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If I take some artistic licence with the decoration of your room in AFAOOL, will you kill me? 

53%
10 deviants said No, I recognize that some things are going to have to be arbitrary to make things cohesive.
32%
6 deviants said Marshmallows. Tons of them. With rainbows and unicorns. Not for decoration of course, but just because there needs to be a good quality control answer here.
5%
1 deviant said Only take artistic licence if you make the shades of the room dark.
5%
1 deviant said Only take artistic licence if you make the shades of the room light.
5%
1 deviant said I don't care?
0%
No deviants said Keep description out of it. I want to imagine the room as I would make it.

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    Donated Mar 18, 2014, 4:18:39 AM
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ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:


r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
f/n - Full name. It can be as full as you want it to be. Since I can't predict what you're going to place here, I would stray from attempting sarcasm :P


Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.

Enjoy ;3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


If I hadn’t noticed the dexterity of Sleipnir’s hooves, I would be concerned for the mental health of the residents of this city. No sign of screaming or drawn attention aside from a sidelong glance at the ruckus from some of the market-goers.

No big deal. We’re just galloping on through these extremely crowded streets right next to your children and pets. Don’t think twice or anything. We won’t murder anyone.

We ascend the steep streets of the city. The air is colder, the closer we get to the shining summit. Beautiful pink and muted purple trees line the streets of what looks like a heavily residential area and shade my view from clearly seeing what could be a long strip of designated shrubbery.

Sleipnir slows down as the angle of the hill evens off, alerting me to the fact that we have stumbled upon a grand, shining feat of architecture. The roof looks to be made of carefully placed rocks and logs that have been shit on by fairies or unicorns, both due to the height of the structure and the amount of glittering that the gaudy, gold house-hat is afflicting my eyes with. Large thorny tips adorn the curved slopes of the rooftop, most of which is chopped up to be more aesthetically pleasing than practical. At first glance anyway; I’m sure that the gods would have come up with some really convoluted way to capture rain water or something.
The golden paint covers the rest of the columns, stonemason walls, and flowerbeds lining the sides of every wall I can see, gardeners nowhere in sight. Like inset gemstones on sturdy, yet ornately delicate jewelry, crystalline windows jut out from the tall walls, breaking up the false-looking aesthetic.

At least, I assume that they’re windows. I can’t see through them, but what kind of place has a house as big as this without any natural light in it? What would be the point? Are they vampires?

Or is this a nightclub?

Loki slips down off Sleipnir’s saddle, earning from me a whole lot of ‘um’ing and ‘uh’ing due to the fact that my only stable connection to this particular part of the universe is not touching me right now.

“Loki,” I start as he extends his hand toward me in the hopes that I’ll get off of his son, “why were the people not totally afraid of you just running through the streets with a really powerful horse and a creature on your back.” The bitterness at the label coats my tongue. I hadn’t thought about it again until now, but that was really rude of the gatekeeper.

“It would be an insult to myself and my son to pay more than a passing glance. It would mean they do not trust us to place no harm on the citizens. That is an oath of the Aesir, and one that has long stood the test of time. They trust in us.”

Ah, thank you for the culture lesson. I suppose I should concern myself with that information, though. Any information about a completely alien world is good information. Who knows, maybe I can write an accurate account of the Nine Realms and sell it to Xavier’s students.

Loki prods his hand closer to me, probably becoming impatient with my reveries. It isn’t like he knows what I’m thinking but I’m sure it’s plain as day on my face that I had no intention of doing as he originally asked. I take those lithe digits that I have come to find so familiar in this unfamiliar place, finally removing myself from he-who-has-been-my-legs-for-the-past-hour and stand on solid ground. Now alone in this grandiose land, I paw my feet at the ground with more anxiety than I have felt since probably the car-ride over here.

It feels good to be in control of my own direction again, at least.

As soon as I realize that Loki still has my hand and I’m not really in control of my own direction again, Sleipnir’s hooves ring against my ears as he no doubt bounds off from whence he came just as the man at my hand drags me toward the waiting, shimmering doors.

With a wave of the god’s hand, the doors open to a musky, clean, cherry wood interior. The draperies that line the walls are rich tones of blue, red, and green. Chandeliers of iron and smoky quartz line the ceiling like clouded stars.

Atop side tables next to very plush-looking chaises lay instruments of worlds conquered or visited. Like a person might collect seashells or geodes but more in the way of personal items like hair pins and mirrors.

Are these Odin’s conquests? I’m fairly certain he was generally faithful to Frigg. Or maybe I’m thinking of Zeus again.

My thoughts don’t linger for long on other pantheons. I am drawn to this place. It has the extravagance of a mansion with all of the cozy appeal of a cabin. Fireplaces center every sitting arrangement down this hallway and that and our steps do not echo any louder than they might in my grandma’s front room.

However distracting all of this is to me, it is nothing but air to Loki. He grips my hand tighter every time I tense my muscles to go in some other direction.

“Please bow when you enter the room and do not straighten yourself until he gives the word.” The words out of his mouth harbor a cold edge that I haven’t felt before, almost like the way he would instruct a disobedient child. I’m not that bad.

“And do not fidget. Do not speak unless you have been asked for a response. Do feel free to look to me, though, if you are ever unsure of what to do. Taking your eyes off of the All-Father is not looked down upon. His gaze is penetrating, to put it lightly.”

Is taking my eyes off of someone ever disrespectful?

Loki, in much the same manner as before, waves his hand at the door that has stopped our forward progress and reveals to me the brightest throne room that I have ever laid eyes upon. Archways reach over us, segregating the ceiling into two halves, perpendicular to my attention. Both sides of the room are flush with sunlight, cresting oranges and yellows saturating the scene in front of us from the open wall to the left. Among the gold inlaid white marble stand two people and accompanied by one who kneels. They face a perched throne made of silver wood and emerald velvet. To its left sits a more homely chair of auburn wood and ebony brocade.

But it is the people that sit in these pieces of furniture that hold my attention. A bit too long it seems--
Loki pushes my head down parallel to the floor. I must look like a goose, walking and bowing at the same time. That was Odin and Frigg. I am sure of it. The room smells of wisdom and foresight, after all. Even if it weren’t for Odin’s eye patch and Frigg’s feather-laden hair-do, I could not mistake the feeling that I was in the presence of probably the most powerful ‘gods’ to have ever existed. Thankfully it’s clear that I am not an interruption in the slightest.

“You have committed crimes against humanity, and, thus, crimes against the whole of Asgard. We have committed to protecting that planet from absolute extinction and it seems that your purpose was, in its entirety, to destroy the very fabric of that commitment. Midgard is important to maintaining the balance of this galaxy. You would destroy it to do what?” The shifting of fabric tells me that someone has moved.

“Father--”
Do not refer to me as such,” the boom of his words rattles my ligaments, giving my already awkward stride a twist. Thankfully we have stopped moving. This way I can just writhe painfully in one place. “I may be your father by birth but I will no longer accept you as a son. You were the chosen child. Those people loved you. They named you as the lone survivor in their apocalypse. To be released by Hel of all things--” Odin cuts himself off, giving my ears the indication of more moving fabric.

“You will stay in the prisons for now. I do not know how to look on you if it is not with love. I must learn how before I can aptly punish you.” Loki’s hand eases my hand ever so slightly as more movement occurs. Stretching my eyes over what marble I can see, I notice two pairs of legs and feet pass by me. One clad in war greaves and the other completely naked.

Is that how they punish people here? Strip them down before the King and Queen?

“Loki…” A strong, airy, musical sound ekes out from in front of us and I am completely released from my much needed captivity. At least while Loki was holding my hand, I felt less ridiculous standing here, basically keeled over. What would really happen if I looked up? I mean, would they think so bad of me for breaking this dumb rule?

The pitter of dainty shoes across the stone floor distracts me momentarily. It ends with the sound of an embrace and a soft smacking of lips to skin. Hope that’s not oedipal.

