Skurge, The Executioner

Mantis nearly spat out her drink, blinking as though she couldn't believe her eyes. She snorted, silently wheezing as she witnessed Skurge drink from two bottles at once with practiced ease. The amused empath wondered how many times he had done this.

"You're insane," she marveled, speaking between soft giggles and small sips from her bottle. "And a bad influence on me." She downed the rest of her drink and reached for another bottle. "I like it."

Skurge was inebriated amusement at the empath getting shitfaced. All prim and proper, now she was casting all of that to the wind to do something she'd probably had no experience with.

Which meant he was probably going to have to keep a careful eye on her.

I am basing it off of a meme that was already created! I just don't like the sexual part. Its inspired off of this meme!

My muse: person who receiving ask (say "Swap" to swap roles!)

Normal

☝️ tap my muse on the shoulder

👉 Point something out to my muse

🤙 bump into my muse

📓 pass a object to my muse [specify]

🥖 offer food for my muse

🚪 knock on my muse door

🔫 splash water on my muse

🐶 nuzzle my muse [specify where!]

✂️ cut my muse hair

🐈 lean on my muse

🫂 hug my muse

👔 fix/straighten my muses clothes

🌡 give my sick muse soup!

🌲 get lost in the woods with my muse

Angry

🐺 growl at my muse

😬 snarl/show teeth at my muse

🎯 headbutt my muse

👊 punch my muse

🗣 agressively yell at my muse [can specify what is said]

🗯 threaten my muse [can specify what is said]

🫸 push my muse

🔪 point a weapon at muse [can specify]

😡 death glare / glare at my muse

👿 slam my muse on the ground / wall

🐻 claw / bite my muse full force

Angst

👩‍⚕️ try to treat my muses wounds

😨 try to calm my muse during an overwhelming moment

⛓️ try to physically refrain my muse from doing something dumb / they might regret

😺 hold my muse after they woke up from a nightmare

😭 hold my muse while they are crying

😣 find my my muse that been missing a few days

☠️ find my muse near a dead body

⏰️ wake my muse up from a nightmare

😴 find my muse passed out

Silly

😁 bite my muse

👏 tickle my muse

😱 scare my muse

🤣 prank my muse [specify!]

👅 show my muse a silly face

🥸 wear my muses clothes

🌼 put a flower in my muses hair

🃏 play a game with my muse [specify!]

👃boop my muse nose

🤝 scoop my muse up

🫳 tug my muses clothes / hair

👻 hide from my muse

Mantis had always been forced to be the bigger person. Even as a little girl, she had taken care of both herself and her father. A part of her wanted to have fun like everyone else, wanted to step down from that caretaker role. Wanted to drink, be reckless, play stupid games.

She picked out the strongest booze she could find and, without thinking, Mantis drank directly from the bottle.

"Then suit yourself," she said. "Let's see which one of us collapses first."

A drunken grin curled across Skurge's face as he watched her down some of the bottle. For someone her size, he was impressed. But he'd learned early on not to take her appearance for granted, that she was much stronger than people believed her to be.

Though that remained to be seen.

Loki did not voice the thought. He did not want Skurge turning into a loose cannon, or to have that encourage himself to become one. Keeping a casual expression, he slipped one hand around to settle on Skurge's waist, using the move as a way to look like he was 'playing the game' whilst subtly deterring any more bottom pinching so he could talk with less interruption.

Skurge almost let out another squeak when Loki's arm found his waist and drew him closer. A bittersweet way of avoiding all the grabby hands at the cost of being this undressed and this close to the Trickster. At any moment, he hoped he would open his eyes and all of this would turn out to be just some nightmare.

"Luck has never been my strong suit, Loki." His head turned slowly to take in the prince almost draped around his person. "... but you are. Can you not simply... trickster us out of this situation?" He'd heard tales of the Grandmaster but had never seen any of his talents for himself, so he couldn't be sure which were true and which were merely rumours.

Carol could have heard a pin drop. A second ticked by, then another, and another.

         “Very well,” the guard said after a moment. “We have no quarrel with Asgard. You may take him.”

         Carol managed not to look too relieved, “thank you—”

         “If the Grandmaster permits it.”       

         “The…” Carol hesitated, “Grandmaster…”

         The guard nodded once more. “Sakaar is his planet. Your prisoner will be held while you negotiate his return to Asgard.”

         While Carol suspected things would not go according to plan, this turn of events was not something she’d seen coming. She knew almost nothing about the Grandmaster. He ruled a chaotic, garbage heap planet. 

"If the Grandmaster permits it."

Skurge almost surged forward, ready to pummel the guard into the ground and simply leave with their prisoner, but he remembered her one word: subtle. Doing that would bring more attention than they already had, and that would make it much more difficult for them to get away.

He waited until they stepped in line behind the guard before he finally chose to speak.

"What's that Midgard saying? 'We're fucked'? He's going to ask for something neither of us would have any interest in paying. You, he might want to add to his rotation of gladiators. Me? Heh, well, I have enough experience as a janitor, don't I?"

The walk was long and painful, not because of the distance, but because of the glaring gaudiness that grew in concentration the closer they got to the Grandmaster's chambers. Perfume and cologne lingered in the air, and Skurge was sure he heard the giggles of a few women echoing from the inner sanctum.

