pancakes were steaming, thick, fluffy, and perfectly golden brown. The neapolitan ice cream was placed precariously on top, slowly melting and all completely drizzled in chocolate and strawberry syrup. Akechi almost looks like he wants to tell her that it physically isn’t possible to fit both stacks inside of her, but she’s already halfway through her first stack by the time he eats a forkful.

Unable to hold back, Sumire brings up his comment from back when they all went to the Kichijoji cafe with Akira.

“Oh, that?” Akechi reaches over to grab the syrup bottle. “I said I didn’t like sweet bread. Sweets are, in and of itself,” he pours an alarming amount of strawberry syrup on his plate. “Not bad.”

The conversation is light—none of the darker topics that were present during their darts game. Sumire hesitatingly asks him what it’s like to work with the police as a detective. She wasn’t expecting a detailed point-by-point explanation about the cops being the most ‘incompetent people who have ever wielded any amount of power, and yes I’m counting Mona in his normal cat form.’

In turn, Akechi seems genuinely interested in Sumire’s athletic career, wondering if her skills help her fight in the Metaverse.

Eventually, they even start talking about more mundane topics; clubs that they might have been participating in (“Gymnastics, obviously” and “Detective work if that counts, but not so much anymore”), what Akechi’s high school is like (“Boring, but I get excused often enough that it makes it bearable”), if they’re on social media much (“Yes! But my smartphone can barely open up any apps” and “I have a phone number and an email—that should be enough”).

Despite Akechi’s ever-present clipped comments, Sumire has to admit that this was all a nice change of pace. She’s having fun, sitting here, eating pancakes and talking. And if his replies were getting less snippy and more talky, maybe he’s feeling the same way.

Even if it’s only for an afternoon, even if they have to fight their counselor who now apparently controls reality, even if they have to fight Kurusu Akira—

It’s nice to just act like two teenagers with a sweet tooth for a day.

—

It’s just as cold as it was a week ago.

They’ve already been transformed into their Metaverse customers, and it’s blessedly warmer near the elevator than it is on the outskirts. None of that matters though; not with them standing in front of Maruki’s Palace once again.

“It has a certain beauty,” Sumire comments. “The Palace.”

“It’s a safety hazard, is what it is. Realistically, these would all crumble like tissue paper without Maruki holding it all up.”

“Still,” the abnormal swirls and teetering light fixtures possess a charm that she finds lovely in it’s own way. “I can admire it for what it is.”

Akechi nods at the elevator, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Wait.”

He stops. “What?”

“Kurusu-senpai gave sort of a battle plan before we went in,” Sumire reminded him. “Do you have one?”

“Hit him harder than he hits you,” Akechi pulls out his serrated steel, reflecting the light of the entrance hall. “Other than that, don’t die, and don’t fall behind.”

All things considered, it isn’t the worst pep talk she’s ever heard.

They start off to the depths of the Palace. The journey to see Akira is different without him present, but it’s as if the shadows are purposefully less aggressive with them—whether it’s because Maruki wants them to get there safely or what, but it lets them traverse through the lab with a fair amount of ease.

An announcement rings through the grand halls. “VIP patients identified. We will now begin the grand tour—please head to the auditorium through the door on your left.”

Definitely Maruki, then.

“How kind of them to politely inform us of their location,” Akechi remarks, and they head further inward.

They pass by what looks like research centres—powerpoints plastered by pie charts and numbers, shadows giving lectures on cognition (which is a strange sight to see), brain scan posters and lab coats strewn about. Sumire imagines that this might be what a university would look like in amidst of organized chaos.

Turning the corner, a double-door awaits them.

“Alright,” Sumire steels herself, hand finding her rapier’s hilt. “I hope senpai’s ready for us.”

“Trust me,” he reaches out to grab the handle. “He will be.”

A hallway meets them when they pass through. A long, white staircase elegantly leads them down and into what looks like a small version of a football stadium—seats filled up with faceless shadows and unlit theatre lights are hung from the beams above. Maybe it’s because this area has an uncanny resemblance to her competition venues, but she feels a tingle run down her spine: the feeling of anticipation.

They walk to the centre of it with caution, footsteps slow yet it resounding out all the same. She glances forward, squinting slightly against the darkness; a set of stairs that lead atop a stage are laid out in front of them, carpeted and plush. Ready for a performance.

Suddenly, all the lights flash on, white fluorescence blaring down on them mercilessly. Sumire and Akechi cringe against the unrelenting assault on their corneas.

“Welcome back.”

On top of the steps stood Akira, cloaked in his black Phantom Thief garb and drenched in blinding lights.

“I’m glad you two seem to be doing good. Honestly, I was a little nervous at first,” he descends the staircase, unhurried, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Looks like I was worried for nothing.”

“Worried? About us?” Akechi levels him with an incredulous look. “We aren’t the ones who are actively advocating the side of brainwashing.”

“I’m advocating the side of my friends being happy again,” he corrects firmly, turning to make eye contact with Sumire. “I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that they weren’t happy, that they weren’t over the moon with euphoria. If you can tell me that, then I’ll join you in the fight against Maruki.”

Gazing into Akira’s eyes, Sumire opens her mouth, before looking away.

“That’s what I expected,” he shrugs, “It’s nice seeing them happy, right? But I’m not stupid—that won’t stop you two. You’re nearly as stubborn as I am.”

“Senpai,” she pleads. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“Neither do I. But you need to get Maruki to revert reality back to what it was,” Akira adjusts his gloves, and they both tense. “And to get to him, you have to get through me.”

“He’s really not backing down, isn’t he?” she mutters, her heart rate picking up rapidly.

Akechi snarls. “The tide sooner stop washing up before he quits being a fucking idiot.”

“You guys ready?” Akira calls. His tone is light, but there’s an undeniable glint to his eyes, similar to how the edge of a knife reflects light, and spreads his arms out. “Give it all you’ve got.”

Sumire meets Akechi’s eyes, and they nod.

They had a strategy, as loose as it was; there’s strength in numbers, and for once they have the advantage—pin him down, corner him, whatever they can manage, and incapacitate him until he listens to what they have to say. While this plan would certainly be more effective with more people, two should be enough to get the job done.

The air whistles around them as they dart forward, masks burning blue.

“Give him hell, Loki!”

The monochrome trickster bursts from the cinders with its eyes dead set on Akira. He raises a heavy hand and brings down his blade, slamming into the flooring as if it was warm butter, but Akira was already gone—he had hopped away just in time, giving them a cocky little smile.

Akechi snarled and swung again, only for Akira to bend backwards as if he’s in the most crucial game of limbo in recorded history, Laevatein missing him by an inch.

Before he can straighten himself again, Sumire shouts, “Dance, Cendrillon!”

As if the bells of midnight were calling her, a woman of glass and elegance manifests, white cloak blowing back from an unknown wind. A burst of light shoots from her crystal form but Akira had expected it, turning his bend into a backwards roll, not even trying to hide his grin. She’s starting to think that he was lying to her when he said he had no history with gymnastics. Maybe once this is all done, she could introduce him to her coach.

This back and forth continues, black and white and red all clashing together without anyone finding a target at all—that is, if Akira even had a target to begin with.