“I have returned with her, Mother.” The pride in his voice is remarkable. It’s like he’s taken to thinking of me as a puppy. A prize or something. Though they may have all seen or known about my presence here, they seem more than a little apprehensive about me and ecstatic about him.

“This is the woman you left to find? She is meek.” Meek? You little fucker--
I lift my head, pissed that Loki would tell me to do something that would make me look weak instead of respectful--
Loki’s hand finds its way to the back of my neck and pushes my head down again.
“She will be better when she eats with us. Midgardian food is lackluster. If I did not know better, I would say the food contributes heavily to their short lives.” Those lithe fingers that I was beginning to love hesitantly dig into my neck, punishing me for stepping out of bounds.

“Odin, dear husband, please release the girl. I am afraid she does not understand our customs. Circumstances must be even more disastrous than Thor reported.”

“The midgardians made their decision, Frigg,” Odin begins, “though she, herself, did not choose to abandon the Aesir, she comes from a world who has.” Footsteps thump toward me, breaking the silence in the wake of his words. We also abandoned a lot of other gods...what makes you so special? Other than the fact that you guys actually exist...

“Two weeks? That is a bit slow for you, brother.” A loud slap claps the back of Loki’s shirt, echoing strangely in these particular surroundings. “And these garments. You look as if you have been down in the market, playing with the children.”

“I did come that way to get here today, yes,” the snide remark bounds away from me as Loki no doubt speaks to the person insinuating he sleeps around. I mean...I knew that already about Loki, but hearing it come from someone he knows, presumably trusts, twists in my heart. The fact that he really is Loki is enough to deal with, but if the myths were true...Would he do that to me? Is he still with that giantess? He did have children with her if I am understanding Sleipnir’s words correctly...am I just some slag that he is cheating on her with?

“Stand tall, little one.” The depth of Odin’s voice hasn’t been apparent until now that he stands before me, groin higher than I can see from my bent position. I lift myself slowly, keeping my eyes on the only god that I have really had time to familiarize myself with, just in case he decides he wants to push me back down for the fun of it. Eventually, and with a reassuring nod from his bony face, I let his figure leave my vision, deciding I should stand tall and strong while he lets me.

Odin’s face is long, grey, and weathered. I heard once that gods died out because the people stopped believing in them. They are weakened without the worship of humans. By the aged nature of his face, I wonder if that has an element of truth…

“You are smaller than I imagined.” Loki says nothing this time, taking to crossing his arms and looking at me expectantly. Are you kidding? What am I supposed to say to that? Why am I on trial here?

Also--didn’t Odin send him to find me? Didn’t he tell him I was supposed to end up with him? That the fates have willed it? So wouldn’t he know exactly what I was like? Didn’t Loki also say that Frigg has seen my fate? Why did she act equally as surprised about my appearance?  Did Loki lie to me? The subject of my thoughts’ expression sours into something akin to fear.

“Your lover said he would be away for three months, and yet here you are. The second midgardian to stand in Asgard as an equal and, more to your credit, after only two weeks of knowing my son.” Odin’s eye draws my gaze from Loki’s lack of confidence and maintains it. I can feel power emanating from him in ways that I don’t think I was meant to ever feel anything. It almost feels like it’s eating at my skin--
“Please let me know what it is you think you are doing here.” What a choice of words.

“I believe that I am here to meet you. L-Loki,” the name staggers on my tongue, “said he brought me here to visit. Whatever that might entail.” I huff out a nervous laugh to punctuate the sinking feeling in my stomach. Is this what it feels like to know something really bad is about to happen to you?

Maybe I’m finally mutating. I hope that’s all it is.

“Are you.” Frigg twists her hands at the words of her husband. Is that a bad thing? Or does she just like to twist her hands? Have I offended him? I look down to Odin’s breastplate, noticing that it is the only piece of armour on his body. Light grey cloth covers the rest of him and a horned helmet frames his face.

“Frigg.” She turns to him, completely submissive to his call. “Take me to the gardens that I might have a think on this turn of events.” Turn of events? What? What turn? Every path should be straight as the Rainbow Bridge for you. No surprises.

Once again, my eyes find Loki’s and truthfully I can’t catch more than the whites of those glittering orbs.
“You won’t even look at me?” I almost shout, over the slamming of the double doors behind us.

“I know not what--”
“Don’t ‘know not’ me. You lied. Probably about everything. If you hadn’t just been exposed, because you certainly wouldn’t be dumb enough to make that part of an illusion, I would be questioning the very fabric of this mountain. Who is this?” I end my short rant with a tense, stifled question directed at the man whose hand has fallen off Loki’s shoulder.

“Quite a set of pipes on you. I am Thor, the brother of Loki and the first son of Odin.” He extends his meaty hand, dwarfing me and my reluctant reciprocal hand-shaking with a hearty laugh. “Forgive my mother for calling you meek. I will let her know you simply misunderstood the circumstances.”
“Hold on...Thor.” He turns back toward me, the bright red of his bushy facial hair and large eyes clashing with the deep red of his cape. It billows in the light mountain breeze as I try to find the words.

“What...circumstances?”

“You thought you were to be his slave until you realized that you did not have to be.” And he saunters off without the decency of letting me rebut that awful assumption.
“I--certainly had no intention of--” I turn on Loki again. His mind backpedals behind his pupils as he finally makes eye contact with me. His right knee bends as I take a step toward him.

“What was that?”

“I can explain--”
“Then explain.” A moment to compose himself and he is back to his usual cool demeanor, unbending his knee but still keeping his arms as a final barrier between the two of us.

“I brought you here to visit. That is all I have shown with the gestures to which I asked you to adhere.”

“Why early? Doesn’t that change fate? Can you change fate?” I ask, sarcasm haunting at my gestures.

He doesn’t reply, understanding I took the few metaphorical steps to realize that his explanations from before are no longer any good.

“Do you only love me because the fates have willed it? And how did you find out, anyway?” I inquire more of him, trying to get anything out of him that isn’t manipulation.

“Find out what?”

“That I crossed over. That I was the one that Odin sent you to find. How could he have seen it? What directions did he give? Clearly you lied about your mother having seen my fate. Why not him too? His ambiguous speech leads me to believe it’s possible that you have brought me here of your own free will.”

“Does that not make it more special?” The outside corners of his eyes sink, and his mouth shortens just a smidge to tell me that he’s appealing to pathos to get me on his side.
“Nononono--no. Don’t you change the subject. You told me that you were meant to find me. I take it I’m not actually special after all. I take it that you--”
Apparently growing tired of my theories, Loki places his hand in front of himself indicating at me to stop speaking. Gawking, I utter a few unappreciative noises before his silver tongue finally makes its appearance.

“r/n, you are special. I lied about my mother because I did not want you to think about me in such a way that was...unsavoury. I am lonely. I found it odd that I have found no other suitable to love in this universe--at least this galaxy--and I went searching in yours. I found you. I worked with f/n to bring you here. None of the other mutants matter. They just happened to have the same special ‘dee-en-ay’ as you and they just happened to benefit from the most inconspicuous way that I could invite you over.”
“Why inconspicuous? Why would it matter?”

“I am...an outcast here. If I were to be found out looking in an entirely different reality for love, a love that Frigg herself could not see, I would forever lose my place in Asgard. The mockery would drive me to...do terrible things.” A crack near his evergreen eyes leads me to believe it might not be an external struggle at that point. “You are...I chose you before you had the chance to choose me back. I forced your hand. My face persuaded you,” how arrogant, “but your head did not fall with your heart.” He steps toward me for the first time since entering the throne room.

His neck bends as he wraps his arms around my forgiving shoulders. Tickling the tiny hairs of my left ear with warm breath, Loki continues: “Give me the chance to show you what a life with me would be like. If you choose not to stay, I will respect your decision; but let me court you.”

“Why the charade?”

“The charade?” He pulls back, stunned. Is the shock due to his speech not having rendered me completely silent or is it due to complete obliviousness?

