Of course, a costume hadn’t been a challenge, if a costume was what one could call Loki’s illusion.
He made his way through the droves of partying Humans on the night they celebrated that the veil between their world and that of the dead was at its thinnest. Not entirely unexpected, he ran into someone he knew.
“Hey, long time no see,” Loki was greeted, and swiftly the person offered, “want to pull some mischief, like we did in the good, old days?”
“Considering all that Mother Nature has done to Midgard this year, I would say one more accident shall not matter.”
---
A/N: Have a request for a Six Sentence Story? Feel free to drop by in my askbox :)
Lost my Muse to write and found it in some mushroom stew.
Yeah, you read that right. Loki's Pet Tiger lost her muse. I haven't been able to finish the Sex Pollen fic yet! But don't fret! I got creative and hoped that if I did some witchy cooking I could spell my muse back. I made some delicious mushroom stew.
***Keep reading for the recipe
It was so worth it. Not only did it taste absolutely delightful, but I got my muse back! I was able to work on the sex pollen fic more. I just have to finish it up. Might have another one or two pages in me left for that one before it ends. Then I will edit it and get it out to you all to enjoy.
Because I love you, and I'm a good pet Tiger, I thought I would leave the recipe here for you all to enjoy. If you ever lose your muse, maybe the mushroom stew will help you find it again.
Mushroom Muse Stew:
1 Tbsp. Olive Oil
2 tsp. fresh chopped rosemary
8 oz. baby bella mushrooms
8 oz. white mushrooms
1 can peeled, diced tomatoes
2 cloves garlic
White wine vinegar
2 tsp. paprike
1 c. sour cream
2 Tbsp. flour
chopped parsley
In a pot, or a deep skillet heat oil and add onions and rosemary. Cook until lightly browned. WHITE WINNEEEEE-- maybe a tablespoon, then add your shrooms. Saute those fuckers for 5 minutes. Salt it and pepper to get the ghosties out. Cover with 1.5 c. water add that pap and dem toms. Cover and cook on low to simmer for thirty minutes.
In a small bowl mix your flour and enough COLD water until you can stir it smooth, then add your sour cream. Mix well.
Once your timer goes off for the shroomy witchy stew, add the sour cream mixture. Cha cha. Summon the spirits you want there-- yo average wind, water, fire, earth and such. Bring back to a boil.
Finally add some pizzazz if you want. I used chow mein noodles, but you could use dumplings, quinoa, the evil next door neighbor’s fingers. BE CREATIVE!
Then eat it up! Offer some to the Norse god of Mischief of course before you dig in!
Happy Thanksgiving Loki~! I know you probably don't celebrate that holiday, but it's a day to remind yourself what you're grateful for and spend time with the people you care about. I know Midgard isn't your home, but...if you want. I'd love to celebrate Thanksgiving with you. Because, I'm grateful to have met you. (Ooc: you don't have to reply to this. I just thought Loki should get some Thanksgiving wishes too.)
"Yes, I've heard of such."
The god says in a light voice, his long torso cover by a dark grey sweater, the fabric seeming soft and tightly woven.
The Thanksgiving party at the compound had finally came to a cool down. bellies full, yet the smell of pumpkin and spices lingered in the air with the touch of alcohol.
Loki seemed to be giving the question actual thought as he stood silent for a mere moment.
"I suppose finding the odd ounce of gratitude is healthy for a sound mind."
Loki stood in place, drawing shapes on his palm with his long index finger. Green eyes observing his own pale skin in thought only to be interrupted by his brother's snoring as he lay flat on his back on the black leather of the living room couch.
Loki turned to look over his shoulder to the passed out thunder god, long wavy black hair tide up in a loose bun now visible as he raised a brow at the blonde.
He gave a light hearted scoff and gently shook his head.
"I'm thankful for many things, at this point in my life."
A/N: For my friend @mal-0 who writes an awesome Grandmaster. Brought to you by the weekend game from @creativepromptsforwriting (I got number 152)
“Next party game: seven minutes in Heaven!” The Grandmaster’s voice echoed through the room. “Oh, I like this one. Not- Not my favorite, but close. Close indeed!” The man smiled while waving the little paper he had just pulled from a hat.
As if this hadn’t been forty five minutes of Hell already, Loki thought bitterly.
“Well? Who’s up?” The Grandmaster prompted. “Lokes? You perhaps? I know- I know how much you like games.”
The wolvish grin the other displayed sent shivers down Loki’s spine. “I am sure someone else ah... desires this game more than I do, Grandmaster,” he said cloyingly sweet and smiled.