It’s as maddening as it is impressive to see him dodge and parry every attack; a hop here, a tilt there. It’s almost as if he knows what they were going to do before they even did it. It’s glaringly obvious why, yet it was another simple fact they overlooked—he was their leader, the person who made sure they had two, three, four possible strategies in their back pocket going into every fight. If not to ensure victory, then he does it to make sure that each and every one of them were capable enough to keep themselves safe.

But that just makes it all the more impossible to gain the upper hand.

By the time Akira had traversed nearly half the stadium in his evasion, not a hair out of place and unperturbed, Akechi and Sumire were breathing hard.

“He has,” Sumire gasps between breaths. “No intention of hitting us.”

“Dammit,” he hisses. “He’s turning this into a stamina battle.”

“Did you guys think I’d attack?” Akira frowns. Squinting at Sumire, he rummages through his pockets and tosses something to her. She catches it on instinct and peers down at the bottle of Arginade in her hand.

“It isn’t much, but I don’t want you hurting yourselves over this. I’d, uh, give one to Akechi too, but I think he’d throw it at my head or something.”

“Thank you,” Sumire sets the bottle down gingerly. “But I don’t think I should.”

“Suit yourself.”

“He’s wasting our time,” says Akechi. He points his steel at the corridor behind Akira. “Let’s just move past and find Maruki ourselves.”

She nods and they take a step forward before—

“Come, Black Frost.”

A flash of blue and a split second is all it took for the hallway’s entrance to be completely concealed in thick ice. “If you do that though, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“That wall won’t be enough to stop Cendrillon, senpai.”

“Probably not,” Akira agrees, gloved hand touching an invisible mask. “But a week was a lot of time to mix up some Personas.”

The implication makes Sumire swallow—Akechi wasn’t exaggerating.

“We have to stop him here,” she says quietly. “Even if we got lucky and ran, there’s no way we can reach Dr. Maruki with senpai trying to catch us.

Akechi clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately. We can’t win against him in a battle of stamina, but if we move fast and hit hard enough, we can catch him off guard.” His eyes flicker at Akira watching them speak, posture relaxed. “I’ve never had to reserve energy in a fight much, so this is the best plan with what we have.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t hold back,” Akechi huffs the same time Sumire says, “Don’t kill him.”

And then they sprint forward, rapidly closing in the distance to Akira.

Akechi meets her look before they split off wordlessly, approaching their target from either side.

“Hit him hard, Loki!”

“Aid me, Cendrillon!”

Curse and bless, dark and light come at Akira like a hand of judgement, narrowly escaping by flipping backwards with one hand and throwing out the other. “Let’s go, Yoshitsune.”

And like a scene from a classic Japanese period tale, a swordsman emerges from the embers, dual-wielding Katanas in either hand. WIth an air of divinity, he slices sideways, forcing the two to jerk away.

Perhaps it’s the effect of the Metaverse, its link to cognition, but the use of words became futile beyond the calling of their Personas—she can judge what Akechi had in mind without language just as he can support her in her strikes, where to stand so they don’t get caught in each other’s crossfire.

Sumire pulls out her rapier and swipes at Akira’s torso but it’s too slow; he shifts out of the way and again to dodge Akechi’s bullets like a true Phantom Thief—as elusive and hard to catch as mist.

“You’re pulling your punches, Yoshizawa!” Akechi shouts.

“I’m not trying to kill him!” Cendrillon moves her own weapon impossibly quick, glowing lines appearing midair like a child drawing on paper, and it all bursts in unison—slicing through everything indiscriminately, yet Akira remains untouched.

“Give me some credit,” he calls, coattail swishing stylishly. “I don’t think I’m doing too bad.” Yoshitsune dashes forward, armor glinting and steel sparking as lightning shoots from his katanas, several inches to Sumire’s right. It leaves her hair filled to the brim with static.

Exhausting as their back and forth was, Akira hadn’t once attacked them directly. Even when they roll or sidestep, every movement is accounted for and he adjusts his blows in turn—close enough for them to stagger back from him, but never enough for them to be touched. The message was clear: I’d never hurt you, but there’s no chance in hell I’m letting you win, either.

Still, Sumire wipes her glistening temple as Loki brings down his blade where Akira was and into the ground, the collision forceful enough to make the stage lights above rattle. It’s beginning to be clear that it would be near impossible to maintain Akira’s pin-point accuracy, given his lack of compromise on it. His rolls are getting lethargic, backflips half-assed; whether he knew it or not, he’s beginning to slow down.

And Akechi is starting to get desperate.

Precise swings from before are losing control, wild ones taking place instead.

Akira reaches up once more. “Lend me a hand, Metatron.”

What looks like an archangel crafted during the industrial revolution bursts forth where Yoshitsune once stood, eyes filled with divinity and judgement as he launches a small army of rainbow, psychokinetic spheres around Akechi’s vicinity, but fatigue causes a slight miscalculation—one of the pink orbs barely grazes his brown hair, causing him to flinch back from shock.

It didn’t hurt, it couldn’t have hurt, but it’s the first hit the Akira had landed all day, accidental or otherwise.

A beat passes as they both freeze, and Sumire slows when she sees the expression on Akira’s face, unobstructed by his mask; all the bravado, the cockiness and boldness is gone like it was never there. In its place, a gaunt, horrified look.

“I…” he breathes, unnaturally pale. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here, just…” he starts rummaging through his pockets, hands shaking. “I know I have a bead in here somewhere, just let me—” Akira’s voice cracks. “Dammit, of course I can’t find it when I actually—why can’t I—”

Akechi takes an uneasy step backwards, overexertion threatening to take over. As if it weighs a hundred pounds, he raises an arm, red eyes disturbingly bright and dead-set on Akira.

Sumire feels her breath catch in her throat; she’s in a clear position to see it happen. Akira is still frantically looking through his stuff, an overwhelming guilt seeming to cloud his senses. Akechi, in his state of mind and body, is refusing to see the facts in favor of following his instincts—because even now, he still truly believes that Akira will remain untouched, no matter what.

Because, to Akechi, he is Kurusu Akira.

“Come, Loki!”

“Goro, wait!” Sumire cries.

Time slows down as Loki raises his blade, serrated steel exuding a curse potent enough to bring down any archangel to its knees several times over. And Akira looks up, eyes wide and dilated, but it’s too late to do anything other than take a deep breath and tense himself for the devastating blow—

Footsteps resound behind them, light and fast, and before Sumire can even turn around, a familiar voice yells out:

“I don’t fucking think so.”

Sakamoto Ryuji sprints past her and as Loki brings down his sword, stands directly in front of Akira, arms wide and acting like a barricade between him and the rest of the world.

[ourtheories]

Loki and Tony

Have you ever noticed how similar Loki and Tony are?  Tony started the comparison for us in Avengers when he said, “He’s a full tilt diva.  He wants flowers, he was parades, he wants a monument built to the sky with his name plastered … I’ll be damned.”  From that moment, everyone noticed every time Tony or Loki acted the diva.

But the comparisons don’t end there.  From the very beginning, Tony is shown to be a womanizer, sleeping with a different doll every night.  He only mellows out when he falls in love and goes steady with Pepper.  Loki is also called a womanizer, though we never see him with a partner.  

Both like to make an entrance.  My favorite for Tony is in Iron Man 2, when he jumps out of the plane and flies to the stage, making a perfect landing.  My favorite for Loki is in Thor: Ragnarok, “Your savior is here!”  He even donned a new outfit for this moment.

