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My blog is turning 8 in about a week.

On September 1st, 2012, I made my first Loki blog ( back when I was known as dearlokigodofmischief ), and it’s genuinely been one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’ve grown to love my muse so much and many new muses and projects have come out of Loki. Loki has become such a huge part of my life that I genuinely don’t know where I would be without them and I can’t even imagine not having them around. I’ve met a lot of incredible people through Tumblr and made some friends that have been absolutely brilliant.

That’s why it pains me to say that I’m... not really happy on Tumblr anymore.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love writing and roleplaying, but Tumblr has become increasingly exhausting. I’ve been on hiatus or semi-hiatus for months now, triggered by a pretty serious dip in depression, both of my cats passing away earlier this year, and COVID, but as I have attempted to bring myself back not once, but multiple times, I’m realizing that any muse or desire to write fizzles away when I log onto Tumblr.

Tumblr’s taken a swing in a direction I’m not sure it can come back from and it feels... suffocating to be here a lot of the time. Some of my best friends have left already, and I’m struggling to find reasons to stay that aren’t: well, I’ve been here forever, so I have to stick it out. For me, I think it’s time to acknowledge that change is needed. I need to breathe again and actually enjoy what I’m doing and what I’m writing again and Tumblr currently isn’t that. There’s just too much negativity here, too much weighing on my mind every single time I post, and too much that causes me anxiety.

I’m not going to delete my blogs. I’ve worked hard on them for a very long time and despite this decision, I am proud of the work I’ve done and will continue to work on these characters elsewhere. I may come back some day. I don’t know if or when that will be, but I’d like to at least have the option to return if I want.

I’m going to miss you guys, though. For so long, Tumblr was an everyday thing for me. I was on it from the time I got up to the time I went to bed, writing and interacting with people ooc. It hasn’t been that way for a very long time, but I miss those days, and I miss when I wanted to be on Tumblr enough to do that every single day. I love you all and I want to thank you for the incredible journey because it really has been special. This wasn’t a decision I made lightly and, to be honest, I felt a little sick making it. Even now, I feel uneasy, like I’m giving up or letting go of something so special to me.

But it’s time, for now, to move on and do something for the sake of my own happiness. There are so many things in my life causing me stress that I have no control over, but this? I do have control over and I need to do it for myself.

STARTER FOR @storiesofwildfire​ PLOTTED | THE IRON BULL & LOKI

Ah shit, shit, shit - it had to be demons! Demons and the fade. Ever since getting to Thedas he’d seen more piles of evil than he’d ever see on Par Vollen. Creepy fuckers crawling up on your skin. They made his horns itch ad he was ass deep in them, swinging with every inch of force he could muster, thinking hard about the nice hot bath he’d have when it was all done. 

There would be bubbles. Or someone would die.

It’s more of a challenge to keep track of each member one eye down but he’d had time to adapt. Right down to movements and style, keep turning, the recoil of hits would give him pause enough to catch sight and go again. He’d had practice keeping straight steps, hah, Krem must miss the days of him falling on his face every few hours. 

To his right Dorian is moving quickly, him and Sarah mixing bottles and magic to set fire to everything around them. It’d be pretty if it wasn’t scary as all shit. Sometimes he wonders if that Elf isn’t a little bit mage by the way she manages not to go up with it, dancing back and cackling madly as twinkle toes sweeps his staff past her to throw up a wall of ice.

Boss is making short work of enemies with him, blood thick on her blades. Absolute whirlwind with a knife, Adaar suited them. The Ben-Hasraath would’ve made good work of them if they were born to the Qun. ‘Course they wouldn’t damn well be here if the Qun had spread a little further.

The Bull swings down hard, gives a grunt and grins when the body falls under him. Pride demon falling to its knees with a shriek he definitely wont drown out with a bottle later. None of his boys are down, no death calls but the ringing quiet of the battlefield is always better than the noises these things make. 

Just for the pleasure he grinds his heel down, huffing through the smoke. 

“Aw shite, tell me that’s all of ‘em. It is right? Tell me it is!”

“I have many talents but tragically Demonic maths is one of my lacking. It seems clear for now.” 

Bull snorts at the easy back and forth between the pair. Despite appearances theres no heat, all of them too worked boneless to really panic about holding political ground. Dorian even waves a hand passively, a few arrows flying of their own accord back to their shooter. 

“Is everyone okay?”