“Why have me as your girlfriend in your campaign? Why have your campaign at all? What do you gain from all of that?”

“I gain your trust, I think that should be easy enough to see. I hold you as my own in front of the entire world. At least the entirety of New York. No person would have claim to my heart as you. As far as what the campaign gets, it is as I told Ben in the car--”
“Why did you make Ben your ‘father’?” I finger quote the title, knowing now that Loki’s real father makes that other man look like mud.

“He set me up to get elected.”

“He set you up?”
“I don’t mean he rigged it--there hasn’t even been a vote yet--I mean he gave me the tools and connections necessary to run a campaign. As I said before, acquisitions are worthless if they are not earned.” Something sounded off about that...like he speaks differently around me.

“That sounded very casual.”

“I used two contractions. Forgive me.” He turns away from me, placing his hands to his forehead, probably very embarrassed that he did something so human. “Circling back to the main point, as I told Ben in the car, I am gaining the mutant vote. Mutants make up approximately ten percent of the populace and sympathizers make up fourty-three percent, giving me an advantage come election time. Listen,” Loki breaks eye contact with me to glance at the open wall, “we ought to continue this conversation in the comfort of your guest room.”

Guest room? You bring me all the way here and I have to sleep alone? I suppose that’s part of your 10th century charm.

“I get a guest room?”

“You were supposed to spend the weekend in my room, but considering the circumstances I thought I should extend to you the possibility of a little more than a sheet separating us this night.” Despite these hormonal, stupid circumstances, I feel a bloody rise in my cheeks and a cork form in my throat at the thought of his naked body curving around mine, a thin layer of cloth masking the feel of each of his nooks and crannies...

"Oh...have I made your knees tremble, little love?"

“N-no. Let me...see your room before we go to the guest room.” Instinctively locking my knees to keep from swooning to the floor, I waddle toward the doors, letting him lead me to a safer sanctuary than the throne-room of the King of the gods.
LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 17
Part 1 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 1
ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
f/n - Full name. It can be as full as you want it to be. Since I can't predict what you're going to place here, I would stray from attempting sarcasm :P
Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always felt that I was different. But I don't think I could have really fathomed what it was like to know just how different I really am. It just so happens to be the case that I'm such a freak that I have to step through this swirling, oozing portal and jump into another world...a world where I can be what I'm supposed to be. A
              Part 15 - LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 16
ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
e/c - Eye color. Be as specific as you want.
h/c - Hair color.
s/t – Stomach type. Something in the range of toned, fluffy, pudgy, soft. Even something like ‘warm’ would work in the context.
Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Am I actually doing this? “Won’t we get in trouble?” I just...am I ready? Two weeks?
Breathe.
This isn’t a commitment. This is just show and tell. I asked for this. I should be okay with it. But what if he’s just a maniac and he takes me to a back alley and points
                                      Loki's POV Part 1 -   LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part L1ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
e/c - Eye color. Be as specific as you want.
Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But what do I mean?" My pale, unleathered fist slams down on the reading podium and rattles the three books that I always keep here for reference. But it slowly eases out of the tough stone that I have coerced it into until I am lead to bracing myself against the sturdy reading aide.
"I often wonder that same thing, brother." Only one voice could boom with such marrow-wrenching ease. "Have you finally outwitted yourself?" With a hearty guffaw, my dea




And who might this new naked person be? D: Tune in next week to find out ;D




Please comment! I appreciate all comments, whether they're constructive criticism or just appreciation. :heart:

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ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:

r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
e/c - Eye color. Be as specific as you want.
h/c - Hair color.
s/t – Stomach type. Something in the range of toned, fluffy, pudgy, soft. Even something like ‘warm’ would work in the context.


Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.

Enjoy ;3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Am I actually doing this? “Won’t we get in trouble?” I just...am I ready? Two weeks?

Breathe.

This isn’t a commitment. This is just show and tell. I asked for this. I should be okay with it. But what if he’s just a maniac and he takes me to a back alley and points to boxes, calling them other gods? Worse, what if it’s real? What if he’s exactly who he says he is?

Does that pit me against Sigyn? Is he married and I’m just a fling? Weird fling to not have even touched me inappropriately. Would it make me Sigyn? I don’t think I can live up to that level of commitment, even for him. To just sit idly by while he fucks anything and everything?

Except for me, apparently.

“Just...relax. Your anxiety is infectious.” He doesn’t turn his head but I can tell he’s eyeing me. Keep your eyes on the road, Hans.

Buildings become more sparse, their space replaced with trees, shrubs, and sunshine as we head out into what appears to be a completely different state.

“Where are we going?”

“An open field.” So he’s a murderer, then. Makes sense: he’s delusional even if he is breath-taking, he has customs from the 10th century, and he’s attempting to be a politician. “I know what you must be thinking, but please trust in me.”

“Don’t have much choice now. I’m pretty sore from all of that swimming and crossfit this week--”
“You may leave any time you like. You can take the car and leave me here.”
“If that weren’t true, which is the only instance it would make sense to take you up on that, I would have to fight you. I can’t fight you.”

The man says nothing, but he casually turns on the radio and sets the frequency all the way down until we don’t even hear the static anymore. Do radios even do that? I thought they just circled back around to the highest frequency.

But maybe it’s a new feature. His car is pretty snazzy. Probably something Italian. Like that damn suit. Or maybe the thing with the radio’s something about this universe. Maybe they can’t program radios to circle back because of the ridiculous neutrino count. Stupid things. They work on radios but they don’t work on me.

Typical of the universe to work like that.

Before I fully make it back out of my chaotic, unconvinced mind, Hans veers to the left, hard, almost crashing my noggin into the passenger-side window.

“What the hell?!”
“My apologies, but this is perfect.” The man lets his lips curl toward the posh ceiling of the car in visceral satisfaction. After a minute of rocky, jumbling driving through what happens to be a very out of place plain of tall, dry grass, Hans slows to a stop, hurriedly escapes the vehicle and thrashes around in the tall grass.

Is he...moshing? Whatever it is, I’m staying in the car.

I look off so I don’t have to witness the undoing of this man’s sanity but all I find in the opposite direction of him is tall grass. Dying of boredom, I scoot over (more like trek over the extravagant console) to the driver’s seat, in which he has conveniently left the keys.

But for the split second that I take to look up at him, hoping to find him still thrashing about, Hans is now staring toward the clouds as he stands in his very own crop circle.

He catches my eyes, immediately ushering me over. No way, José. I’m not going anywhere near you. I turn the key in the ignition, starting up my beautiful getaway car and--
PHEWwwww.

The sound dissipates, smoke flying everywhere. It clears in a few seconds, leaving me to acknowledge that a gigantic chunk of ice has formed over the hood of the car. He very much promised that I would be able to leave.

“He’s ready, r/n,” Hans shouts at me, still ushering me with the same fervency in his movements, like he hadn’t just completely ruined his own very expensive car just to keep me from getting away from his crazy, ice-mutant self.

“Who’s ready?” I call out to him, finally opening the driver’s door. I accept my fate. I was dumb enough to follow a guy wherever he wanted after the second week of dating. Although, really, we made this plan last weekend, so it only took one week for me to feel comfortable enough with him. I deserve this, I think. Super patriarchal way to think about it, but common sense is common sense.

“Heimdahl.” I step through the crunchy fauna and find my way to his side. As soon as I look up, deafening, defracted light disintegrates the world around me, leaving me to fall up toward what must be the bright light of death. Who knew there were this many rainbows on the way to the afterlife?

A warm hand finds its way beneath my shirt, gripping onto my s/t abdomen and pulling me close. I guess I’m not dead? I should think that death would be a solo adventure, not something that people can just join for fun.

I look to my left, hair tousling my vision, and I see Hans’s very determined face staring up at our destination. He smells different. Maybe he put on a different cologne for the pundit thing?