Both are geniuses.  For Tony, it goes without saying.  For most of the journey, until we meet Shuri, he is pegged as the smartest man in the world.  (Well, there was that one time Coulson mentioned Steven Hawking.)  Tony is a master inventor who learns from his mistakes by improving his inventions.  Loki is also pegged as very intelligent, though it’s hard to measure genius in a culture so advanced.  He is a master strategist who never makes the same mistakes twice.  If something works, he repeats it.  If it doesn’t, he improves it.

Both are wealthy princes.  Ok, so Tony doesn’t have royal blood, but his vast wealth makes him a prince in many cultures.  In the first Iron Man movie, the men hired to kill him refuse to do it because they weren’t paid enough to “kill a prince”.  Loki is a prince first by royal blood and second by royal upbringing.  As such, he has limitless wealth at his disposal.

Both have “devil may care” attitudes while really caring deeply about their people.  Tony is constantly dismissing people and problems while doing whatever he wants, whether crashing his own party or hacking S.H.I.E.L.D.  However, he channels his inventive energies into making the Avengers safer and stronger fighters.  He also “adopts” several people: Rhodes, Peter, Harley, Happy.  Loki also appears dismissive, laughing off his worries or running away from his problems.  In truth, the great strategist cares greatly for his brother and for the Asgardians.  At least once, we saw Loki refuse to act when Thor might get hurt.  On the other hand, he appears to “betray” Thor, while actually working on a plan to help his people.  I especially like the scene when Loki tricks Thor into leaving him behind on Sakaar so he could steal a large rescue ship.  He knew already that they would have to evacuate the planet.

Both are prone to fits of melancholy and self pity.  Tony is trying to work this out.  Loki learned the tragic consequences of this behavior when Frigga died.

Both are a destructive force.  Tony built weapons of mass destruction all over the world.  Loki was a weapon of mass destruction all over the world.  Tony caused more damage to this world, while Loki caused damage to more worlds.

These are just a few of the similarities between the two.  You can probably find more than just eight in your own studies.  But all of this makes me wonder if Tony continued to think about Loki after he drew the first comparison.

Did Tony realize that Loki let him live?  Did you?  Let me explain, because it’s fascinating to me.  When Thor and Tony first meet, they have a fist fight and Thor crushes Tony’s gold-titanium alloy suit like a tin can.  Later, in Avengers: Age of Ultron, Thor has Tony by the neck – the same hand that crushed his suit could have crushed his neck.  But Thor and Tony were friends and allies.  Thor had a reason to be gentle, so he made sure Tony could still talk.  What of Loki? Surely, Tony remembered a time when another Asgardian had a grip on his neck.  Loki may not be as strong as Thor, but he is still several times stronger than any human.  He was livid, he was seething when he grabbed Tony by the throat.  He should have crushed his neck accidentally in his rage.  Even so, he could have crushed his neck purposefully.  They were enemies after all.  But Loki grabbed him gently enough he could still speak to the bodiless servant JARVIS.  Loki took his time while Tony prepared his next suit, then threw Tony out the window when the suit was ready to catch him.  Why didn’t Loki kill Tony in the tower?  Even if he didn’t want to strangle him or snap his neck, there were a thousand different ways he could have killed him in that little room, what with his seidr magic, his Asgardian physiology, and his glow stick of destiny.

Speaking of Tony’s life, why didn’t Loki take control of him with the scepter?  The movie shows him trying, but let’s analyze the scene.  Tony has the arc reactor.  In its simplest terms, what is it: a battery.  Is it the most advanced technology on the planet?  At the time, Tony would have said yes, but Shuri would have laughed in his face.  What about in the galaxy?  The guardians would assure us it is not.  How about in the entire universe?  Certainly it is not.  On the other hand, Loki had the mind stone.  Tony didn’t know it at the time, the audience didn’t know it at the time, but Loki knew it.  The mind stone exists outside of time, before the universe began and after the next one ends, it will still exist.  This stone is supposed to have the power to control every mind in the universe at once.  Loki uses it to take one mind at a time, by pointing the scepter at one particular part of the sternum over the heart.  Are you telling me a little battery can stop an infinity stone?  Are you telling me that this stone can only reach a mind through that one tiny point when embedded in the scepter?  I think not.  I think Loki faked “performance issues”.  Perhaps he knew something.  Perhaps he just needed all the Avengers in fighting form so they could stop his army and send him back to Asgard (his true destiny).

Did Tony ponder any of this?  Did he compare the mind stone to the arc reactor when he learned what it was?  Did he consider that Loki maybe saved his life or let him live?  Did he start to realize that Loki had ulterior motives that didn’t involve earth and maybe orchestrated his own defeat?  None of this was revealed in the movies, so I can’t venture an answer.  What I can do is some fan fiction.

Loki and Tony at Avenger Tower

-Tony would be a surprising advocate for Tony.

-Seeing so many similarities between the two, Tony decides there must be hope for Loki as there was for himself.

-Tony decides to “adopt” Loki to help him integrate and reform.  He decides to keep his distance, however, because of Loki’s many advanced titles (prince, god, alien, etc).

-As Loki becomes comfortable in his new home, he and Tony start trying to “out-diva” each other – bigger entrances, better parties, etc.

-They often go out together – shoe shopping and manicures, that sort of thing. They both really enjoy the finer things in life.

-As Loki grows more comfortable with Tony, he starts introducing him to finer things from other worlds (the way Thor introduced Asgardian alcohol?)  He keeps a store of them in his dimensional pocket.

-After learning of Asgardian alcohol tolerance, Tony never again challenges Loki or Thor to a drinking contest.  The last one landed him in the hospital.

-They can vent to each other about any of the other Avengers because they both understand the tortured heart.  Sometimes, it is a sweet b**ch fest as they roll down the line of friends and offenses with each other over drinks.  They have to stop whenever anyone else enters in case of thin skins.

-They feed each others virtues and vices.  Others, especially Thor and Steve, are afraid of this friendship.

-When Loki starts joining missions, his actions often appear questionable to outright betrayal.  Tony is one of the few that stands by him and waits for an explanation.  Thor was never good at this part, so always assumed the worst of his brother.

-Loki is the best strategist so he manipulates others to behave how he sees fit on missions.  He doesn’t reveal his full plans to anyone, so he always appears suspicious.  Tony always gives him the benefit of the doubt.  Steve is especially bothered by this behavior.

-Tony and Loki pit their creative skills against each other to see who can give the better presents.  Winner based on reactions of onlookers, not just the gift receiver.

And so the fantasy continues.  I’d be interested in any input you have from any part of this post, as this is one relationship dynamic that continues to interest me.

[pass-the-bechdel]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Thor (2011)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, three times.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Three (21.42% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Eleven.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

The fun:boring ratio tilts considerably depending on audience mood and/or desire for originality; the majority of the story is generic in the extreme and can be tedious as a result, however those elements which are more unusual and intriguing arguably save the overall product. 

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Darcy asks Jane if she can turn on the radio. Jane tells Darcy to drive into the anomaly. Jane tells Darcy to stop talking about her iPod.

Female characters:

Jane Foster.

Darcy Lewis.

Sif.

Male characters:

Eric Selvig.