Kali wipes blades on the fabric of her thighs and all but bounds over to them, reminding him of a needy nug in the way she pushes back blonde hair and fusses over the elf. Sera likes it, shows in how she preens but Bull? Well, a solid ground would be just as hot right now. 

“Not to interrupt the warm and fuzzies boss but the big hole in the sky?” 

It’s a feeling he’d never want to imagine but couldn’t escape now. Like a weight over his head, pulling, heady. It’s like drinking too much and following ass you know will kill you in a dark alley out of the Tavern. Temptation - it’s always temptation with the fade and the more rifts they close the less open for business it was. 

This one seemed particularly angry. Kali turning determinedly even as beneath their feet kicks up spires of not-real-probably-deadly green crystal. 

Did he mention he hated this? Ground shouldn’t move like that. It’s ground. It’s solid. 

“Right. Last one! Then we can go back to camp and get some dinner. Kadan, take border with Dorian, Hissrad, watch for any stragglers.” 

Ugh because that was a thing. Closing them seemed to be a big game of tug and war. Boss once called it stitching with their whole hand rather than a needle. As she closed it there was a chance for something on the other side to try and cut the thread, pull back, get through. Pulses, kick back. It didn’t happen often but usually what dropped dropped with claws and a whole new set of nasty. 

Routinely they get into place, Bull turning the weapon in steady hands as he keeps an eye firmly on the gaping chasm of creepy. Sometimes - breath held and tension tight - it almost seemed pretty. Horrific beyond all reason but still. And sometimes after he thinks he might have seen more than green past it, they all did if the nervous twitches and wondering mage eyes gave him any true indicator. 

They didn’t talk about it. There was too much potential for apostate or feral claims if they did. 

The first boom of connection rocks them. Sera cursing up a storm as she sticks an arrow into the ground to grip and steady herself. Dorian at his side bracing with his staff. He plants his heels, glances to Adaar as she seems to steel herself, squaring shoulders and shoving against the impact. A soldier in her, solid in horns. 

It should be a connection, one forward, one back and then it knitted shut tight. Very flashy, sure, but quick only…. it doesn’t start to shut. 

Not even fucking close.

“How fascinating. It appears to be redirecting! Don’t sever now, you may well bring reality down if you do!” 

Redirecting. Bull turns his head to look at Dorian in disbelief, the Serabaas only shrugging when the thread tethering Adaar to the damn fade throbs twice then flickers gold and without any kind of not-freaky warning goes a bright, burning blue. 

It’s never been blue before.

“Defransdim, what is it doing!” 

Kali hides her panic well but The Iron Bull see’s it. Canines snapping, a faint tremor in her fingers. 

“It’s fighting back! I - I’m trying to close it but it’s pulling me! Saar-” 

Not good. He’s moving without thinking, knowing the others are following. Last time anything batshit happened with one of these they were dragged upside down with a fear demon, the basic manoeuvre was to grab for Adaar and keep her ass here in the real world and act as an anchor so that she could slam the door on whatever reached back. 

The Iron Bull grabs for Sera who grabs for her Kadan and Dorian plants his staff to the ground and begins to feed magic into her like a very pretty parasite. It’s easier not to think about what’s going through him in that moment. 

One last pulse hits hard. Funnelling upwards like a bolt of electricity, hitting the middle and arching across the length of it. Twisting until it curls like ice webbing along the edges and as Bull yanks on the three of them with a kind of language that Tamma would hide him for the world goes fucking still. 

It’s messed up, the ringing in his ears that leaves only their breath fogging infront of them. Going on for what feels like forever before in a rush that would leave anyone heaving the world comes back with a vengeance. 

Sera is tiny but she’s not light and Dorian looses all grace, knocking against his horns on the way down, Kali bracketing them all with a yelp. 

It’s closed. But not for free. 

“Dorian, protective stave! Sera, healing flask, Bull, help me catch!”

If it hadn’t been thought enough to day he takes a second to reiterate their situation. 

Shit. 

A lot of freaky things have fallen out of the sky for them the past few months. Demons, monsters, Grey Wardens, that one memorable time with the Qunari but as Bull surges forward, bracing for impact and rolling to soften it what’s lying in his arms is something else entirely. Blue softer than the ice in the sky curls up like a soft grey, lacing across skin and closed eyes, decorating curved horns with a sort of elegant scribe that has his heart picking up pace.