Regardless of what he did differently today to prepare for this, this is a pretty neat super power. The lead up was very much a spectacle, but I guess I always knew he would be ultra-dramatic with me at some point. We sway through the winds of this light beam until we find what feels like a current and ride it up, straight into the light.
But what awaits me is no misconception of what comes after death. No virgins (at least I wouldn’t believe it if he said he was), no clouds, no ledger, no ‘nothing-ness’. Instead I am greeted by a grand, mechanical globe, encircling Hans and me in a world of gold. Through a large opening at one end of the half-sphere and a couple of shifting slits, I can see that it is night-time, wherever we might be. Well, night time on one side of this world. A sweeping gradient fills the air above us toward  a few staggering islands covered in sparkling architectural marvels.

“I found her early.” Hans speaks to someone from behind me. I flip around to face the same direction and out of the glittering backdrop I finally notice that we have a guest.

“So I saw. You were supposed to be gone for 3 months,” the man sadly states, clearly upset that he’s seeing Hans right now. His dark skin contrasts beautifully with the bright, shiny metal that adorns his large body. He is clearly strong, covered in gold plate maille. That must weigh an absolute ton. Extravagance comes at a cost, it seems.

He looks at me.

“You are not human.”

“What?”

“You are mutated.”

“What is my mutation?”I ask, hoping that whoever this guy is, he has a knack for knowing what the hell is wrong with people.

“If anyone knows, it would be the All-Father or his wife, Frigg.” He smiles, somehow taking pleasure in my naivete. Or maybe he’s finding the prospect of my meeting Odin humorous.

“We shall be off then,” Hans starts, taking my forearm and leading me out of the reception area to what looks like a translucent, abalone shell bridge. He whistles toward the wind that is beating at us from the direction of what looks like--wow.

High castles, towers of ivory and bronze, pewter and copper, gold, shoot up from lush green forests and rocky seascapes toward what looks like an extremely pleasant West Coast day. Clouds dot the sky; the milky teal colour fades into the exposed universe behind us. In fact, it looks like everything just dissipates into space, the land blending seamlessly with the shadows of forever-night and the sea spilling out into the unfillable container.

What kind of fuckery is this?

“Sleipnir has just left the stable.” Heimdahl bellows after us.
“Then we will meet him half-way.” Hans hollers back, picking up his pace to a speed with which  I just can’t keep up. What did this man do to you to make you run so quickly away from him?
“Hans,” my lips part around his name, the tune of it sounding hollow on my lips. I can’t call him that now. Not now that I know that this can’t just be some extravagant lie. “L-Loki.” I say a bit louder, finally catching his attention. He slows to fall behind me and sweeps me up, falling back into pace. The abalone below us flashes with the change in light intensity, fluttering between pale blues, dusty pinks, and burnt yellows. That’s glass.

This is definitely a lot all at once.
This is...taking in the beauty around me once more, I stop trying to quantify the situation and let it wash over me; staring off into the large cavern before us, a cap of pure darkness, I see the steed Heimdahl mentioned traipsing along toward us. Though he doesn’t traipse, really. It’s more of a gallop. A very brisk gallop.

The eight legs of the horse barrel over us as the creature leaps, assaulting the glass bridge with its heavy, sable hooves once it lands. A triumphant snort tells me that this grey horse, at the very least, carries a literal ton of personality.

No rider on his back tells me the horse is both well trained and attuned to Loki. Although Loki gave him to Odin so Odin should have the special connection--
Waiiiiiit...isn’t Sleipnir Loki’s son?

We’re going to ride his son? Is that weird? I think I feel weird about that.

“Thank you, Sleipnir.” The horse huffs and nods his head into the wispy touch of Hans’s long, thin fingers. “Come, r/n,” the instructions reach my ears through what I have just now registered as furious wind, whipping across the three of us in short, rough bursts. I step the step that separates us and as I grip his hand, he thrusts me into the saddle, jumping up to carefully nestle into the space behind my butt.

We ride toward the dark mouth of the only other end of the bridge, nearly unaffected by the wind. Sleipnir’s hooves bounce off the opalescent glass beneath us leaving clanking sounds ringing in my ears. With a furtive glance off to my left, I spot the sun steadily shining beneath a city of gold. I wonder if it just sits there. Do they have night time or do they have to travel to a different part of the world to see the stars?

The thought is ripped from me as we enter the dark cavern. Again immersed in a completely unfamiliar surrounding, I stagnantly grasp to see anything and everything. Aromatic sulfur pricks my nostrils and causes me to bury myself within Sleipnir’s mane as we travel on, no vision to help me know the way.

We shift toward our left, down one half of a cross-roads (I can only presume that was a cross-road) docile humming entreating my attention. I lift up my head to see what has to be a creature of some sort. The sound is ethereal and ancient. Seeing no light still, I turn to look at Loki. I am even unable to see him.

What is making that noise?

Does my humming not help you? Though the sound is as familiar as Xavier’s voice in my head, it is a feminine sound and clearly inhuman. Perhaps clearly is the wrong word to use here. Maybe inhuman. Sorta inhuman. Can’t really quite make it out how it isn’t human but I guess that’s probably just the telepathy thing--No part of me is human.

Insightful.

The uncategorizable voice giggles, lifting me from my sarcastic pessimism and lulling me to listen more intently.

I am the offspring of your lover and a long immortalized steed, Svathilfari. The name rolls off of the tongue of the horse’s mind, penetrating what wall I had built up around that possible circumstance. The questionable images of what could have happened echo around my mind  while I vainly search the darkness for anything to distract myself.

My consummation was not one of love, do not fret. The feminine giggle ebbs over me again, my brothers and sister, however, were a product of wild love--
“Be quiet, child,” Loki interrupts, petting the neck of his son. He can hear this too? I thought telepathy was a singular event--
And without any notice, without any indication that this dark hell would end, we are plunged into a bath of warm light that sparkles over us as it splashes off the gilded city smack-center in front of us. We’re only about a mile out from the city gates and I can make out larger than normal humanoids stalking the perimeter of the castle.

I look back at what took so long to escape; the route is no more than a tunnel, spanning the inner belly of the thin mountain between the day and the night of this place. I guess it’s just my anticipation, the heaviness of all this that makes it feel like such a long way to go just for a weekend trip.

In our continued approach, the guards become apparently giant, inklings of gilded armour adorning their massive bodies. It is not until we reach the gate, however, that I notice the threatening weaponry attached to each one. Their blank faces center on us, haunting the confidence that I once had about being Loki’s...consort? What label fits here? Am I in the same category of Sleipnir’s father?

“I am here to see the All-Father.” The warmth of the man behind me vanishes as a graceful thump tells me that he has jumped off to present himself to the gatekeepers in a manner that I’m sure is proper manners for the circumstances. Oh gods, I have to learn new manners. Ew.

“Who is the creature.” The demand falls out of the mouth of the guard immediately to our right. His posture ends where the roof of a three story building might begin.

“She is a lady of the Earth, neither human nor animal.”

“Plant?” The slender monster leans over, inspecting me. He lifts a finger to dab against my head but stops short as Loki continues his kenning.

“She consumes plants, but she is not as she eats. Her h/c hair may lack vibrancy but the apples of this realm will restore her luster. Her e/c eyes may lack clarity but the stars in this hemisphere will enable her lucidity. Her frail body may lack grace but the ways of our people will revitalize her manners. My lady is a gift from the Well of Urd,” Loki, still in the clothes of his former self and awkwardly so, bends in respect as he mentions this place, “and will realign the dignity of the realm to the Aesir and maintain the happiness and health of the Vanir.”

The guards look from Loki to Sleipnir and me and back again, only to walk off without another word. Before I can worry that the apple of my eye somehow conducted a faux pas, the levers to the left and right of the wrought-steel gate are pulled down with mighty strength and the metal is lifted from our view.