Odin.

Loki.

Thor.

Fandral.

Hogun.

Volstagg.

Heimdall.

Laufey.

Phil Coulson.

Clint Barton.

OTHER NOTES:

“But I supported you, Sif.” Good to know that Thor supports non-traditional gender roles, despite being such a macho cliche.

I’m really very concerned by Jane’s driving. Someone revoke her licence. 

“Son of Coul.”

Heimdall does not get enough credit for being the MVP of Asgard. 

Loki’s suggestion that maybe he’ll pay Jane a visit himself is clearly intended to goad Thor into fighting him and as such need not be taken seriously, but it’s still totally uncool. Of all the goading methods he could have used, we really didn’t need to go for the implied rape threat.

I thought they might manage a Bechdel pass between someone other than Jane and Darcy for a moment there at the end of the movie, but Frigga doesn’t actually get referred to by name in this movie, and she and Sif only talk about Thor anyway. Disappoint on both counts. I kinda also thought Jane and Darcy might do some more/better passing in general; it’s better than nothing, but the three passes they got were pretty freakin’ weak.

When it comes to uninspired, generic origin stories, this movie kinda makes Iron Man look like an innovative goldmine by comparison. ‘Arrogant man takes a humble, learns to value his power and earns it back through selflessness’, it’s...been done. A lot. And while Chris Hemsworth’s Thor is watchable and not without charm, he’s not an especially charismatic actor and the predictable arc of his character doesn’t offer much scope to impress, while the typically-excellent Natalie Portman suffers a similarly bland fate with prescription-love-interest Jane Foster. The chemistry between the two is pretty nonexistent, and frankly it’s easier to believe that Jane is a slightly-amoral scientist essentially using Thor for her own gain, rather than buying that she’s becoming genuinely enamoured. If the film had leaned into the idea of Jane Foster: Amoral Scientist a little stronger, they could have built a more interesting (though less comfortable) narrative and perhaps even a more believable romance as the two bond over their shared moral learning curve. But, that would require Jane’s character to be more of a priority beyond finding excuses for her to be in Thor’s presence and develop ~feelings~, so. Not shocked they failed to deliver there.

Pretty much every person who has ever seen this movie (and probably some who’ve only read about it) agrees that Tom Hiddleston’s Loki is where the fire’s at, both as an individual character and in terms of the plot he facilitates and inhabits. It’s not hard to understand why: while Thor has his dull human journey in the desert on Earth (the majority of which is spent just going places and talking to Jane and occasionally having a comedic ‘not from around here’ moment), Loki is a trickster God with magic powers living in the mythological land of Asgard and playing out a long con to win both the throne, and his adoptive father’s approval. Anything about the film that is clever or different or interesting, visually engaging, or emotionally poignant, it’s going on in Asgard, in the part of the plot where Thor is absent for the bulk of the film. Unfortunately, Thor’s absence from that thread means that we don’t get to spend nearly as much time enjoying it, and that’s why even the film’s best qualities can’t necessarily save it from the generic trash-pile. It’s easy to reach the end of the film in frustration, wondering how the Hell the strongest elements of the story (Shakespearean tragedy on alien worlds!) wound up as background noise to an unconvincing snooze-fest romance in Nowheresville, USA.

Broken into its component parts, Loki’s story isn’t that unfamiliar either; ‘jealous younger brother vies for older brother’s birthright’ has been done a fair bit (The Lion King being the most well-known example, let’s not kid ourselves), as has the juxtaposition of entitled brat vs scrappy underdog, as has ‘driven mad by envy’ and ‘power corrupts’ and pretty much any other trope being invoked in Loki’s lane. However, it works through 1. Hiddleston’s dynamic performance, 2. any and all majesty/intrigue/gravitas supplied by the setting, and 3. the additional factor of Loki discovering his adoption and true Frost Giant heritage. While it should not be ignored that Loki’s machinations for the throne predate that revelation and therefore it is neither an influence on his overarching ploy nor an excuse for him devising that ploy, Loki’s struggle with learning that his life as he’s known it was built on falsity and the way that complicates his desire to prove himself provides him some all-important nuance and pathos that gives the audience something to latch onto and identify with, even if only as empathetic understanding (one hopes that no one is going so far as to identify with the attempted genocide or the successful patricide; most of us can identify with betrayal/abandonment/daddy issues to some extent or another). Even if his ultimate decisions are plainly reprehensible, Loki’s journey to that point is littered with appreciable miseries, and that makes it an obvious emotional narrative standout compared to Thor’s paint-by-numbers excursion.

The villain narrative being the highlight of a story isn’t entirely unusual (though films in which this is unintentionally so tend also to be poorly conceived), but what’s really unfortunate is that Thor’s character motivations are not second in complexity to Loki’s; the criminally underused Heimdall is actually the next-most nuanced character around (and look at that, he’s also on Asgard and not bore-ing it up on Earth). The thing about Thor’s arc is that it’s not just predictable, it’s not just generic: it’s also barely there. We perceive the arc because we’re so familiar with the trope, but we don’t actually watch Thor learn anything, we don’t see practical signs of the degradation of his arrogance and his transformation into a wise warrior who understands restraint. Beyond causing a ruckus when he first arrives on Earth, Thor really doesn’t display any aggressive entitlement, he settles into pleasantly-strange-fish-out-of-water mode pretty much immediately, and he seems to ‘learn his lesson’ spontaneously after being told that his father is dead. He appears to mourn the implications of his inability to lift Mjolnir more than he is bothered by being told of Odin’s demise and that he can never go home; those latter revelations instead trigger his instantaneous reformation (insofar as he says the words “my father was trying to teach me something only I was too stupid to see it”) and that’s it. Confronting the destroyer and being ‘killed’ by it prompts the return of his Godhood, but refusing to shrink from a fight isn’t a change of pace for the character we saw at the beginning of the film; all in all, there’s no actual clear-cut learning in this process, there’s just a complication-free acceptance of his apparent new state of being, and that means he’s worthy of kingship now? Were they too afraid of making him dislikeable by playing out an excess of arrogance on Earth, so they softened him up immediately and in doing so, downgraded his character arc to just the concept of one rather than an actual presence? If there were more of a distinct process to his experiences on Earth, they’d be less damn boring, because we’d be following an actual story instead of just waiting for them to hit each predictable beat, and maybe they’d also generate some real characterisation of any of the Earth characters while they’re at it (instead, we have completely-useless-to-the-plot-comic-relief Darcy, and surrogate-dad-exposition-master Selvig, comprising the whole of Jane’s illustrious company). Thor’s clutch of friends back home may be a one-dimensional quartet defined almost entirely by their most obvious single descriptors (the female, the Asian, the fat guy, and...Sir Didymus), but at least they have a clear trajectory of plot-relevant motivation, even if they do become inconsequential by the end of it. Yeah, this isn’t a very good movie.

