indie portrayal of marvel's loki laufeyson. piloted by k, (she/they, 31, est). fairly selective, medium activity, and mutuals only.

lore is based heavily on the agent of asgard comic run + norse mythology canon. oc friendly and always open to non-canon aus. plotting heavily preferred.

please check carrd before following. rules and triggers are there. | draft tracker

mature themes, 21+ only. minors and personals DNI plz

also, personals PLEASE do not reblog my headcanon/musing material! you are more than welcome to steal headcanons and i am genuinely fine with you literally copy/pasting them into your own posts if u want to i just don't want my blog escaping containment i am not a content creator 👍

This is a sideblog! I follow/send asks from @traansversal, so please follow there as well if you have privacy settings on your asks/DMs :>

❛❛ Don't lies eventually lead to the truth? And don't all my stories, true or false, tend toward the same conclusion? Don't they all have the same meaning? So what does it matter whether they are true or false if, in both cases, they are significant of what I have been and what I am? Sometimes it is easier to see clearly into the liar than into the man who tells the truth. Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object. ❜❜ ― Albert Camus, The Fall

❛❛ Anyone unable to understand how useful religion can be founded on lies will not understand this book either. ❜❜ ― Kurt Vonnegut, Cat’s Cradle

PROMPTS | INSPO | DRABBLES | OPENS | PINTEREST | PLAYLIST | WIKI

a study in: Lying as a form of candor // Whether narrating the self qualifies as authorship or obeying a larger script // Self-claiming accusations before they can take hold as verdicts // Resurrection as evidence that one is wanted // Being twice-claimed and twice disowned // Love expressed as lurking // Hoarding titles without inheritance

"You believe you're wasting my time?"

The idea delights Loki, who watches as the man turns to go.

"Nothing wastes my time," Loki continues, walking along at Knox's shoulder like he'd been invited. "I'm immortal, pet. Waste requires scarcity. Time has never been scarce for me." He grins, smug and lazy, at nothing in particular. "Mortals are the ones who count their hours. Every moment squandered leaves one fewer between them and the grave."

A beat.

"Of course, I understand why you might find that frightening. Imagine dying." Loki scoffs. Performatively, mind. He's died fifteen hundred and thirty-seven times. Painful, most of them. Terrifying, all of them. That is none of the little mortal's business.

As they walk, he flicks two fingers from within his sleeve. A pebble appears on the sidewalk that had not previously existed in this universe, and Knox's foot catches on it.

Loki—good, vigilant, caring Loki—catches Knox's arm and steadies him.

"I forget, sometimes, how much of a wild thing you can be, sweeting," Loki murmurs, his fingers rising to brush against the lock of Agatha's hair at his cheek. He finds the hair more intimate than the flesh, with her, and he cannot put his finger precisely on why.

"Yes," he continues, and his voice is pitched low now, in spite of their already being alone. They'd been in this pocket dimension for days, and Loki, if it were up to him, would prefer to stay here for days more, but the girl is restless, which means he is hours from being eaten alive if he doesn't give her something to play with soon. The thought makes him swallow.

"Yes," he says again. "I like to endear myself to them, as you put it. I find it more fun that way." His cold fingers move from her hair to the hand over his cheek, hyper-aware of how close her nails are to digging into his flesh. His next exhale comes out miraculously smooth, despite the frozen heart rabbiting in his chest like prey. He hates that. He loves it.

Sax Rohmer #1 - The Mountain Goats

Control - Halsey

Human - Sevdaliza

You Want It Darker - Leonard Cohen

I'm Your Man - Mitski

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde

Red Right Hand - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

Handsome Devil - The Smiths

Autoclave - The Mountain Goats

Loki does not know how to read. — girl. be so for real. no.

Loki tells dad jokes. — possibly, depending on verse.

Loki makes your mom jokes. — unequivocally yes

Loki was dropped out of a window as a child. — YES.

Loki bites their nails. — yes, occasionally and they seidr their nails to look normal again when they do.

Loki is not good with social cues. — loki is unfortunately TOO good at social cues, to their detriment.

Loki killed Princess Diana. — ... YOU KNOW WHAT?

Loki will remind others in the midst of chaos how good they're being. — unequivocally yes.

Loki will go feral. Watch out. — yes.

Loki did not often sit quietly.

He did now, though, feet dangling off the edge of a roof that absolutely would kill Clint Barton if he pushed. The night was cold, just shy of January, the stars fighting the clouds for dominance, and the archer was squatting next to him. The twelve inches of space between them was palpable.

"I have spent a lot of time running from myself," Loki said quietly, eyes on the rooftops spreading out ahead of them. The honesty made him sick and relieved all at once, and the distaste that produced made him sicker. He swallowed, and the honesty, for now, won out. "And I thought—arrogantly, mind—that if I ran long enough, I'd outrun myself."

He pulled one leg up and tucked his knee under his chin. The fact that he had even agreed to meet the man at all. The fact that a mortal, and a half-deaf, half-divorced, stupid mortal at that, was making him—

"And then King Loki found me," he drawled, sharp, just shy of too loud. "Have I told you about him? You'll adore this one, Archer: he's me. From the future. Mad, that. And he told me—"

Loki hesitated, which was also new for him, and which he despised immediately. Still.

"He told me," he tried again, more carefully. "That I'm... even the good version of me might not be the real one." A pause. "Not that being good is the end-all, be-all, of course," he added quickly. "You're terrible at following directions, for example. Atrocious."

He didn't speak for a long moment, hands pressing flat against the rooftop to keep them from trembling.

"Barton," he said, low. "What if I only want to be good because someone's watching? What if the... this wanting I feel is just another bloody con, and I've gotten so good at the trickery that I'm inflicting it upon myself now?"

Then, barely a breath: "What if this..." He wrinkled his nose at the implication even as he flicked his fingers between them. "Whatever this is. What if this is the thing that..." He hesitated. Again. And then groaned and tipped his head back, exasperated. "I hate this. We should have scheduled a very brief and sexless dinner date like normal people."

The silence stretched so long Loki actually looked at the archer, worried he wouldn't say anything at all. And then he did.

"Maybe in another lifetime, we get our timing right."

Loki barked a laugh at that, the loud, good one that started in his belly.

"Dramatic," he wheezed, and the knee dropped back down off the roof's edge. "You're learning from me, Barton. Next time, look up at the sky wistfully when you say it, too."

A beat. He could feel the honesty wanting to crawl up his throat again, and this time, he swallowed it hard.