The Ben-Hassrath didn’t have many answers on the people that came before them. Most of the stories were trauma oral, unreliable. Messy. Some had probably been intentionally erased by their predecessors but what they did have deep in the archives were faded images, half drawings. 

Lost memories.

“Vashedan.” 

“Bull?” 

Careful are the hands that cradle it close. Trying to stave off some of the ice on soft skin. The Temassaran were going to flip later. Later, when the body against him isn’t half dead. Coming through the fade hurts, keeps something of you in it and this shouldn’t even be - 

A Kossith. 

Adaar had been the one to help him up. Between the two Qunari it was easy to hold the reality, sheltering them from the harsher lights of the wastelands with wide eyes. Getting back to camp? That was more of a task given the track of crap and lingering bandits but despite their confusion and fascination Sera and Dorian were good people, keeping up a hell of a frontline between them and any dangers. 

Cullen had appeared pretty quickly with the other two advisors and a small team of healers and The Iron Bull is thankful when Kali doesn’t let them order him out of the tent. Krem bringing by food every few hours as he sets up in a corner. Whoever this was (he’d tripple and quadruple checked it wasn’t a demon) they were one of his people and the humans might be fine but they were selfish. If they thought a Kossith was here… 

So they sat guard, humming away as they worked on sewing a more fitting set of clothes. Seriously, a Qunari leader and these people still didn’t know that horns meant bigger neck holes. The only stops were to coax some water into them and wipe down the fever. 

They were beautiful though. Qunari they had to mimic the markings of their kin. War paint, decorative colours. They drew and marked their skin to show what was lost, celebrated it even as they mourned but the lines so sweet on blue didn’t leave when he dragged a gentle cloth over them. They were born there, meant to be there.

Tamma was going to loose their mind. 

Bull just sat and hoped that the healers had worked their (no pun intended) magic so that the Kossith would wake well. 

“Feels kind of weird talking to someone who’s out cold. Normally my guys talk back, loudly. Actually, it’s less talk, more mouth.” Bull pauses, adding another thread to the rope, stitching protection symbols alone the knotted threads. “Come on baby blue, Cassandra might start beating my ass if she can’t ask questions soon. It’s a fine ass, you’re risking a real winner.” 

♔—- As time passed on Asgard and Loki grew older, it became more and more evident that they either didn’t belong there, or they just didn’t want to be there in general. A mixture of both, really. Asgard was a difficult place to manage for even the most normal of Aesir, but Loki was anything but normal. From the intense raw nature of what seemed to be endless magic, to the way Loki identified themselves and refused to meet any Asgardian norm, it painted a target on them, one that was easy to see and easier still to hit.

They wouldn’t go as far as to say the entire realm treated them poorly—though many days certainly did feel that way—but existing on Asgard was difficult for a number of reasons. Every day, they had to fight for the respect that simply should have come with their title as Prince of Asgard. Every day, they were pitted against their own brother, belittled for their use of magic to get ahead, and constantly put into a position where they had to prove themselves over and over again.

Not to mention, fingers always jammed Loki’s way when anything went array. Everything was blamed on them, they were accused of anything that that went wrong, and more often than not, they were guilty until they proved themselves innocent. Being told you were wrong, or you were doing wrong, over and over again, when you knew you weren’t, wore on a person after a time. Demonized, berated, and talked down to, Loki rarely saw this sort of behavior cast at their elder brother, never saw friends or acquaintances held to this completely unrealistic standard.

Loki was just... too different, deviated from the norm too much, and it made people uncomfortable.

A fact that Loki needed to accept and acknowledge, but that understanding made it no less difficult. In truth, there were still days after centuries upon centuries of being alive that Loki still questioned if they weren’t simply made wrong. Perhaps their peers were correct? Perhaps there was something broken inside of them that made it impossible for them to behave the way they were meant to. Self-doubt rooted itself to Loki’s very core and breaking free of its grip was no simple task, but they managed as well as to be expected.

Odin, though? The self-proclaimed All-father, protector of the Nine Realms, and King of Asgard, father of Thor and Loki, husband of Frigga... He was the real strain that kept Loki from actually feeling like Asgard could ever be a home. Odin tied a metaphorical collar around Loki’s neck and squeezed it so tightly that breathing proved to be a particularly challenging task. Gods above and below, he was choking the life out of his child and he showed no remorse for it.