No, no, no! Loki’s thoughts were stuck on the word, but if his words hadn’t persuaded the man-
“Oh Loki, come now,” The Grandmaster urged sweetly. “You wouldn’t- For me?”
A colorful array of words shot through Loki’s mind and dread settled deep within his soul. He had hoped to be able sit this night out, because what the Grandmaster identified as games, Loki described as humiliation. But there simply wasn’t telling the Grandmaster ‘no’. Not unless he wanted it returned in ten-fold later.
With a fake smile plastered on his face, Loki stood, and with dragging feet he walked to the stage.
A/N: for my lovely rp-partner @seesbetterfromadistance who longed for some frosthawk 😘
Clint was unraveling at the seams; he knew he was, yet, he couldn't do a single thing about it.
And once again it was all Loki's fault!
The man's face was always there, always in his mind. Be it in the night, filling his dreams, or be it in the morning when he woke from his slumber. The mischievous grin which lit up those green eyes was burned on his retina, constantly making the archer lose focus on the simplest of tasks.
But was it such a bad thing to wake up next to the God every morning?
A/N: Thank the Norns for that two second trailer which lifted my writers block for a bit. Yet, it doesn’t mean I’m back on my bullshit, but it was definitely nice to string words again. I want to thank everybody for their ravenous replies when I yesterday posted I might have a little drabble inspired on that trailer. You made my evening :3
Warnings: I should say minor character death, but it’s really another NPC getting killed...
“I’m going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki threatened, a smirk playing on his lips. Yet he made it sound as if his threat was just another sentence of conversation. It was. Leaning back in his chair, even with chained wrists and clothed in itchy attire (which was more of an offense than this entire interrogation), the God was in full control of the situation.
The other occupant of the table probably thought the opposite. “I highly doubt it,” it said.
The creature looked awfully normal, almost Human or Aesir. Yet, Loki wasn’t one to be easily fooled. He knew better. Time Variance Authority, or T.V.A. shortened, they called themselves. In the God’s opinion these agents were a laughable and pathetic lot.
If only they knew…
Loki scoffed. “Do you even know who I am?”
“Yes,” the agent confirmed and called forth a file on a device embedded in the table and read out loud. “Loki Laufeyson, Frost Giant; raised as Loki Odinson, Aesir; self-proclaimed God of Mischief and Lies; supposed to be ruler of Terra and Asgard-”
Loki eyed the room inconspicuous and only paid half attention as the list got ticked off. Most of it didn’t interest him, a great deal of the list was false, or the accusations hadn’t even happened. Yet. (Probably.)
“Killed by Thanos in the year-” there was a brief pause before the Human looking creature carelessly concluded with a shrug, “That has yet come to pass.”
The only sign that Loki was affected by that revelation was the slight narrowing of his green eyes, but his smile didn’t waver.
Not that he didn’t know what would come to pass to another of his selves. Oh, he knew! And he had chosen to stay as far away as possible from that event. Of course he had considered meddling with that verse, but he knew if he would do so, there would be no end to it and it would bring him the same fate as Loki from the verse of topic.
Death!
No, the reason they had brought him in wasn’t because he had had a taste for vengeance. The God was more cunning, shrewd and smarter than that.
“And of what am I being accused?” Loki practically purred, knowing the answer already.
“You broke the rules of time-travel. You’re jeopardizing the universe.” The creature looked up from the device. “You’re a dangerous person.”
“Flattering,” the God countered, the smirk still playing on his lips. Then he leaned forward, his eyes on the other and with a hushed, dark voice he spoke his demand, “Tell me…” Loki paused, and as expected it gained the effect he wanted.
Curious and foolish enough, the agent leaned in a little closer to hear what their prisoner wanted to ask. Yet, it would never know. A white flash lit up the room and the agent toppled backward, crashing to the floor.
Slowly, Loki raised from his seat, the chains melting away from his wrists, the itchy and ridiculous garb he was wearing making place for his leather armour.
Oh, he loved it when a plan came together!
Carefully he stepped over the body and asked, “How are you going to stop me?”
---
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. I sure as hell enjoyed writing this. I’ll always thrive on comments, so leave one below or, even better, jump into my askbox. Lots of Love! <3000
A/N: I came across a list of sentence starters made by @memeasaurus-promptus and I thought it would be funny to write a mini drabble with every one of them for Loki. The idea was to keep it between three and ten sentences. There were a lot of them so I decided to divide them into three posts. If anyone wants to use them for a fic, feel free.
