Hello fellow Sifki shippers! It’s time to celebrate our favorite space vikings - Sifki Week 2026 is here!
How does it work? Each day of the week will come with two general prompts to give you inspiration for your work. You can follow the prompt(s) as loosely or closely, as literal or abstract as you want; prompts are mainly there to give you a starting point to create from. Or you can completely ignore the prompts if you don’t feel particularly inspired but have your own great idea. You can also submit for as many or as few days as you’d like, and creations can be any length or size. We want to see as much new fan work in the fandom as possible, so don’t feel limited. The schedule for this year’s celebration is as follows:
Day 1 (Sunday August 2nd) - Forbidden | Forgotten
Day 2 (Monday August 3rd) - Veil | Vision
Day 3 (Tuesday August 4th) - Charm | Chase
Day 4 (Wednesday August 5th) - Habit | Hostage
Day 5 (Thursday August 6th) - Bite | Bargain
Day 6 (Friday August 7th) - Poison | Potion
Day 7 (Saturday August 8th) - Trade | Trace
What’s acceptable? Fics, Artwork, Graphics, Manips, Gisfsets, Videos, Playlists, Moodboards, Aesthetics, Headcanons, and pretty much anything else
To participate, please mention @sifkiweek in your post and tag your work with #sifkiweek26 in the first 5 tags (and tag all mature, not work safe stuff with the appropriate tags). We ask that Loki/Sif be the main pairing for your work. Each day we will reblog the creations, and encourage you to do the same. If you have any questions, feel free to shoot us a message or ask here. Have fun and happy creating!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Mischief & Mistletoe 2025 is now live!
Thank you to everyone who participated! Please click the link above or right here to make your way to all of the awesome fanworks! We’re so proud of you!
Happy holidays and thank you to everyone who participated. Don’t forget to check back on New Year’s Day for creator reveals!
Hmm, ok I wrote some words to go with the picture! Read here or on AO3
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"You've loved her since the dawn of Ymir," Thor said with a smile, glancing over his shoulder at his brother watching the warrior shield-maiden Lady Sif dance in the far corner of the great hall.
"Yes," Loki sighed, his eyebrows raised in complete, utter resignation. "Along with the whole of Asgard."
"The time has come to stake your claim, brother."
"My claim?" Loki mused, looking over at Thor in wide-eyed disbelief. "I have no more claim to her than the wind or the rain."
“If I am to leave for Midgard, and you are to be king of this realm, I would sleep easier knowing Sif holds the reins.”
"Is that so?" Loki smirked, watching Sif drunkenly climb to the top of a bar stool, sloshing the contents of her tankard onto her many admirers below.
The two exchanged glances and laughed in merriment. After the weight of the last few years, of learning his true parentage and almost falling to his demise during the near destruction of Jotunheim, it felt good to laugh alongside his brother again. It had been a hellish realization, learning that he was a frost giant - the monsters he was taught to fear and loathe as a child. In the wake of that revelation, Loki had committed atrocities beyond his wildest imagination, and yet, those closest to him remained so. He had spent much time since then rebuilding trust, letting his actions speak where his words would not suffice. His relationship with Sif, however, had drastically changed.
“She hasn’t forgiven me,” Loki whispered, staring down at his hands. “Nor should she.”
“You must speak with her,” Thor said, taking a swig of his mead. “She deserves that much.”
“I cannot condemn her to such a life."
"And what life would that be? You two were bound long before all of this. Do not tempt the Norns.”
"A life with a monster."
"I see no such monster. The Jotuns are not the heathens we once believed. Many are wise, cunning and powerful. Laufey's rule was brutal for them and due to your actions, it has ended."
“Do not mistake consequence for intention, brother. I did not act to free them.”
“I know,” Thor replied, not wishing to start an argument. "But you did it all the same. I will not see you punish yourself for eternity."
Loki let several minutes pass before finally speaking, his finger rapping at the base of his chalice.
“I never thanked you."
“For what?”
“For not letting me fall. That day on the Bifrost.”
Thor swallowed.
“For all of it, I suppose,” he continued, his voice dropping. “I would have let go.”
“I am glad that you are here, brother,” Thor said after a long moment, trying to gain composure before he spoke. “And so is she.”
Sif suddenly brought a finger to her lips, silencing the crowd as she jumped off of her seat, swaying as she did so. She took one long swig of mead and placed the vessel on the bar, taking a deep breath before she began to sing.
“I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene. Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem…”
Loki’s eyes flashed to hers the moment the familiar melody entered the atmosphere and found her gaze locked upon his. It was an old Asgardian folk song that she had sung to him many times when they were children. It was well known around the realm, but because of Sif’s particular affinity for it, Loki could recite every word in his sleep. While it had an upbeat refrain, it was a song about a lost soul, a wanderer, and a fair maiden missing him, crying out for her love to return home. The words began to cut him, to reach him, as they never quite had before.
“I eplehagen står møyen den vene og synger… "når kommer du hjem?"
When will you come home?