Odin feared Loki’s magic. Every day, Loki’s power grew and developed to new heights with no signs of slowing down. Loki’s children, for some reason or another, posed a huge threat to the All-father, and Odin would do absolutely anything to keep Loki and their kin not only under control but at any beacon call. Of course, the storyteller’s skillset was far too useful for Odin to simply sweep under the rug and pretend like it didn’t exist at all, but allowing it to roam free with no restrictions or hold? Absolutely not. Odin did everything in his power to keep Loki under control and submissive, like a tamed lion, only listening to his master.

That dynamic didn’t really work, though, did it? Loki wasn’t a controllable beast that Odin could simply use when he wished and put back on the shelf for next time. The more restrictions that existed and the more Odin attempted to cage Loki, the more Loki pulled away, not only from the All-father, but from all of Asgard itself. One couldn’t hope to survive while being pulled around like a dog, expected to fight when told to, but otherwise left in a cage.

Odin used Loki, abused Loki, and stripped Loki of everything that made a person thrive. Gods, he even stole Loki’s children away from them and refused to let Loki see them or, in Fenrir’s case, even know where he was. And Loki didn’t even know the full extent of everything that Odin had done to them over the course of their lifetime.

Many times, Loki simply thought about leaving. Clearly, Asgard was not a home, and while many people on Asgard did truly love them, there were many more who didn’t. Would Asgard miss them? Yeah, probably, when they found themselves in a world of trouble that only Loki could probably reason out of and protect them from, sure, but they only liked what Loki could do for them, not Loki themselves.

Loki could be happier leaving, though, right? Who cares what happens to Asgard? Sadly, Loki actually did care... Loki loved Asgard overall and turning their back on the entire realm was something they weren’t sure they could actually do. As much as they knew that it might very well be better for them personally, turning their back on the place their grew up, a place that had the potential to be so much better than it was, that was filled with so much life and so much love... It couldn’t possibly be all bad.

A place that gave birth to Asmund and his brother, Gael, Fandral, Egil, Ylva, Alvida, Sigurd, Astrid, and so many others that they genuinely came to love couldn’t be inherently bad.

That mentality kept bringing them back. The belief and hope that things could genuinely be better for them, that without Odin in charge, changes for the better could be made... Though, watching Thor grow up to be just like their father had definitely dampened Loki’s hope for a better tomorrow on Asgard, they could not bring themselves to completely turn their back and give up hope entirely.

It would have been so much easier to say ‘good-fucking-day, catch you next century,’ but Loki never left for more than a few weeks, maybe a few months at a time. On very rare occasions, Loki found themselves losing track of time and not returning for a year or two, but for beings that lived for thousands of years, that felt more like the blink of an eye.

As they grew older, and Odin’s hold on their leash became tighter and tighter, they realized just how much they needed time off of Asgard. Their solo trips—or trips where they dragged a friend or two—were more and more frequent and they desperately needed to have longer stays away before they felt regenerated and recharged enough to return to their home that wasn’t really a home.

This current trip was meant to be much of the same. They told very few people they were leaving, a practice that became more and more common because as Odin discovered Loki’s desires to disappear, he put more obstacles in place in hopes of stopping their ventures. In truth, Odin really couldn’t. Loki knew ins and outs of Asgard that even the All-father himself didn’t know existed and if Loki couldn’t use a physical exit, they had magic that would definitely allow them to vacate the realm in no more than a few moments. Odin couldn’t actually stop Loki, but not having to deal with his attempts to block the younger prince from leaving certainly made things easier.

Only Asmund and Egil were properly informed, as Loki often interacted with them more than anyone else in Gladsheim. As soon as they disappeared from Heimdall’s sight, Heimdall would know Loki wished to leave and be left alone for a time, and he would hopefully steer Odin away from any attempts to drag him back. Heimdall, perhaps more than anyone, understood why Loki needed to leave and have some time to simply breathe and enjoy life without Odin and the rest of the Aesir breathing down their neck.

They didn’t really have much of a plan. Midgard to see Jörmungandr, but that was really as far as Loki’s formalities went. These trips were often go-with-the-flow sorts of things and that was the non-structured and chaotic lifestyle that Loki so desperately craved, these trips of exploration and self-reflection were the only chance they really got to even spend that sort of time going.