Taking no time to be impressed by the instantaneous bustle of the city beyond the gates, Loki steps back into the saddle, this time in front of me, and I cling on for dear life as Sleipnir lifts his front hooves up, neighing dramatically like his hero is Black Beauty and zooms into the market place.
LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 16
Part 1 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 1
ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always felt that I was different. But I don't think I could have really fathomed what it was like to know just how different I really am. It just so happens to be the case that I'm such a freak that I have to step through this swirling, oozing portal and jump into another world...a world where I can be what I'm supposed to be. A
              Part 15 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 15
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“The test results came back inconclusive, but I’m fairly certain that your x-gene is dormant. You are unaffected by the neutrino concentration in this universe, which is highly unusual. Impossible, I want to say.” The bald telepath wheels around the lab equipment, sharing a side-long glance with one of the other scientists on the campus and the only other scientist in this room. I’ve just learned that he goes by ‘Beast’ and does not always look so furry and blue.
                                    Loki's POV Part 1 -   LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part L1ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But what do I mean?" My pale, unleathered fist slams down on the reading podium and rattles the three books that I always keep here for reference. But it slowly eases out of the tough stone that I have coerced it into until I am lead to bracing myself against the sturdy reading aide.
"I often wonder that same thing, brother." Only one voice could boom with such marrow-wrenching ease. "Have you finally outwitted yourself?" With a hearty guffaw, my dea

This is an alternative starting point. What you show your friends is up to you, but you may want to start off with this as a teaser. If any of my stories are good enough to share, that is. This actually shows what the people want when they click for a Loki Romance, isn't it? Although...honestly. No one says xReaders have to be romance...



Please comment! I appreciate all comments, whether they're constructive criticism or just appreciation. :heart:

All Marvel characters belong to the Marvel people D: And my people belong to me :heart:

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The test results came back inconclusive, but I’m fairly certain that your x-gene is dormant. You are unaffected by the neutrino concentration in this universe, which is highly unusual. Impossible, I want to say.” The bald telepath wheels around the lab equipment, sharing a side-long glance with one of the other scientists on the campus and the only other scientist in this room. I’ve just learned that he goes by ‘Beast’ and does not always look so furry and blue.

His glasses reflect some of the sterile light of this  in such a way that I can’t fully make his eyes out. Is he staring at me?

“While it is dangerous not knowing what you can do, it is also dangerous and potentially psychologically harmful to you if we attempt to trigger it. So for now, you’re just going to have to wait it out.”

“How do you know I even have an x-gene?” Beast stops whatever he was pretending to do and walks over to a computer console, clicking a few times until a projection screen pops on, displaying what I can only assume are my chromosomes. I remember my biology lessons from the other universe well enough to know that those little x’s are my DNA. Kinda gross to think that I’m essentially just looking at myself up there on the wall, divvied up into 46 little squigglies.

“Here,” the fuzzy, blue man stretches to reach the second line of little x’s, “is where the x gene is located.” He looks over toward my face, expecting that the gesture means something to me. From my blank expression, Beast seems to gather that he ought to explain a little further. With a few more clicks and a couple swivels of his head, a new diagram pops up: three swirling helixes with illuminated acid chains pop up on the projection.

“The bright parts indicate the section I’m talking about. That is the x-gene. As you can see on the right, a normal person has the opposite amino acid chain. Even if this is reversed, as in thymine to adenine instead of adenine to thymine, the x-gene will not be present. Your DNA construction is perfectly in sync with mutant standards but…” Beast’s words peter out, indicating that I should be able to come to the same conclusion as he did about the dormancy of my mutation.

“I’m only hearing one explanation here.” I take to leaning against the nearest sturdy object--which happens to be a lab stool--as I counter his infatuation with this answer. “What if I just have a mutation that isn’t visible or annoying enough to have been obvious to me? What if there haven’t been any opportunities for the manifestation to have really made an impression on the outside world?”

“‘Though that is possible,” Professor Xavier starts, “it is unlikely. Mutations that take no drastic ‘super-powerful’ physical manifestations are generally just ‘human’ mutations. They are very normal. Akin to differing hair color and whether or not you can taste cilantro.”

“I guess,” I concede, realizing that the professor definitely knows what he’s talking about and I should probably stop trying to make myself more special than I am.

“I would not say that you aren’t special, r/n. I am only hoping to educate you about what personal issues may arise in your time here.” He pauses, clearly thinking about something. “Aside from your classmates’ interest in your personal life.”

Is he talking about Mia? Not just Mia. Phene?

But the professor leaves me to my ponderings, without another clue as to who he meant exactly. Or maybe his silence was an indication…

“That was tangential. You ought to get back upstairs now. Beast and I will run a few more tests on your DNA and see if we can’t come up with something.”

I nod, leaving a unintentional sigh at the door to the lab.

--

“Well…” Hans’s eyes lower in the setting sun of this most awful Saturday, “this is probably the best of both worlds. I get to stay with you and I get to still say that you’re a mutant and get the vote. Completely docile mutant, but still a mutant.”

“For you, Hans, the best of both worlds for you.” How could he possibly make this about him right now? “I am an outcast. I’m not a human and not a mutant. I am not even anywhere in between. I cannot masquerade as a full human because I may erupt  at any moment, not to mention they would never accept me once they knew. I cannot fit in with the mutants because of your--” Oops. Well, now I’m just ranting, so hopefully he can take that as a slip of the tongue.

“My...what?” His face has, for the first time since I’ve known him, turned to wrinkle at my choice of words. The dim light streaming in through the half drawn curtains in my room shades his face to become surprisingly uninviting.

“Sorry, I meant ‘my lack of mutation’.” Hans’s features smooth out like I just beat him over the head with a rolling pin. I’m sure that jagged, forced reaction probably has something to do with how obvious it must be that I want to blame him for something. For how Mia treated me today. Aside from the anti-date that he took her on, Hans hasn’t done anything to warrant her treating me that way.

“r/n, it would not do to lie to me.” His tone reminds me of his other name’s most common association. The god of lies...more like the god of misdirection, but I won’t mince his intentions. It would be stupid to try to get away with even small lies, particularly when I’m in such an unstable mood.

“Mia stated, quite bluntly, that your campaign and my involvement with it would become a problem for the institute as a whole, down the road. She said something along the lines that it will ‘come down hard’ on the rest of them.” Hans nods once, raises his eyes to meet mine, and extends a friendly hand that I naturally lean toward.

“My campaign will only help them. Do not be swayed by the words of a seventeen year old.” I walk to his extended appendage, wrapping my fingers around his and kissing them lightly. He feels just like a normal human to me...maybe he’s lying about being a god.

“Are you going to jump out of the window again?” I ask, recalling his feat of potentially mutant ability.

“I came in through the front door and I intend to leave the same way,” Hans smiles, pulling me close to kiss at my exposed elbow and slide down the corresponding sleeve of my dress. It falls maybe an inch before I break away, fake shock plastered over my eyes and lips.

“Nuh-uh,” I slip my dress back up, suddenly realizing that I still haven’t changed out of this crazy outfit he had me wear.

A sultry chuckle rolls off of his tongue as he watches me struggle to right myself. I should change the subject before he thinks my lack of screaming means I want more of his overzealous touch.

“So you just waltzed in?” I rifle through my drawers, grabbing a comfy set of pajamas to throw on that doesn’t show too much skin.

“The professor seems to think, unlike Mia, apparently, that the publicity would be good for the Institute. He agrees that our bond is an important stepping stone to a less judgemental world.”

“You spoke to him?”

“No,” he speaks up a bit so that his voice can still reach me around the corner of my room as I change in the privacy of my bathroom, “but what other reason would he have to let me walk in? Several mutants saw me and he has not shooed me.”

A soft heat rises to my cheeks as a I stand there, waiting to come back out until I get over the fact that he’s been spotted. It isn’t like he was shy on television, but he’s always been so sneaky here before...It feels really good that he has no reservations about coming to the institute and just flaunting those gorgeous cheekbones to all who notice him. And that has got to be everyone.