I said at the top that audience mood may be a deciding factor in the success or failure of the film, and I mean that in the sense that this is a movie that may prompt vastly different responses in the same person over different viewings; speaking for myself, I have watched it and been basically entertained and appreciative of the visuals and at least some of the characters and story elements, but I’ve also watched it and been overwhelmingly bored by the trite predictability and the flat characterisation of most of the players, and unimpressed by the soft-focus CGI of Asgard. Caught in the right mood, Thor’s inexplicable laid-back Earth persona can hit just the right note for casual comfort viewing. Caught in the wrong mood, Loki’s Asgard shenanigans feel over-hyped and not engaging enough to save the movie. Is Jane too bland, or full of shades of untapped character potential? Is Darcy funny, or painfully annoying? Is Heimdall intriguing, or too nebulous to matter? It all comes off very conditional, little of it anchored solidly or fleshed out strongly enough in-text to be considered an absolute. The plot floats, dependent on the aura of various cliches rather than categorically declaring itself in any unequivocal ways. It’s not particularly messy, so at least it has that going for it, but even that is a conditional statement. The film is rarely subtle enough to develop any depth, and the shallow invocations of the idea of a narrative arc lack the conviction necessary to make simplicity a virtue. The end result? I guess the best word for it is ‘forgettable’. 

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Snow Storm

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): Avengers/Loki

Rating: PG

Original Idea: I wrote this a couple days before Thanksgiving when this was going around Tumblr and picked one that would feasibly work.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I very rarely write Loki one-shots on this blog. Often I submit them to Imagine Loki with one of their imagines, but this one was just all me without any of their inspiration. This is one of the longest one-shots I’ve ever written for this blog, just over 3,000 words. Because I felt the need to have context *blows raspberry*

^^^^^

Loki and I wrapped our coats tighter around our bodies and ran out of the store to my car, feeling snow lightly strike our faces. I unlocked the SUV from a few feet away and we piled in. I jammed the key in the ignition, turned it, and cranked up the heater. “Is this you?” I asked him as I struggled to find my seatbelt behind me, referring to the weather.

“I thought it was you,” he commented.

I gave him a sarcastic look. “I'm not a Frost Giant!” I retorted sarcastically.

If anyone else had said that to him, he probably would have unsheathed his dagger and stabbed them remorselessly. As it was, I said it—and for some reason he had a soft spot for me—so he actually grinned. “Alright, fair point,” he conceded.

“C’mon, let’s get this stuff over to Tony and Pepper before this storm gets any worse,” I said, backing out of the parking space and beginning the drive over to the secret Stark apartment near where Queens, Brooklyn, and Manhattan were closest to each other, but on the Queens/Brooklyn side of the river. In fact, the large apartment was in Queens but Brooklyn was close.

“I thought you were skilled at driving in the snow,” Loki pointed out. “You grew up in a place with bad winters, yes?”

“Oh yeah. I'm great at driving in the snow—even without four-wheel drive. I've been driving in the snow almost every winter since I was sixteen so I'm used to it. The problem is, a lot of other people in this city aren’t as used to it. And New York is so crammed that they don’t really have anywhere to put all the snow once it’s been plowed. That’s what worries me,” I replied, gripping my steering wheel so tight my knuckles were probably white under my gloves.

“Fair point,” Loki repeated.

I drove through the borough, hating every second of it. I was more comfortable that I wasn’t in Manhattan, but that didn’t mean I liked driving in New York. I really didn’t. I avoided it whenever possible.

We reached the secret New York side residence of Tony and his fiancée and dropped off several tote bags-worth of party supplies that he’d asked me to pick up for an event he refused to share any information for. I was guessing it was the Avengers Holiday Party. Tony thanked us and sent us on our way.

“I’ll take you back to your place,” I told Loki as we got in the car. In the last several minutes of unloading alone the snow had gotten heavier, now sticking more firmly to the ground.

“Alright,” Loki said as he did up his seatbelt.

Loki maintained an apartment in Queens that was as close to Manhattan as it could be—and he’d had it since before the Battle of New York several years before. I wasn’t sure why he had it, but he visited Earth enough to warrant keeping it, I guessed.

I pulled into his parking space—since he didn’t have a car and told me to—and parked the car. “Well, thanks for running so many errands with me today. I’ll see you… tomorrow, right?”

Loki peered out the window. “It’s really coming down out there,” he observed. “Why don’t you come in for a while? See if the storm slows down.”

“Nah. I'm fine,” I dismissed, convincing myself more than him.

“No. Seriously. I have a bad feeling about you driving all alone in the dark in a storm.”

“Loki—”

“Please,” he interrupted.

I blinked in surprise. Manners? From Loki? Well, that wasn’t too uncommon since he’d… reformed, for lack of a better word, but he sounded so sincere and genuinely concerned that it completely threw me off.

“I’ll make some cocoa too,” he added as an afterthought.

I smiled and rolled my eyes. “Okay. I’ll come in and wait for it to lighten up,” I relented.

As I turned the car off and searched the backseat for my bag with one arm bent awkwardly backward, Loki circled around the front of the car and opened my door for me. “My lady,” he said.

I snorted as I let him help me out so I wouldn’t fall. “Thank you, Your Highness,” I replied as I locked my car.

We both chuckled as he held my hand on the way inside since I nearly slipped on my car’s wet foothold. Once we were through the door a blast of heat hit us. I sighed with relief at the sensation of my skin thawing out. Loki let go of my hand to allow me to take off my gloves—and to press the call button for the elevator.

Up in his apartment, we shed our coats and Loki made cocoa—heating the milk on the stove instead of in the microwave. Which I thought was strange but decided not to say anything about. Some people just made hot cocoa that way. I'd seen it before but it was still strange.

While the milk was heating up he dug out a wonderfully soft green blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Your face is red,” he observed, leaning against the counter across from me.

“Just cold,” I replied with a shrug.

When he finished the cocoa, he handed me a mug. I wrapped my hands around it, absorbing as much heat from it as I could.

He held up the TV remote. “You don’t mind do you? Just want to check the weather.”

“Not at all. Go ahead.”

He turned on the TV and flicked it over to the ten o’clock news. “—freak snowstorm that’s currently hitting New York City. The worst of it seems to be in Queens, which is great for all those in Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Staten Island, but not so much for those in Queens. Since this one sprang from nowhere, we can’t estimate an inch-amount, but given how hard it’s coming down right now, I'd say we might reach over a foot of snow. I hope everyone’s home and safe or following reasonable precautions. It doesn’t look like it’s going to let up at all tonight, so sorry to anyone who had plans,” the weather lady said.

Loki turned the TV off. “That doesn’t sound good,” he remarked nonchalantly.

I chewed my lip, nervous. “Maybe I should head home before it gets any worse,” I muttered.

“No. Just wait and see if it lets up a little. If it doesn’t, you're more than welcome to stay here.”

“Thanks Loki, but really, I should get home.”

“You just got here. At least finish your cocoa first,” he protested.

I took a sip of the mostly-full mug. “Okay,” I relented.

“While you're here, is it alright if I pick your brain a bit?” he asked.

“Sure. Can’t guarantee I’ll be any help, but sure.”

He grinned. “Thank you. I, er, I was wondering how you maintain your relationship with your family. Mine is just sort of… always in chaos. And since my mother died a few years ago… nothing’s been the same.”

I pursed my lips and nodded, taking a sip of the cocoa—which was delicious—to give myself a moment to think. “Really the best way is open communication and unconditional love.”

Loki scoffed. “Open communication has never been my family’s forte,” he informed me.

“That explains why it’s so chaotic,” I said, punctuating my point with another drink.