Loki replayed the phrase over and over in his head, only snapping out of his reverie the moment the men answered the song, rhythmically slamming their tankards down on the long tables.
“When she sings, she sings “come home”! When she sings, she sings,“come home”!” they shouted enthusiastically as the beat picked up.
Many began dancing again, repeating the tune over and over to an arduous degree. Loki noticed Sif stumble through the crowd and slip silently out of the hall. He nodded at Thor and stood, pushing in his chair as he took off after her.
The night air was cool in contrast to the hall which had become stifling with revelry. Snow began to fall heavily in the courtyards beyond. Loki turned down a dark corridor and found Sif slumped on the ground between two large barrels of grain alcohol, sobbing to herself.
"Sif," he whispered as he bent down before her, making sure she was alright.
“How do you suppose you tap these,” she slurred, ignoring his concern as she knocked weakly on the barrels.
“I think you’ve had enough.”
“Spare me your lectures and your pity. I am in no mood.”
“You will have neither,” he assured her, slowly standing once more. “But I cannot leave you like this.”
“Why not?” she spat, her heavy eyes finally meeting his. “You excel at that.”
Loki’s throat tightened and his jaw clenched at the sound of her disdain.
“Sif, I -”
“I defended you,” she laughed in disbelief as she slowly stood to face him, steadying herself on the barrels for support. “Even after New Mexico. The Bifrost. All of it.”
“I know.”
“And you never came back to me,” she replied, her voice wavering as tears filled her eyes. “You never came home.”
“I’m not who you once knew,” he said, unfeeling and flat. It had been a slow climb to accept who he was, who he really was. He could still return to his duties to the kingdom and focus entirely on his responsibilities there. It was never an option to return to her. He wouldn’t even allow himself the fantasy of it.
“I suppose not,” Sif said, trying hard to match his indifference, ignoring the allusion he made to his jotun form as she did not care. “Your ambitions were greater than your love for me.”
“I did what was best.”
“No,” she replied angrily, inching towards him once more. “You did what was easy.”
“Easy,” he laughed darkly after a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Do you truly believe that every moment I’ve spent without you has not been agony? That I haven't laid awake each night, staring into the dark until it swallows the hours whole. That I have not reached for you - only to remember repeatedly that you are not there - ”
His voice faltered, just for a moment.
“Every silence is filled with you,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “Every thought returns to you.”
“But you CHOSE this,” she cried, shaking her head in disbelief at his words.
“I chose this to save you,” he spat, closing the distance between them. “I should have cast myself from the Bifrost. That would have been easy.”
Before she could stop herself, Sif reached up and slapped him hard across the face. For him to even suggest such a thing fueled her rage, further clouding any good judgment she had left in her near-belligerent state. She reached up to do it again but he firmly caught hold of her wrist and stayed her hand.
"You are a fool," she snapped, her voice breaking as she swayed.
"A fool who will not damn you to a life with a monster."
“The only monster is the one you’ve created," she cried, her inebriation and anger quickly draining into exhaustion. "I alone decide what is best for me.”
“No,” Loki said firmly but with a sudden softness in his voice, bringing her hand to his chest, anchoring her there. “You will not carry this.”
“I’ve carried it regardless," she whispered, her lips just inches from his. "Only I’ve done it without you.”
The words lingered between them - firm, resolute, cutting. Every instinct Loki had cultivated demanded he turn around and walk away from her, as he should. And yet, there he still stood, his body betraying him, completely relenting at the sight of the goddess before him.
He looked down at her and sighed, his fingers instinctively brushing a stray strand of hair from her eyes before tracing the line of her jaw. Her breath danced warmly across his lips, close enough that he could nearly taste all that he had been missing, all that he had denied himself - and it threatened to undo him. He lingered there for what felt like an eternity, unwilling to break away from her, time softening around them.
Sif’s breath caught as she leaned into his touch, but her stance faltered and her strength suddenly gave way. Loki immediately caught hold of her and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
“I've got you," he whispered gently, the faint, intoxicating scent of her locks rousing his senses as he did so. For a fleeting moment, he was somewhere else entirely - tangled with her in warmth and laughter, in a time far simpler than this.
"Release me," she half-protested feebly, though her head had already settled comfortably against his chest.
"As I said," he replied quietly, his lips brushing against her forehead as he spoke. "I'm not leaving you."
The snow fell in slow, silent drifts as Loki walked out into the night, catching in her hair and settling against the fabric of his cape. A faint smile touched his mouth as Sif, half-asleep in his arms, began to hum the same folk song once more.
“Where are we going?” she demanded softly, nodding in and out of consciousness.
Loki’s hold on her tightened slightly as he descended the steps and moved through the snow towards the winding path that led to his chambers. Their chambers.
would I run off the world someday? (take me home where I belong) - written for @sifkiweek day 1 - throne I theft. I thought I would write something small to participate! it looks like a fun event.