“r/n.” Hans draws my attention from the other room before audibly standing and walking over my pinewood flooring. “I know that you are purposefully ignoring my discussion with my advisor. I support and appreciate your trust.” I walk out from behind the corner of the bathroom doorframe and see that he has taken to my left-hand window,  hands apprehensively gripping the windowsill.

“You are killing me with this politician crap--”
“But I wish to be nothing but forthcoming with you.” His desire bites at my heart, instantly stopping me from mocking him. “You remember my true lineage, do you not?” He turns his head as I carefully step across the solid floorboards to meet him at the window.

“I remember it,” I counter, still not sure if I believe him. How could I? Who just professes that they’re a god? Unless he’s a fuckboy. He has called me ‘my lady’.

“I have installed my personage into the minds of certain individuals here on earth.” That’s called being a real person in a real world. What are you talking about? “I arrived not two days before you. I can...perform illusions.” He leans against the frame of the window, turning to me in a way that sets his eyes on fire. He’s too beautiful to be so stupid. Please be telling the truth.

“And I have done so; to Ed. To Elise. But most importantly and most pertinently, I have become Ben’s son.” He says simply, as if his previous statements made that admission any less crazy sounding.

“What?” He stares at me, letting it sink in. “You can’t just become someone’s son.” He raises his eyebrows for a moment but settles them, again letting me reason through what he’s saying. Why did he choose to tell me this detail? It must have some significance. And it certainly casts a much harsher light on Ben’s outrage earlier.

“I...understand your hesitancy in believing the situation.” Hans takes a step closer to me, reaching out to touch my unclothed arm. “It is an unconventional circumstance. My entire being is much the same. My entire life. Illusions and wordplay are not activities that many gods favour. Oddly enough, they benefit, but--”
“Okay, just, hold on--” He lets go of my arm as I push back to create a little bit of distance between us. “If you’re making an argument, you can’t just assume the conclusion. Please help me believe you. Talking about something else does nothing.”

“Neither does displaying my abilities. Nor would I want to use my powers on you--”
“Speaking of which, why didn’t you just put yourself in my mind? Or the mind of Xavier. Or the minds of everyone as the governor already.” No creaking in his nonpareil features shatters my resolve at my clearly logical inquiry.

“Acquisitions are worthless if they are not earned.” Something about the way that the sun has just clouded over, giving the forests of his eyes fog and shadows, tells me the sentence means more than I could ever hope to imagine. He doesn’t mean it to sound deep, I don’t think, but he’s certainly swaying me to relent.

“It’s a convenient answer.”
“Then come to Asgard with me next weekend.”

“Don’t you have a politician thing?” He pauses, apparently actually having something to do for his campaign, but it isn’t long before he opens his lips and grins for me, reaching for my waist with cradling, gentlemanly fingers.

“We can do both.”
LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 15
Part 1 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 1
ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
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r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
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Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always felt that I was different. But I don't think I could have really fathomed what it was like to know just how different I really am. It just so happens to be the case that I'm such a freak that I have to step through this swirling, oozing portal and jump into another world...a world where I can be what I'm supposed to be. A
              Part 14 -   LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 14
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Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Thank you ladies and gentlemen,” the man begins, tightly pursing his lips and delivering the best smile that he can muster under this cluster of hot, white lights. Though certainly aged, his features are rugged and solid, wrinkles only staining the creases of his eyes and the space around his mouth. Hans seems more than comfortable with the man, but the feelings are obviously not reciprocated. “Today we are gathered here to discuss the most inspiring and influential candidate tha
                                        Loki's POV Part 1 -   LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part L1ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But what do I mean?" My pale, unleathered fist slams down on the reading podium and rattles the three books that I always keep here for reference. But it slowly eases out of the tough stone that I have coerced it into until I am lead to bracing myself against the sturdy reading aide.
"I often wonder that same thing, brother." Only one voice could boom with such marrow-wrenching ease. "Have you finally outwitted yourself?" With a hearty guffaw, my dea


Short, but I think the quality might be better than the last one?

Please let me know <3



Please comment! I appreciate all comments, whether they're constructive criticism or just appreciation. :heart:

All Marvel characters belong to the Marvel people D: And my people belong to me :heart:

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you ladies and gentlemen,” the man begins, tightly pursing his lips and delivering the best smile that he can muster under this cluster of hot, white lights. Though certainly aged, his features are rugged and solid, wrinkles only staining the creases of his eyes and the space around his mouth. Hans seems more than comfortable with the man, but the feelings are obviously not reciprocated. “Today we are gathered here to discuss the most inspiring and influential candidate that is currently running for office.
“He is a handsome man from a ranch in the small town of Bardstown, Kentucky; this country runs through his veins. Although his parents were from England, he has always found the United States of America to be his one and only home.”

Kentucky? Why would he even try to sell that lineage? His accent is thick--beautiful--and his demeanor is certainly nothing like a farm boy. But maybe that’s a setup for some character he’s putting on.

“The man is courageous, raised in the fires of our nation’s indestructible Army, and gentle. He spends his his precious spare time working at a bookstore in North Salem, here in New York. New York has been his home for twenty years, serving as a stark contrast to his youth down south. Graced with both an outsider and insider perspective, here I present to you, Hans Kline, your Independent Nominee for the Office of Governor for the State of New York!”

Cheers erupt from around me, reminding me that I should probably clap for the guy. This is being televised--ugh, that must have caught such an unattractive angle of my face. I ought to focus on him. First ladies always do have that vacant, approving stare--First Lady? Gross. We’re not married. Not...yet anyway. He keeps promising forever, so I guess it makes sense that I would jump to that train of thought.

I still don’t forgive you, self.

“Thank you so much for the warm welcome to the campaign. I am delighted that you already think so highly of me and I wish only to solidify that first impression. You have commissioned in me such warmth and compassion to serve you in this political capacity. That is something truly great and remarkable about New York. The people here are kind”--are they?--“and intelligent, looking for representation within the minds of reasonable men, no matter where they used to reside.
“I am certain that I could stand up here and talk for hours about how the people of this state are the best people on Earth, but I think it might be more useful to you all if I can delineate all that I promise to do for you.” Hans pauses, taking a moment to raise his cheeks to his enraptured audience. The man certainly has a panache for looking like royalty. I hope that doesn’t ruin his campaign...
“First, I promise to make education a priority. Kids in rural areas should have as much funding as those in the city and statistically low income schools should have as much funding as wealthier public schools.”

He’s speaking like a true pundit, almost completely dropping the demeanor that he regards me with. Although still seductive, Hans’s sexual undertones have almost completely dissipated. His soft, strong hands gesture purposefully as he glides along general statements and a serious lack of action words.

The speech is not long but full of glimpses of information. Hans emanates power from the chasms of his lively eyes, enthralling everyone in my vicinity. They are all falling for him, either on the campaign promises or just because he is so damn attractive.
I have got to get some sexual release soon. I should ask him why he’s waiting to take me to bed. He did mention that he was being very careful with me…

“Again, thank you for the stellar reception. I appreciate your coming out here and letting me fill you in on the details of my candidacy. It’s time we revered and revitalized New York. Believe in the future of this great state and I will see you all again very soon.” Was that his attempt at a slogan? Quick and catchy, Loki, it’s supposed to be quick and catchy.

He waves, staring off into the crowd of adoring supporters like he has finally found his place in the universe. A tendril of his raven hair falls away from his perfectly slicked back ‘do’ as he raises his arms to the crowd to wave himself away.

At least something other than myself can get him to smile that way. I was starting to think that was impossible--you are not that important to him. Yeah yeah. But he does smile the same.

He jauntily steps off the stage, turning to me and waving me over with an exuberant hand. Never thought I would use that word to describe anything of his. He is usually so collected.

“My love,” Hans starts, pulling me into a passionate embrace as cameras flash around us. I force my skepticism down for now, choosing to support at the moment, rather than bring him to reality. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. He does feel extravagant in this suit. What is this, Italian?

Don’t even think about where he gets his money.