We talked a while more while I drank my cocoa. Loki sipped at his but didn’t seem too invested in it. I guessed it was because he was a Frost Giant under his Asgardian appearance and too much heat was probably uncomfortable for him. I didn’t ask if I was right or not, because no one was allowed to ask him about being a Frost Giant, not even me.

At some point we migrated from the kitchen to the living room, sitting next to each other on the sofa almost too close for anyone else’s comfort. We just always had done so since we felt safe in each other’s company—neither of us would judge the other.

Loki wrapped his arm around me as we stared out the window. If anything, the snow was just falling harder.

“Why did you choose me?” Loki asked.

“What do you mean?”

“When you first joined the Avengers, you made friends with everyone, and yet time and again you choose to spend your time with me—the maniac who destroyed half of Manhattan. Why?”

I made a face. “We’re more alike than you think,” I admitted.

Loki snorted. “I don’t think we could be any more different, darling. You're kind and sweet and gentle. And I'm—”

“Cold and bitter?” I suggested. Loki nodded. I scoffed. “Perhaps you are. But Thor has told me many stories of your childhood. You were undoubtedly the nicer of the two of you. I know what it’s like to be the younger sibling of a person who takes up all the attention of everyone else, trust me. I may not be as broken as you are, but I'm not as whole as you think.” I brushed my hair out of my face. The snow had made the top of it slightly damp. Then I set my hand on Loki’s knee. “We’re not as different as you think. You haven't seen me in a battle yet. And let’s just say I'm an Avenger for a reason.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Yup.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I always figured you pitied me.”

“Maybe I did once. But you're smart and have a better heart than you let the others see, and I liked that more than I like the others. Don’t get me wrong I love the team, but I can get a little fed up with Captain Boy Scout, Iron Arrogant, Prince Dramasgard, Cryptic Widow, Dr. BanNerd, and Hawkdry. How refreshing to have someone more like me around.”

We lapsed into silence, watching the snow fall.

I ran out of hot chocolate and glanced at my watch. 11PM. “Oh boy it’s late. I should really be getting home.”

As I moved to get up, Loki took my hand—not my wrist as he usually would. “Don’t go. It’s dangerous. I have a really bad feeling about you driving this late in this storm. Please. Just stay the night.”

“I don’t have… like, pajamas or a toothbrush or anything.”

He smirked. “Lucky you I have extras.”

“Oh yeah—like your pajamas would fit me,” I remarked sarcastically.

Loki chuckled. “Don’t worry, they will. They’ll just be a little long.” He stood up and guided me by the hand to his bedroom. I'd been in his room a few times. It was painted a pale goldenrod with a rich maroon bedspread and armchair and mahogany furniture. It never failed to make me feel slightly awkward to be in his room. I didn’t belong in there.

He rifled through the top drawer of his dresser and extracted some pajamas—or sleeping clothes as he’d called them once. He passed them to me. “Try these on. They should fit.”

I went into the bathroom and stripped out of my jeans and sweater and pulled the pajamas on, leaving my bra on underneath.

The shirt was so long it fell to my knees. It was green and softer than any clothing I'd ever worn before—softer than anything had a right to be. It made me sleepy just to put it on. The loose brown-and-green plaid trousers were way too long on me, but at least they fit even though I was nowhere near as slim as Loki was.

Once I left the bathroom, Loki offered me a brand-new toothbrush still in the packaging. “There’s toothpaste in the drawer on the right,” he informed me. I accepted it, brushed my teeth, and then went out into the living room, readying a throw pillow on the sofa and the blanket he’d given me before searching for a few more blankets. He was a Frost Giant—he kept his apartment pretty cold. I did too at night, but I liked being bundled up.

He was so quiet and I was so wrapped up in my quest for blankets that I didn’t realize he’d returned.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

“Getting ready for bed,” I answered confusedly.

He pointed over his shoulder. “No, you're staying in the bedroom,” he countered.

“No I'm not,” I replied. “I'm sleeping on the couch.”

“No you're not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Darling, you are going to stay in the bedroom. It’s just one night.”

“But that’s your room.”

“That I rarely stay in.”

“But it’s still your bedroom—and I'd be lying if I didn’t admit that would make me feel a little weird.”

“Well would it help you if we just shared the bedroom?” Loki exclaimed in frustration.

“Yes,” I said decisively. My eyebrows scrunched. “Wait… what?”

“It’s settled then. We’ll just share.”

Filthy manipulator, I thought angrily to myself. “No,” I pressed. “I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

But Loki wasn’t listening. He’d already grabbed my wrist—and I realized he was in pajamas remarkably similar to the ones I was borrowing—and was dragging me gently back to the bedroom. “Too bad. You’ve already settled the matter,” he argued.

“Loki…” I warned.

“Look, darling, it’s one night and I doubt I’ll even touch you—especially not without your consent. The bed is far more comfortable than the sofa anyway.” As he spoke, he pulled open the bedroom door and let me go, inviting me in with a sweep of his hand. I screwed up my face in frustration. If I tried to go back to the sofa, he’d just catch me and pull me back, and he was so stubborn that I wouldn’t be able to talk him out of this—for some reason—so I debated for a moment before crossing the threshold.

He came in too. “Which side would you prefer?” he asked, leaving the door open.

“Don’t care. Farthest from the window is fine,” I answered.

“Alright then.” He flung the covers on the side I'd chosen down, circled the bed, and crawled in on the side next to the window. I rolled my eyes, turned off the light, and got in.

I felt far more comfortable in the darkness. Like he couldn’t judge me if he couldn’t see me. Wearing his pajamas—which were ridiculously comfortable—was a bit odd, but I was getting so tired that I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I rolled onto my left side, so I was facing his back, and closed my eyes, drifting off to sleep.

^^^^^

Loki sensed her go to sleep as her body relaxed. A grin tugged on the corners of his face as he gently rolled onto his other side to look at her.

In sleep she was peaceful. She looked adorably small in her borrowed Asgardian pajamas—which were also too long on him—and her long eyelashes looked like wisps of shadows on her face. Her gentle breathing made her chest and side rise and fall.

She had no idea. It was kind of adorable.

Loki wasn’t the God of Lies for nothing. Of course it was his Frost Giant powers that were making the snow storm so severe. He just… he just wanted her to stay. She was the only Midgardian he enjoyed being around. He felt like she never judged him. He liked her company more than any other currently-alive being’s—even his brother’s. She was just bright—both in the smart way and the happy way—and smiley. It made him feel better.

The God of Mischief grinned as he closed his eyes, adjusted his position slightly, and also fell asleep.

^^^^^

Warmth surrounded me when I woke up. Through my closed eyelids I could see morning light. Some sort of pressure was on my right arm—the side exposed to the air—and my forehead was brushing something soft.

I was really comfortable. The pajama trousers I was wearing were bunched up around my knees and the overlong shirt I wore was twisted around my body, but other than that, I didn’t even want to move. I could feel my hair under my face and my arm under a pillow that was too cushy to be mine. I used a firm pillow because otherwise my neck would ache.

Where was I? What was that pressure? I didn’t want to move—or wake up—but I was curious.

I peeled my eyes open—

And it took everything I had not to shriek from being startled.

Loki was peacefully sleeping only an inch from my face. My forehead had been brushing a lock of his hair. His arm was flung over my shoulder and his eyes were closed. I realized, up-close-and-personal, that his eyelashes were almost as long as mine.