“Does it get lonely?” He couldn’t deny the fear he felt, his heart hammering in his chest as he was pressed with his back against the wall, Loki hovering menacingly over him. Still, he raised his chin as he stared the God dead in the eye.
Briefly he caught the confusion in those green eyes, but then they hardened and a snarl formed on that perfect face. “Do not ask about that which you don’t understand,” Loki hissed.
“Maybe I understand more than you know,” he defied, raising his hand to touch Loki’s cheek.
To his amazement, Loki let him.
“Oh god, please don’t hurt me!”
“The God part is correct, the hurting part is not,” the tall man with the penetrating green eyes said.
“God part?”
The man chuckled. “I am Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”
“Your god has no sway here.” A vile grin spread across Loki’s face as he noticed the Mortal’s fear. “You can scream for your god all you want, but I assure you, you shall not be heard.”
A cold finger traced over the Mortal’s cheek who was petrified with fear. “The only God who shall hear your screams, is me.” Then he leaned in to whisper in the Human’s ear. “Scream for me!”
“And what brings you into my domain, little one?” The mischievous God asked with a wolfish grin.
The mortal arched an eyebrow, not impressed by the antics of the God. “My feet.”
“Oh, sassy. I like that,” Loki chuckled and then his tone turned menacing. “At last, a challenge.”
“I think I just woke something up. Something powerful.” Uncertainly you looked at your friend who mimicked your expression.
A wicked laugh curled around the both of you - it made your breaths hitch in your throats.
“Oh, you have,” a voice purred once the laugh had ceased. “You will dread this moment, dread the day, you have called upon a God of old.”
“W-who a-are you?” you stammered, your head whipping left and right to find the source of the person who had spoken.
That laugh was back, sending shivers down your spine. “You shall soon discover, Little Mortals.”
“Um… Hello? Any- Anyone listening?”
Loki rolled his eyes and snapped his book shut. This was the tenth day in a row you had been calling out and apparently he was the only one who heard you. Of all the Godlings out there, he was the one who had to put up with you.
It frustrated him immensely, he couldn’t even read a book and he was going to put a halt to it now! One way, or another...
“This is stupid. Of course no God will listen to me.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” Loki asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Because what God would listen to me? Why would a God even listen to a human, or give them attention? If they are real, they only play with their little ant-boxes. They don’t intervene.” A weary and defeated sigh escaped the human. “And why should they?”
Loki chuckled, a little smile playing on his lips, but he didn’t speak.
“What is so funny?”
“Have I ever told you who I truly am, Mortal?”
“You probably look nothing like your statue,” you murmured to the man you couldn’t see.
“Probably not,” he chuckled.
For days someone had been speaking to you; a voice only you could hear. You thought you were loosing your mind, going insane and one day short of becoming a total basket case. Nobody else could hear the voice, but to you it was real.
The voice - or rather the person the voice belonged to - was none other than Loki, the Norse God of Lies and Mischief.
His next words made your heart skip a beat with anticipation. “Would you care to see?”
“I hope this shrine is worthy enough for you…” you trailed, looking at your feet.
Loki inspected the small table with trinkets closer. Long slender fingers caressed a marvelous, green stone; the flat of his hand gliding over the black, silken cloth and his green eyes drawn to a golden pendant that spelled his name in runes.
His face was a mask until he turned to you, a smile softening his features and reaching his eyes. “Mortal, everything you make or do for me is worthy because you have made and done it for me. That devotion is all a God can ask for.”
“I’m here as a sacrifice, as promised by my people.”
“And what am I to do with such a pathetic sacrifice?” the God asked dismayed, looking down on the creature with a wrinkled nose.
“Pathetic?” the sacrifice parroted incredulous. “I am the strongest warrior of my people. I have slayed beasts and devils. I can lift the heaviest logs. I can-”
“I ask you again,” Loki interrupted with a tinge of boredom in his voice. “What am I to do with such a brainless sacrifice?”
A/N: Well, suddenly I got inspired to write a short Christmas drabble and after searching for some prompts, the first sentence of this fic tickled my brain. Weirdly enough, it ended smutty.
“Alright, mister. I know you're the one who keeps hanging up mistletoe everywhere,” Tony accused the Trickster as he pointed at him.
Loki's eyebrows shot to his hairline and indignantly he said, “Now why would I do that? I loathe this festivity of yours.”
“I don't know, but I'll find out!” Tony was still pointing at him as he walked to the door.
“What exactly? Why I put up mistletoe - which I did not - or why I hate your dreaded holiday?”
The genius was already in the hallway, but he hadn't missed the words and loudly answered. “Both!”