“Hans, we should leave,” the man who introduced Hans breaks into our vertical cuddle--ass--and Hans slowly releases my body, opting instead for the entirety of my hand. Security ushers us out to a waiting limousine where the three of us pile in and zoom away from the conference center.

“When were you going to tell me that you had a woman?” The man stares at the two of us, leaning against each other like we have some semblance of a healthy relationship.

“When you needed to know. And that was just two minutes ago.”

“I think I needed to know about this at least a week ago.” Well, a week ago he and I weren’t a thing.

“Forgive me, sir, but is this not good for my campaign?” The men exchange a meaningful stare, probably having a male duke-it-out with their eyeballs until the man speaks again.

“Is that why you are with her?”
“Certainly not.”
“Did you think about the repercussions when you kissed her?”
“Certainly not.”
“I didn’t think so. If you are serious about this campaign, make serious choices.” The criticism catches on Hans’s brow, causing him to relent first. “You, girl, why are you with him?”

“Be-cause I love him,” I blurt out, instantly regretting my words. It was the right thing to say but completely, utterly, also the wrong thing to say. I look to Loki with a plastered on lie tugging at the corners of my mouth. His mouth shifts to mirror my expression, despite what must be euphoria at the fact that I said what I said. That’s what he’s been after isn’t it? My love?

The man seems satisfied with that answer but takes up to opening his mouth again--“Where can we drop you off?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Hans and I need to have a word.” I stare at him for what feels like five minutes before my l/t lips part to answer.

“The bookstore on 25th Avenue.” Hans interjects, apparently wanting to hide that I’m a mutant.

“The store you work at? Did you just pick her up off the street?” Holy hell (Hel?), this guy is worse than I am.
“Most certainly not--”
“Then I suggest we let the lady answer for herself.” Hans turns to me, desperate and probably wishing he had told me where he lived before this very moment. I have nothing else to give the man. I’m sorry.

“The Xavier Institute--”
“You’re a mutant?!” he roars, raising himself until he hits his head on the ceiling of our vehicle. Immediately he slams back into his seat, shooting daggers at Hans with a flushed face and a moist collar. “Are you insane?”

“Sir, I--”
“I’m not dangerous--”
You are not to speak out of turn. And you,” he directs his attention to the limo driver, probably scaring him half to death, “will take us to that damned bookstore.” With a deep, short breath, the man returns his attention to Hans, “New York has seen enough chaos in the past year. They have been afraid of mutants for decades and with the Chitauri invasion last May, I am absolutely certain that a candidate that dates mutants or anything inhuman would be a death sentence.” He scoots back in his seat, back still straight and wary, facing his right shoulder to the god and leaning away from me. “Probably literally. Political suicide. Can you at least control your mutation?” He finally cuts at me in ways I didn’t think were possible.

I understand why they call them powers now, not just mutations. That word sounds like a thousand locusts eating the last roots of my pride-crop. I’ve been so relieved to be a mutant until this moment.

“I have yet to manifest.” And this mortifies him further, face aghast and posture intent at showing me how inconsiderate I am to exist.

“You could have killed a hundred people. Do you have no decency? You ought to be quarantined.”
“Ben--”
“If you want to remain in this campaign, this is the last you will see of this woman.”
“BEN.” Everyone stops. Even the driver happens to brake at a traffic light. Suddenly becoming hyperaware of what Hans had me wear, I pull at the edges of my dress, pushing it up, down and sideways in an attempt to physically shield myself from this stupid man’s vile, unwarranted hatred.

What in the world is he going to say? Anything? This silence is boring holes in my torso. I’m pretty sure that even the people on the street have stopped, judging by the length of this second.

“You’re over-reacting. Mutants are integrating.”
“Where? California? That backwater trashbin is no standard of humanity.” But Ben is clearly shaken, taking to crossing his arms and looking at the passing pedestrians. The car takes off again.
“Humanity should embrace all of itself, normal or not.” This man is too pure to be a politician. I can tell by the flipping of the advisor’s iris’ that Ben concurs. “What better way to show that I accept all residents in New York than to be involved with r/n?” Well...maybe pure is the wrong word. Still slimy. Sexy slimy though…

Ew.

“It’s such a drastic change. People hate change.”

“People hate sudden change. Perhaps we make the people love her. News will leak that she is a mutant. Everyone is in uproar, we explain that she is the same person that they fell in love with,” he pauses, “and some may not take kindly to it, but the majority of people will understand.” He leans back, grasping my hand as the limo driver pulls up to the bookstore. “Ben, there are more mutants than you would care to recognize. The government is even purchasing them from another universe--”
“Technically classified to the rest of the state as that’s an institution-Stark-funded project. We have only been open with that information in the immediate area--”
“And this is the perfect segway to relate to the rest of the world what great solutions we have come up with to protect our citizens. We can even spin it that we would do the same for us, not just mutants.” Ben looks up at the man, eyes tired and unsure.

“You intend to ruin me either way.” Either way? What does he have to lose if he stops backing him?

“I intend to get elected,” Hans’s words play on a scale I’ve not heard, “I appreciate the upstart and I promise that I will not let it go to waste.”
“You can’t make promises anymore, you’re a politician--”
“You can even pretend to be surprised when it comes out that she’s a little bit different.”
“Okayokayokay, just...stop. Driver, take us to the institute.” Ben glances at me, as if to indicate that he is finally ready to address me again. “We do still need to talk, without you. I...hope you don’t mind.”

Fucking two-face. I respect the craft but coming from someone I hate...it’s nothing more than irritating.

I don’t answer, choosing instead to leave my anger to bubble inside until I can release it in a hopefully healthy way back at the institute. Hans squeezes his hand around mine, pumping some blood back to my quietly thumping heart.

After a short, sharp stop, the limousine door opens to a very anxious-looking driver, ushering me out. Hans follows, seemingly knitted to my hand.

The fresh air is a nice change from the stew of racism I just sat in for the better part of ten minutes. A calm breeze takes that same strand of hair from earlier and flops it over the god’s face. What I wouldn’t give to see him disheveled…
“I will be back tonight. This shouldn’t take long.” With a soft hand, and softer smile, Hans grips the back of my neck with his fingers tangled up in my hair like a snake in a tumbleweed, pulling my forehead to his lips for a quick, anti-romantic kiss and leaves without another ambiguous look or hollow word. The vehicle speeds off, its contents eager to get the heck out of dodge.

At least I don’t have to suffer the indignities of the pompous butt for the next few days. Then again, Hans totally fits in that category, too. Who knows. Maybe that was it. Maybe that was the end of our shitty little love-story.

I kick one of my feet up behind me, slipping off my increasingly uncomfortable stilettos. Getting the other one off, I revel in the warm feel of the pavement beneath my bare feet and trudge back to the mansion, thinking only of seclusion.

Mahogany doors sway open before me to an unnaturally relaxing Mia, peeping through a magazine.

“No Trent?” I talk at her, still unsure about their whole situation. But if they’re going to be involved after just a few days then it’s safe to assume they would not want to be separate.

“He’s out back playing basketball with Phene.”

“Ah, why not soak up some sunshine then?”

“I’m supposed to keep out of the sunlight for a little bit.” Her teeth do look a little less yellow...but that could just be because she isn’t smiling as much as she usually does.

“Is…” I’m definitely going to regret asking since I already regret caring, “is everything all right?”

“Peachy.” She bends the word up right around the center bit, probably unfamiliar with sarcasm and how to illustrate clear points. Again, that regret thing is flaring up.

“Now come on. Nothing you can’t talk to me about.” I slouch down to sit next to the girl, dusting off my hands and loosely hugging my knees.
“Do you think I would look good in red?”

“I--” What? What even…? “Sure? Why?”
“Maybe it was the shoes,” she mumbles after ticking her head and clicking her tongue. “Is something wrong with Phene?” She suddenly leans in, eyes much less intense than when I saw them last and teeth not quite as neon.

“Phene? I have no idea. I mean...I saw him last night and he seemed…” Well, I mean I don’t want to tell her anything about my private affairs so, “...healthy.”