Slowly, I eased out from under his arm, trying to keep him asleep.

Fail.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Morning beautiful,” he greeted.

“I really wish you’d stop calling me endearments when we’re just friends,” I commented.

“Are we, though? Just friends?”

“Um… yeah. I think we are.”

“Would you be open to more?”

“I'm not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?” he asked blearily.

“Because we just woke up. I don’t make good choices when I just barely woke up,” I retorted, moving to climb out of the bed.

Loki gently took my hand and tugged me back. “Nooo,” he complained. “Stay. You're so warm.”

I snorted. “No I'm not. I generate so little body heat I get cold the second the temperature dips lower than seventy-three degrees.”

“And I'm a Frost Giant who generates little body heat myself, love. But together we’re nice and cozy.”

“If I wasn’t with you all night last night I'd wonder if you had a hangover or something,” I remarked. “You very nearly sound drunk. Honestly, where is this all coming from? Why are you asking me if I'd be open to more now?”

“Because sleeping next to someone for a long time promotes trust—and I've been mildly in love with you for months.”

“What?!”

[aion-rsa]

Marvel’s What If…?: The Huge MCU Ramifications of Episode 2’s Ravagers Lineup

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This article contains spoilers for Marvel’s What If…? episode 2.

Marvel’s What If…? episode 2 was already a big deal due to it being the late Chadwick Boseman’s final performance as T’Challa. “What If… T’Challa Became Star-Lord” is definitely a bittersweet half hour, showing the would-be Black Panther turning the Ravagers into a force for good and having a truly positive effect on the universe itself.

In this reality, Yondu didn’t personally oversee the kidnapping of Peter Quill as he did in the opening moments of Guardians of the Galaxy, and instead let Kraglin and Taserface take care of the task. They came across a young T’Challa, saw something unique in him, and figured they had the right kid. Fast-forward a few decades and T’Challa is a galactic hero to the point that Korath the Pursuer can’t help but geek out upon seeing him in person.

It’s shortly after this confrontation that we see the biggest bombshell in the timeline. While the episode indeed comes with plenty of sentimentality thanks to Boseman’s wonderful performance, it does bury a pretty major lede: the Ravagers include none other than Thanos in their ranks, with Josh Brolin reprising the role. Yes, the biggest villain of the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe had a change of heart, and it changed pretty much everything else in the MCU timeline.

Thanos

At first glance, you’d think that T’Challa recruiting Korath would go up the ladder and eventually lead to Thanos, but not so much. Instead Korath is the newest member. That in itself suggests that Ronan the Accuser would have been searching for the Power Stone with or without Thanos being his benefactor. Ronan’s fate in this reality is left a mystery.

In what is considered to be one of Star-Lord’s greatest adventures in this reality, he crossed paths with the Mad Titan and battled him with words. Through debate and logic, T’Challa was able to explain to Thanos that his plan to destroy half of all life in the universe was in fact evil nonsense and there was a better way. Thanos was swayed by these words and chose to serve T’Challa as a member of the Ravagers, helping make the universe a better place without all the random slaughter.

Although he gets ribbed for his genocidal notions, Thanos does still think there was merit in his scheme and refuses to fully disown his behavior. It’s all incredibly ironic. In regular continuity, Star-Lord gets a lot of blame for allowing Thanos to succeed. Change the man under the helmet and Star-Lord is suddenly the best deterrent against the same threat.

Nebula and Gamora

Thanos being reformed means that he can’t really be torturing his adopted children and forcing them to assassinate people. There is no mention of Gamora, but considering she wanted to escape Thanos and all he stood for in Guardians of the Galaxy, it’s likely that she simply got as far away from him as possible.

Nebula is a different story. Blue skin aside, she’s shown with a more human (and even glamorous) look, albeit with cybernetic markings over one eye. Her behavior around Thanos shows that he did indeed torment her, but T’Challa intervened before it could have been much, much worse both physically and emotionally. Nebula hates Thanos with a passion, but not enough to dedicate her life to revenge.

Instead, Nebula is living her own life. One where she’s in debt to the Collector, but still her life is completely her own. She’s affiliated with the Ravagers, even if that means having to interact with her adopted father.

Really, Thanos and Nebula replace Yondu and Quill’s role with the broken parental relationship that finds its way in the end. The two do eventually bury the hatchet due to Thanos’ heroics and Nebula is later shown to be more embarrassed by her father’s behavior than furious.

A World Without Avengers

What about Earth? T’Challa spends much of his life thinking that Wakanda is gone, which would have tracked for a What If…? story, where zigging instead of zagging so easily leads to things like planets exploding. Not only do we discover that Wakanda is totally fine (with T’Chaka still its king), but so is the rest of Earth. Granted, all we really see is the Dairy Queen that Peter Quill works at, but there aren’t any red flags on the surface.

At the same time, the Collector’s special weapons collection raises some questions. While he uses Hela’s headdress at one point, we do see that Captain America’s shield and Mjolnir are in there. Mjolnir certainly is an exclamation point because, well, how did it even get there and how is the Collector able to presumably wield it?

The happenings on Earth would indeed be incredibly different without Thanos trying to get all six Infinity Stones. Without Thanos, there would be no Loki-led invasion. Without that, there would be no Avengers. The Dark Elves would still be stopped with or without Loki’s involvement, but eventually, Thor would be dumped by Jane. In this reality, it would be logical to say that Jane was Thor’s only major tether to Earth, meaning he would have no need to stick around. He would also have no reason to hunt for the Infinity Stones.

Not sure about Captain America, though. There’s nothing really getting in the way of him stopping HYDRA and enacting the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier. The Collector would have to be going out of his way to get his hands on that shield, since Steve Rogers wouldn’t be traveling the cosmos in this reality. Unless the lack of Avengers means he joins SWORD or something.

Either way, without Thanos mucking things up, Earth ends up without an Avengers roster, but with no noticeable issues that come from it. Hell, without the Mind Stone being thrown into the mix, there’s no Ultron, Wanda Maximoff gets to live without becoming the harbinger of doom, and Baron Zemo has no reason to be angry (ergo, no need to assassinate the King of Wakanda). Not bad.

Happy Drax

Instead of being Drax the Destroyer, Drax is a mere bartender and happy family man with sensitive nipples. He credits Star-Lord and the Ravagers for saving his people from a Kree invasion. Since the mainstream Drax considers Thanos to be the puppet master behind Ronan’s doings, it’s very possible that it was this adventure that led to T’Challa meeting Thanos.

Then again, as mentioned earlier, Ronan would have gone for the Power Stone with or without Thanos. It stands to reason that he would have invaded Drax’s world, even without Thanos calling the shots.

Regardless, that’s another violent vendetta cleansed from the timeline.

The Black Order

Ebony Maw, Cull Obsidian, Proxima Midnight, and Corvus Glaive are no longer part of Thanos’ grand plan. Without their cult-like purpose in the galaxy, the Black Order instead end up working for the Collector. Goons gonna goon.

It is rather surprising to see that despite Thanos’ spot as their feared leader in regular continuity, even he is no match for taking on Cull Obsidian and Proxima Midnight at the same time.