Skurge would have said nothing if he'd noticed the altered pallor of Loki's face; the prince could take care of himself and didn't need some babysitter to hold his hair back if he needed to throw up.

Of course, with all this up-and-down of horseback, he was starting to feel a little "off" himself.

It was painfully apparent that the Asgardians would lose by sheer numbers. Had it not been for their timely appearance, the mimics would have overwhelmed Volstagg and his contingent. Now, they had precious minutes. Time was an enemy not even Sif could conquer.

      The enemy knew they had to protect the sword. Sif and Volstagg heard Skurge’s shout, but the doppelgangers had moved to block them. They twisted and morphed, some becoming the berserker who was being assaulted by Heimdall, others copied Sif, and Volstagg…. but the bulk that Sif stared down morphed into Asgard’s guardian.

      Eight shadow Heimdalls towered above her, great swords in hand.

      Now would have been a brilliant moment for Thor to grace them.

      “We must get to the sword,” Sif instructed Volstagg.

      “And your companion?” Volstagg asked, hefting his battleaxe.

      Sif kept her eyes on the encroaching dopplegangers. “The sword must be our priority.”

      Her friend nodded grimly, “for Asgard.”

      The duo charged, Volstagg running in ahead and knocking two down as Sif ran up behind and leapt off his shoulder. She cleaved the head off of one who tried to grapple her, and got behind another to drive her sword through. As she pulled her blade free, she hurried for the watchman’s sword lodged in the magical seal.

      Sif’s fingers coiled around the sword’s hilt and immediately felt the horrid, alien energy bite and cut against her flesh. It was a sheer cold that burned as it inched its way up her arms. The sword itself fought against her strength, refusing to budge, and the harder she pulled the more vile energy cascaded through the room.

      Then, the blade shifted. It began to slide out, bolts of darkness flying out and running across the dome of the chamber, scarring the bronze façade.

      A deathly cold hand grabbed Sif by her shoulder and tossed her backwards. She flew across the room, crashing nto Skurge and the infested Heimdall, sending all three to the floor. Sif grunted and rolled back onto her feet.

      The sword was almost free, the doppleganger that’d thrown her hadn’t noticed its position. The shadow-copy of Heimdall marched towards her menacingly. She glanced at Skurge who was recovering next to her.

Skurge licked the blood from his lip and spat it onto the ground, not caring how much it might defile this "sanctum" of travel. There were worse atrocities he could commit right now in here, and he was pretty sure no one would care, with the reflections littering the place and commanding everyone's attention.

He cocked his fist back and pummeled Heimdall right in the nose, hoping to spill some of his own blood out of spite. If they came out of this alive, he might apologize to him later. But he was pretty sure he was the last person Heimdall wanted to see or speak to.

Their exchange of blows was interrupted by a new "distraction" as Sif collided with the pair, sending the three sprawling to the ground. If he'd known, he might have braced himself and spared her tumble to the ground. But now they were forced to waste precious seconds getting back to their feet while their enemies slowly gained ground.

"The sword is almost free."

Skurge's eyes darted to the weapon keeping the gate open, his mouth twisting to one side in premature victory. So she'd managed to work it out part of the way. It would take nothing to free it now, would it?

Loki walked up to the railing and looked upon his world, his home, now bereft of his mother, and seemingly his father. Anyone who could ask him what had become of Odin either had not dared or was too in thrall to consider it.

"Why not subjugate everyone then? Why leave me as one of your free spirits? Surely, you don't actually consider me valuable." Skurge had very little in what he could offer, other than the axe he wielded. But if all Loki needed was an executioner, a threat to keep everyone else in line, that could be done with a simple lackey under his control.

"You're right. I do not. And you think it better to keep all of Asgard in the dark about it than to share so that we can all prepare, together?" All of this thinking and suggesting and idea was starting to make Skurge's head hurt. A good thing he was better with head-lopping than being an idea-man.

At the next question, Loki ensured his mouth wasn't full for his answer. He knew very well he shouldn't infer an invitation, but he was going to press his luck.

Skurge was half-surprised, half-annoyed that Loki would suggest he stay here of all places. This wasn't exactly a clean place that smelled like perfume and wine. It stunk of fish, iron, and coal. At the same time... it would be nice to have some company around for a change. Even if it was with someone like Loki.

"Tub's that way, if you need to clean up. Bed's more than big enough. And I wake up at five, so..." Skurge shrugged nonchalantly; he wasn't going to change his schedule just because an ex-prince was around. Fish needed to be caught, people had to be fed.

Mantis was slowly becoming truly, deeply concerned. Her brow furrowed when Skurge's finger jabbed at her face, but she resisted the urge to swat his hand away. A deep breath was taken, as if she were dealing with a child, and her arms crossed over her chest.

"I merely encouraged you a little. Only a little! Do you not have a spine? Are you unable to say no?" Mantis clicked her tongue. "What are you trying to prove, Skurge?"

"When it comes to drink or pretty women? Absolutely not." Skurge was pretty much hanging off the edge now, the only thing stopping him from collapsing back to the ground in a heap.