Shadows dance upon gilded walls and Sif’s heart is in her throat as she strides down the palace hall, her armour gleaming even in the dim torchlight. The air in Asgard has been thick with tension for days; whispers of discontent echoed through the stone corridors as the people of Asgard mourn their rightful king’s absence.
She has come to plead for Thor’s return once more, her chest filled with righteous anger and desperation.
When she makes it to the throne room, it is Loki who sits upon the grand throne. He tilts his head and watches her as she proceeds up the rows of curving stairs to stand before him.
“Your majesty,” she begins, crossing her arm over her chest in a brisk gesture of respect, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. “I have come to you again to ask that you reconsider.”Emerald eyes glint with something she can’t name. It could be mischief, perhaps, or eagerness. It could be madness.
“I am certain I have made my existing reasons clear to you, Lady Sif,” Is his reply, his tone infuriatingly unconcerned. He leans back in the throne, which arches high around him like the sky at dawn, hues of bronze and golden rays, and looks at her as if the conversation is over.
“He is your brother,” Sif replies fiercely, stepping closer. “How can you hold him in banishment knowing you have the power to end it? Surely you want him to return! Surely you…miss him.” Her voice trembles slightly at the end, and Loki’s eyebrow arches.
“Surely?” Loki echoes, leaning forward with feigned concern. “Sif, as I take on this mantle of leadership, I must consider not only my desires but also the needs of our people. You see, Thor embodies a certain...exuberance that can be both a blessing and a curse. While his bravery is commendable, it often veers into recklessness. The citizens of Asgard require stability and assurance during this transition. They need to feel that their king is someone who embodies wisdom and restraint rather than impulsiveness.”
Sif shakes her head furiously. “Thor is beloved by the people! They would welcome him back with open arms. At a time like this, his presence would comfort them.”
“If I were to reinstate Thor immediately,” Loki replies. “It would send the message that my reign lacks conviction or direction.”
Sif clenches her jaw at the way he says my reign. She forces her voice to remain calm. “But Asgard is vulnerable, especially with the Frost Giants stewing as they are. Could you not do with Thor’s strength?”
Loki’s eyes flicker with annoyance. They really are so green. Despite her anger, Sif cannot all erase an aching history of summers spent with the princes as the three of them grew up into their roles in Asgard. His eyes are the verdant green of the forests they traversed or the glimmering surface of a lake under the sun's touch. She is barefoot again in white cotton, and Thor and Loki are laughing at her about something as she chases them in river-drenched skirts. She’d felt a sort of desperation to be near them back then, so that if she found herself ever unsure, ever hesitant, one of them would be certain of what to do.
She feels the same distress now in Thor’s overhanging absence, the panic slowly creeping up on her, the need to be by his side.
“Leadership requires more than mere physical prowess, Lady.” Loki replies. She does not know when this bitterness, this hostility, grew between them, but it had started as a bunch of weeds and grown into an impenetrable thorn wall. “It demands an understanding of diplomacy qualities that you will find often elude Thor in favor of bravado. I must ensure that Asgard is led by someone who can navigate complex political landscapes without resorting to sheer force.” He says this pointedly.
Sif sees his implication. “And you think you are better suited for this role?”
“Not necessarily better suited,” he answers easily. “But perhaps more attuned to the subtleties required at this delicate moment in time. My approach will be one of calculated decisions rather than spontaneous actions. We face challenges ahead both external and internal and I must prioritize unity over division.”
“And when Thor learns of your decision? He will feel betrayed.”
“That is a risk I must take for the greater good. If he feels slighted now, it may prevent greater discord later on when he realizes that my intentions are rooted in safeguarding Asgard's future. He knows that I love him, but this cannot be a personal decision.”
His eyes observe her lightly, challenging her, and despite Sif’s desperation, she feels her resolve waver momentarily. He loves his brother; perhaps he will bring Thor home once Asgard settles. But then she remembered all the times Loki’s ambition had led to chaos rather than order, all the times she has seen his face twist with envy when he is looking at Thor.
“Thor may have been unfit to be king,” she says firmly, and waits until Loki looks up in surprise to add, “on his own. A rulership is more then one man on a throne. Things would burn up and fall apart if he were to take on all of that responsibility without the assistance he would no doubt have received. What is a king without his brother?”
Loki opens his mouth, but he says nothing.
Sif says, “Do you truly wish to rule over ashes?”
For a heartbeat, silence enveloped them both, before Loki scoffs and looks away. Still, he does not dismiss her entirely.
“Bring him back,” Sif urges softly now, her voice almost pleading. “Let us face whatever comes next together.”
With a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, Loki’s expression is quickly masked with his usual bravado.
“We are done,” he replies, and there is an edge to his tone.
With her heartbat pounding like a war drum and fury igniting her bones, Sif’s resolute is decided. She would not let Thor face this darkness alone; she will go and bring him back from Midgard herself should she have to, even if it means tearing apart the very fabric of destiny itself. Maybe then even Loki will see sense. She turns and leaves him to his grievances, her heart heavy with hope for one brother and remorse for the other.