Loki watched with an arched eyebrow as the man vanished around the corner.
“Why do you hate Christmas?” somebody else asked.
Immediately Loki recognized the gruff voice of Bucky, but he had already known it was the soldier even before he had entered the room. There weren't many people who could sneak up on the Trickster, and even though Bucky was silent as a cat, the smell of metal that lingered around him also preceded him. It didn't work in his favor.
Loki turned around, shrugging with a sheepish grin. “I could ask you the same, Soldier. If there is one person in this building who matches my sulking due to this ridiculous festivity, it is you.”
“You admit you're sulking?”
With a grin on his face and a couple of big strides, Loki bridged the distance between them, backing up the soldier one step. “I am not.”
Bucky was scowling at him, not amused by Loki’s antic to force him backward.
Loki’s grin grew wide enough to show his teeth and he pointed towards the ceiling.
Briefly Bucky’s eyes flitted upward. “Do you even know what it means?”
“I do,” the God chuckled, that grin never leaving his face. “And there is so much more I want from you than just a kiss.”
---
By the time Bucky and Loki exited the elevator, their lips were puffy from their messy kisses, bruises forming on skin where they had dug their fingers in to find purchase on the other.
They stumbled into Loki’s bedroom, falling onto the bed.
Deftly and precisely, Bucky rid Loki of his leathers, unclasping belts, whistles and what not the God used to keep him from his early Christmas present.
Loki tried to replicate the actions, longing to rid the soldier of his clothing, but Bucky kept slapping his hands away. “Oh no, Punk! You lured me under that mistletoe, now you’re gonna to get it,” Bucky growled, raking his fingers over the God’s bared chest.
Bucky slicked himself up with some lube and pushed Loki’s legs against his chest, and lined himself up. Suddenly the door swung open and Tony barged into the room. “Ha! I know why you keep hanging up mistletoe!” he exclaimed.
Immediately Tony receive two glares that could have killed him on the spot and Bucky growled, “Tony, kinda in the middle of something!”
The genius eyed the two men on the bed, both of them frozen in their position due to the unexpected intrusion. (Though not uncommon and definitely not the first time; Tony had a knack for barging in and not caring for whatever what was going on.)
“You’re not in yet,” he remarked dryly with a raised eyebrow and then made a swirling motion with his hand. “But that's beside the point. It's because Baldr-”
Without warning Tony was flung backwards by an unseen force, the door slamming shut behind him with a smack.
Bucky looked at Loki who shrugged apologetic.
“RUDE!” Tony shouted from the other side of the door. “You didn’t even invite me...” Then he relented. “Fine! I’ll come back later.”
“Did you lock the door this time?” Bucky asked.
Loki gave him a look. “It did not keep him out the first time.”
A hum in the back of his throat was all the answer Loki got before the soldier continued with what he was doing before Tony’s intrusion; his excitement hadn’t doused and he was still hard.
With one smooth motion Bucky pushed inside, knocking the air from Loki’s lungs who huffed. He didn’t move just yet, giving Loki a moment to adjust to his size and the feeling of being filled up.
“Why do you hate Christmas?” Bucky asked, rocking his hips once.
Loki gasped and then scowled. “Is this the moment for that conversation?”
“Is any time better or worse?”
Loki snorted in the back of his throat, but he smiled nonetheless. It was a sentence he used often when he wanted something at an inconvenient moment, and now he felt and odd sense of pride for Bucky taking a page from his book.
Still, he rolled his eyes. “This really is not a good conversation for this activity.”
Pleasure coursed up Loki’s spine as Bucky shallowly trusted his hips twice and they both hummed at the feeling of delicious friction.
“But I shall humor you,” Loki breathed. “The person you call Santa Claus, I used to call father.”
Bucky’s face fell. He didn’t know the details about Loki’s relationship with his fathers, but the basic knowledge was known to everyone. He also knew he shouldn’t touch the subject any further and it was a grace that Loki had given him this information.
“You put up the mistletoe?” Bucky asked, changing the subject. (He hoped!)
Loki smirked mischievous and wiggled his ass to tease the soldier, but otherwise remained silent - a confession as good as any.
“Why?”
Loki shrugged. “It wards against evil spirits.”
“It didn't keep you out!” Bucky laughed.
Loki grabbed the man hovering above him and flipped them over, answering with a low and dark voice, “No, it did not.”
---
A/N: Please, let me know what you thought of this little drabble. I take anything from keymashes to emoticons. Whether it be the comment section or my askbox, I always love to hear from my readers <3