Peter Quill and the One Caveat

Things end very well across the board. Almost too well. Even while the first episode showed that Captain Carter would have been a more efficient choice than Captain America, there were still drawbacks to her existence and tragedy still occurred. We really need the same kind of treatment to keep the narrative from beating us over the head with how Peter Quill is a totally lame failure compared to his alt universe replacement.

Having never left Earth, Peter Quill works at Dairy Queen. For some reason, actors from Parks and Recreation who play roles in the MCU end up working for ice cream chains. Go figure.

He’s never put in a position to wield the Power Stone and get his name out there. That doesn’t stop his father, Ego the Living Planet, from tracking him down himself and making him aware of his purpose. This is a cliffhanger that suggests extremely disastrous consequences. Without the Guardians of the Galaxy, there’s virtually nothing to stop Ego from using Peter to fulfill his so-called destiny.

The Ravagers may have helped the universe in so many ways, but it’s very possible that the bill is coming due.

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[worstloki]

Okay, this is gettin’ real screwed up here.

I watch a lot of TV. Probably too much. And I’ve seen characters beaten to their knees before, sometimes even with collars. And yeah, there’s usually someone standing over them, and it’s been a woman sometimes. The kind of scene we got in episode 5 of Loki is not new ground.

But here’s the thing. In EVERY OTHER SCENE I can remember like this, the person kneeling is the hero. They’ve been brought down, fully humbled before the sneering villain, and in a few minutes something will happen to get them back on their feet again. It’s usually a tense moment, a “what if they break?” that makes you want the hero to win. You aren’t rooting for, or even liking in some cases, the person standing. You’re cheering for the person on their knees.

This doesn’t seem to be the case with the Loki show. Yes, the viewers may be rooting for Loki, but there’s no hatred for Sif there. She’s not proved herself to be a cold, heartless villain, ruthlessly pounding the hero until all he can do is kneel at her feet.

Except…she did kind of do that. But it isn’t treated as something bad. It’s treated more as something Loki deserved, in my opinion. The show wants us to feel like he deserved to get repeatedly beaten up and told horrible things, just for cutting off a lock of Sif’s hair. I’ll grant, it’s peanuts compared to what happened to him in the mythology. But it’s still bad. Especially since they had him acknowledge it, repeat her cruel words back. They’re playing it off as if Loki is still the villain by himself, and is only good because of other people- Mobius, mostly, but Sif is part of that.

That’s not the way Loki’s character is. In the comics particularly, his biggest arcs are always about reinventing the labels given to him, changing “villain” into something good, something he can use, and doing it by himself. Yes, there’s outside influence, but ultimately Loki is the one who decided to change.

The show is not letting him do that. The show is portraying him as a stubborn jackass who refuses to change until other people show him the light- either with psychological torture presented as therapy, or with beating him up a bunch of times until he gives in. The show and its characters are forcing Loki to become good- they aren’t showing him doing it by himself. He is not becoming one of the good guys, he’s being essentially enslaved by them, and the show is passing it off as somehow all that good influence finally rubbed off on Loki’s cold, villainous heart. That’s why him betraying Mobius was shown as so bad even though Loki barely knew him and had been psychologically tortured by him- Mobius is written as a character who can choose to be good, and Loki is written as a character who must be forced to be good.

And something about an entire show revolving around an independent character being treated as a villain, literally enslaved by the “good guys” (back when the show still wanted us to think the TVA weren’t shady as all hell), beaten to his knees with a collar around his neck until he accepts that he deserves to be alone because he isn’t “good” like everybody else…that doesn’t go down right for me.

The TVA being presented in not just a neutral but often reliable light is something I thought would change once Loki literally called out their propaganda and Sylvie called them fascists, but, for some reason the authoritarian genocidalists are not being presented as a bad thing and it irks me too.

It's especially weird because of the way what Loki claims to have wanted by making choices for people and what Mobius claims the TVA do ARE THE EXACT SAME THINGS, except Loki, until the show, hadn't done that of his own volition and was being tortured during the invasion and is treated terribly for something he didn't even succeed in doing, while the TVA successfully erase events on a mass scale but are presented as having a higher (or at best, - equal) moral ground.

The exact same thing was done in Ragnarok where Loki's "turning point" from a tricksy villainous scoundrel happened because Thor left him frying on the ground and gave him a pep talk filled with lies and general slander about how he could be better - and people see that as good because Thor is framed as a hero, and it's because instead of accepting Loki is a complex character they take what the narrative tells at face value and that is that Loki fights the protagonist(s) so he's bad.

I personally don't like the narrative pushing a character that is canonically an abuse victim and attempted suicide and was tortured right after as someone who needs fixing because he's lusting for power and needs it to gain a sense of control during a retcon which is occurring for the sake of calling him a complete bad guy who needs to change (probably because no actual original character development could be thought of?) after he was just confirmed as queer and colloquially (i assume) called a narcissist because of twisted love.

That he deserves to be alone was presented neutrally as a joke even as he was repeatedly getting beaten to the ground, and then both people he could call friends were removed from his immediate vicinity right after.

Loki isn't being presented as a character that has done a huge mix of good and bad in the movies, he's being presented as an oft incompetent idiot that deserves what he gets because he shouldn't have run away from captors, or he cut Sif's hair, or he killed his mother, or he dared to think he had any importance or could do something good, because the truth is he's an evil lying scourge.

"But maybe," Mobius says, "Maybe he wants to mix it up. Sometimes you get tired of playing the same part. Is that possible? He can change?" And everyone's already forgotten that moments before the mission Mobius said to Loki's face that the TVA has pruned a lot of Loki variants because he's so nice! look! he has hope in him when no one else does! It's also easy to forget the "and hey, if it doesn't work, I'll delete him myself," right after because the guy was smiling through it and the scene is followed by Loki really badly trying to explain the logic of being a trickster who everyone knows is a trickster.

A lot of people payed more attention in Ragnarok than to the other Thor movies so it's not a new retcon and people seem fine with the extremely strange take that 'loki is bad but he can do good sometimes,' because the character is more animated and acts foolish and that's generally more fun for comedy, which is fair for people to prefer imo, people find different things entertaining.

But I do solidly hope the show doesn't go that way though and takes a side with Loki on the narrative stance eventually because I've seen a lot of people who just. miss that the TVA's concept is bad. And those who think they're "reforming" Loki. As if the guy needs anything but a break at this point lmao he only got away from Thanos like 2 days ago please just let him rest for a bit he's a fail villain and it's cringe to have your supposed 1st open queer character get beaten to a pulp by Sif and then put wack sexualizing shots for it too :/

it's like the show itself is trying to sell the angle of "Loki is a villain" and I'm a clown who is still wanting that to be intentional because if it is? It could be amazing and playing with how different parties are framed would be s p e c t a cu l ar and could encourage people to reassess the hero coding in other movies including ones Loki was previously in - but we're reaching the last two episodes and I don't feel like that'll happen.

I feel like even if Loki does reach the end of the show as a transformed person it'll be done leaving the audience with "perhaps you're not so bad after all, Loki," and then also give credit to Mobius or Sylvie or whoever else was involved, simply because as even of yet Loki hasn't taken on a lead role in the show. I'd argue he hasn't really contributed anything worthwhile to plot either. As you've said, he's being shown as someone who needs to change but isn't really motivated to. Aw man they better not make romantic love the reason he wants to change.