“No, I mean, why Hans and not Phene?”

“Excuse me?” Is your concern a byproduct of having chosen to stop pursuing Hans? Why chose that path if you’re just going to be upset about it? “What business is it of yours?” Besides, I think you know precisely why Hans and not Phene. Then again, I could be under some magic spell or judging mostly based on looks.

Then again, if Hans is to be believed, he’s a god.

“It’s everyone’s business. Particularly because he was just on teevee.” Mia gestures upstairs, alerting me to what sounds like a news broadcast. “You should stay away from politicians.”

“I...I don’t even know where to begin with this.”
“No, no, seriously. That will come down hard on you and the rest of us. Mostly the rest of us.” An olive colored hand slaps her magazine together and stands. “You’re so selfish--”
“And you’re jealous,” I stand to meet her gaze, tensing my hands so I don’t use that anger from earlier on her stupid little face. Her features remain stagnant, probably realizing that acting offended would be the weak choice in this situation. “I have to go find the professor.”

I storm off in some direction or other on the lower level of the mansion, hoping that people can stop being absolute assholes for like five minutes--Please make your way to the infirmary. Oh good. Looks like I’m about to receive some great news, too. I wish I could have just stayed in bed today. Why am I such a good--why am I so accommodating when people ask me to go to their campaign announcements?

Feh, ‘why am I such a good’ what? Girlfriend? Lover? Wife? Toy?

I don’t even have a title for what we are to each other. I’m apparently, officially, his woman, but that doesn’t mean anything. The stuff a politician does for his campaign means nothing when it comes to their personal feelings. And this is Loki we’re talking about. He could be using me for just the purpose that he outlined to Ben just now. But why put this much effort into something that you’re just going to toss aside at any given moment?
LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 14
Part 1 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 1
ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
f/n - Full name. It can be as full as you want it to be. Since I can't predict what you're going to place here, I would stray from attempting sarcasm :P
Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've always felt that I was different. But I don't think I could have really fathomed what it was like to know just how different I really am. It just so happens to be the case that I'm such a freak that I have to step through this swirling, oozing portal and jump into another world...a world where I can be what I'm supposed to be. A
              Part 13 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part 13
ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“r/n.” The soft voice of the man that I’ve slept with most recently twists over my fragmented mind and pulls all of the residual heat from my body. Well...what was left of it anyway...still a bit cold for being in the middle of March.
“Oh. Phene. What’s up?” I smile despite myself, turning to him and making my way over the five steps that separate us. His face remains porcelain, unperturbed by the sudden and whipping breeze that ruffles his hair.
“Just wond
                            Loki's POV Part 1 -  LokixReader - All for an Ounce of Love - Part L1ATTENTION: This story is best viewed in a word processing document with the following items replaced with the corresponding words.
After copying and pasting the document into an editable file, use the find and replace tool in these ways:
r/n - Reader's name. Use a nickname or what you would like to be called throughout the story.
e/c - Eye color. Be as specific as you want.
Or if you really want to have fun with it, go ahead and treat it like madlibs, using the find tool and manually replacing them.
Enjoy ;3
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"But what do I mean?" My pale, unleathered fist slams down on the reading podium and rattles the three books that I always keep here for reference. But it slowly eases out of the tough stone that I have coerced it into until I am lead to bracing myself against the sturdy reading aide.
"I often wonder that same thing, brother." Only one voice could boom with such marrow-wrenching ease. "Have you finally outwitted yourself?" With a hearty guffaw, my dea


Wow. Well. Where do I start? I cranked this out in a day, so I'm really proud of myself. I probably shouldn't be, but I didn't even write 2500 words in a day back when I was writing these things all the time.

Loki's POV...needs work. But I don't know that I'm going to fix it. I may just let it die. If you guys like it, I'll continue it in a more appropriate voice. Give him more life and personality. He's so one-note. It was probably also a by-product of me feeling like I HAD to write it. And I'm sure that's why I stopped writing altogether. Gotta stop that.

Anyway, I started a Quicksilver piece (that started all of this b.s.) but it's absolute crap. If I can fix it, you might see it up sometime in the future.

I also have seen serious interest in more Snape stuff. Please let me know if you have any other obsessions I can look into. I don't really do commissions, but I'm open to new avenues of thought :iconpervmonkeyplz:



Please comment! I appreciate all comments, whether they're constructive criticism or just appreciation. :heart:

All Marvel characters belong to the Marvel people D: And my people belong to me :heart:

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How to Catch Back up with Writing

Journal Entry: Thu Jun 2, 2016, 7:28 PM
tumblr l Gallery l Watch Me l Note Me

Holy balls. Guys.
Ugh.
I think I'm either self-obsessed or I really like nostalgia.

Anyway. That means I've re-read a certain unfinished story (and then responded to 3 year old comments) and I'm completely amped to write again. I wrote 1800 words today. I'm so happy. I don't think it's the same quality, so unfortunately the graph of how awesome my chapters are will definitely dip for a bit, but that's all in the name of getting better at writing again!

Thank ALL of you for following me even when things looked grim about me ever coming back. You were either oblivious or hopeful and I love all of you equally.

The re-read story is my LokixReader. I have grown out of the headspace that I was in all that time ago, but I am trying my best to replicate it. I do, however, remember exactly what I wanted to do with the story and my writers block on how to proceed (at least right now) is gone. 

HOWEVER. I will be going to law school in the fall, so we'll see how much time I have later on. Hopefully I can finish the Loki thing this summer and then work on short stories in what little spare time I'll have after the semester starts.


Thank you for everything everyone! I'm so happy to be back!

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  • Reading: My own stories and crying with nostalgia

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LadyLaumes
Money makes Artisans of Fools
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I write things because I want to and have the ability. And I have done what I wanted to before it was cool.

Yeah, that's right. I'm a hipster about chaos and anti-authoritarianism.

And that is totally a word.

Please do not ask me to write something for you. The muses have not graced me with the ability to be inspired by requests on the regular. My stories are my own for reasons that even I am not privy to. Thanks :heart:

And in acknowledgement of hypocrisy I has twitter. If you want to follow me, feel free: twitter.com/LadyLaumes

I make a video podcast with a friend. It's awesome and random, so take a look at it: www.youtube.com/user/BLIPcast

Tumblr? ladylaumes.tumblr.com/

I just got an Archive of Our Own account! Come see me double post, I suppose? archiveofourown.org/users/Lady…
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:iconei9:
ei9 Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2016
Happy Birthday to you Lady Laumes and may it be as lovely and sweet as you!
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:iconladylaumes:
LadyLaumes Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!! :) 
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RandomGamerLOL Featured By Owner Jun 21, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday!!! Sprinkle Pop birthday We Like To Party! (TF2 Chat Icon) Five Nights at Freddys 2- Chicas Cupcake -Icon GIF Birthday Glomp emoticon 
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:iconladylaumes:
LadyLaumes Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! :)
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:iconei9:
ei9 Featured By Owner Jun 20, 2015
happy Early Birthday to you my dear and may it be totally beautiful for you tomorrow!
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:iconladylaumes:
LadyLaumes Featured By Owner Jun 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! I'm so sorry about not posting anything...it's just that I can't really continue posting content on dA because of their policies. I am also in a drought of ideas and time. It has lasted quite a long time, too. :/

But I appreciate the well wishes! :)
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:iconei9:
ei9 Featured By Owner Mar 21, 2015
I just love your awesome writting and cosplay of yours! i even got you on my DEV WATCH and looking forward seeing more from you in the future. Keep it up Homegirl and Godspeed!
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:iconladylaumes:
LadyLaumes Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Ah! Thank you so much! Sorry for the lateness of this reply. But I appreciate you watching and supporting! :)
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reixkairu Featured By Owner Aug 3, 2014
Your writing is absolutely fantastic!  
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:iconladylaumes:
LadyLaumes Featured By Owner Aug 9, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Aw! Thank you so much! :) <3 How are things with you?
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