Seeing their son was an exciting prospect, though. The only one of their children they got to see on a regular basis was Sleipnir, and because Odin wanted everyone to believe that he had no relation to Loki and that he was little more than an impressive warhorse, getting to spend quality time with him was difficult. Not impossible, but difficult, nevertheless. Jor, though? Jor was really the only one Loki could easily get to, as Hel was usually trapped in Helheim, and getting to the Realm of the Dead was a challenge in and of itself, and Loki didn’t even know where Fenrir was... Odin had gone so far out of his way to hide Fenrir from the rest of the world, every time Loki got too close, Odin would move him again.

Why Fenrir, specifically, they weren’t sure. Why did Odin fear him so much more? They felt like they would dread the answer, but it was something that needed to be uncovered. A challenge for another day.

For now, making their way to Midgard to hug their giant noodle son was all they could really think about. The sweet relief of being free of Asgard for just a little while and catching up with one of their favorite people in all the Nine had them racing from the passageway to passageway. Portal conjuring was still a tricky thing for them, not impossible, but long distances of travel could be unstable and difficult to maintain, so unless Loki absolutely had to, they attempted to travel through the branches of Yggdrasil through hidden passages and portals that most didn’t even know existed. It took longer than creating their own path and it took longer than the Bifrost, but it was safer.

So they thought, anyway...

Sometimes, they took the wrong path, sure, and sometimes, they found themselves in a realm they’d never planned on visiting or, on very rare occasion, didn’t even know existed, but as Loki made their way across one of Yggdrasil’s branches, something pulled on them violently. An unseen force wrapped itself around them, squeezing the air from their lungs in a similar fashion to Jörmungandr coiling himself around his mother and hugging tight. The poor serpent didn’t realize just how large he’d gotten or how strong he was, but this force? It didn’t really seem to care that it could be causing severe damage.

Loki kept moving forward, desperately attempting to pull out of this thing’s hold, but every time Loki took a few steps, the grip around them tightened, making each step harder than the last. They couldn’t breathe, couldn’t really reach for anything, and while they’re magic pushed itself out in an attempt to bubble around them for protection, it had little effect on whatever held the God down.

The pressure finally brought Loki to their knees, unable to stand and barely able to keep their eyes open, the realm between realms blurred and any details that should have been easily identifiable faded away. An unpleasant sensation wafted through them as their body rearranged itself cell-by-cell. Not painful, exactly, as Loki was so used to shapeshifting that they absolutely understood what it felt like to change everything about themselves, but when they were forced to do so by an outside influence rather than making the conscious decision? Their body resisted the change as much as it could, but ultimately, whatever had to hold over the poor, lost traveler won out.

Thankfully, Loki was unconscious by the time they were spat out of the sky, their shape a form they would not recognize if they were to open their eyes and look properly. Decorative horns in a beautiful shade of medium brown, ridged and detailed, curved from beneath their hair, which was longer and fuller now than it had been before, nearly hitting their hip. A breathtaking shade of cobalt covered every inch of their body, and lighter blue markings ran the length of their arms, legs, and torso. Some more decorative markings decorated the back of their palms and their forehead, and had their eyes been opened, they would have been a striking and almost haunting ruby color that seemed to glow in the dark.

Some splotches of their new flesh appeared more purple than blue, though, especially around their cheeks and chest. Any area where heat rose up within them took on a violet hue, indicating some sort of reaction beneath the surface, in this case, a fever breaking out as Loki’s Jotun form had a much more difficult time regulating changing temperatures, especially ones as drastic as falling through what Loki would eventually learn was called the Fade.

Hours passed, and the Jotun did not wake. Their fall was rough enough to make those around them wonder if they would wake up at all and how long that would actually take, but at long last, after the sun had set, risen, and set again, Loki’s eyes finally began to flutter.

“Mmnn...” they groaned quietly, struggling to open and keep their eyes open for any length of time that would allow them to process what happened or where they were. Any light hitting their pupils hurt, and slowly, as if every move they made caused them discomfort, an arm finally came to rest over their eyes, shielding them from any intrusive sources of light.

“Asmund?” Loki called, voice cracked and broken from dehydration and discomfort. It was a safe assumption that they were with their healer friend. If something happened to them on the battlefield or something had attacked them, Asmund would have been the first person to be called in. They didn’t quite remember leaving Asgard. So much of what happened before the Fade took them was fuzzy. “Asmund, are you there?” they called, louder this time, though they instantly regretted it. That only made their throat ache more.

Frustrated when Asmund didn’t answer, they finally moved to push themselves up, squinting as they did in attempts to let their eyes adjust enough to fully open. They noted just how heavy their head felt, though, and as they moved to sit, their newly formed horns knocked against something at the head of the bed they were resting in.

“Ow!” they hissed. “What the Hel—”

Both hands were on their horns in an instance and very suddenly, their eyes were wide open. “What...” they murmured, voice softer and devoid of frustration now. Confusion seemed to take its place as fingers gingerly caressed the length of both horns. Loki wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the sensation of this added height and weight, but the horns usually came in the form of a helmet, not real horns...

The one valid thing Thor Ragnarök did was actually show off how much Loki did as King of Asgard. Loki changed the imperialistic nature of Asgard and gave the realms their freedom again--the realms that Odin forcibly took, by the way. Loki rebuilt the realm to be better than ever after it was horrifically destroyed by the Dark Elves in The Dark World. Loki put an emphasis on arts and recreation, allowing Asgardians to express themselves more freely without ridicule, in healthier ways. Loki introduced them to the idea that one of their princes was actually Jotun and they came around to the idea, accepting it, proving that they could unlearn and grow from their systematic racism. They were prospering and not being shipped off to war every other day. They were growing in love and acceptance rather hate and control.

In short, Loki actually helped Asgard grow for the better and the people were happier because of it. Loki, the one person who had all the reasons in the worlds to hate Asgard, tell them to choke, and leave, stayed when no one else--not even THOR--did, and Loki did fucking right by them. Honestly, Loki did more than Asgard even deserved. 

Meet Fanny! 

The newest addition to my family. A few months after my second cat passed away, I realized just how... lonely I was without a fluffy companion to love and take care of, so I started looking for cats I could adopt. Of course, I still miss Pooter and Monster deeply, but I finally got to a point where I felt I could start looking for another animal.

Fanny just turned one. She was a stray when the shelter found her ( missing the tip of one of her ears ). She lived with a foster mother for a while, was adopted, and then returned to the foster mom after a month because she was terrified of the family’s small children. When I got her, she was very skittish and burrowed herself under or behind anything to hide. She’s been with us for about a month now and she is settling in so well. Very happy, sleeping with me, and extremely playful. I really feel like we were the right family for her.

The Gist--

Because of what’s going on in the world and personal issues, I’m slow and I’m having a hard time keeping track of time at the moment.

I’m working on coming back because I do want to get back into my craft, but it’s going to be a process and I will still be slow.

I’m easier to get ahold of on Discord. If you’d like to add me there, feel free to shoot me a message here! I’ll give you my discord.

I’m still very much in the plotting headspace, so if you’d like to plot, I’d love to! It’d really help me get back into things. Please just read my rules ahead of time.

I am also going to try to get back onto my multi as well, so you can also find me at @grimoireweavers​

More Info--

So, as most of you can tell, I haven’t been around much. I’ve made a couple of posts earlier in the year about losing both of my cats. On top of COVID and everything else that’s going on in the world, I’ve been stuck in quarantine and self-isolation for months and life has been? Difficult. I’m okay. I’m healthy, I’m safe, and I’m doing what I can for my mental health. 

Right now, I’m just having a very hard time sitting down and focusing on anything that forces me to concentrate and be alone in the quiet. For that reason, I’ve taken to a lot of other, more social things, like online gaming and binge-watching stuff with my roommates. I need the noise to keep me distracted and get me through the day and, unfortunately, that does impact my writing. I’m also having a really difficult time keeping track of time. It feels like I blink and another week has gone by. All the days are blurring together, which has me not realizing just how much time has passed since I’ve been active or since I’ve replied to messages. My sleep schedule is also more broken than ever, so I’m sleeping at odder hours than usual.

For these reasons, I am going to keep my semi-hiatus status up. I am so full of muse and I want to get back to writing, but I am going to acknowledge that I will be slow. I’m not gonna be on every day. There may even be times where I disappear for a week or more again, but I’m going to do what I can to slowly get back into what I love doing. I just need to find a healthy balance because taking care of myself and my mental health has become so incredibly important. More important, honestly.

loki & algrim ;; @algrimthestrong​

Loki posed a legitimate question. Was Algrim really sure the others would not return to the caves? He thought it unlikely that the elves would come back to search again where they had already searched without success. Still, it was better to be prudent than rash, and Algrim was nothing if not prudent. “I see no reason why they would waste precious time double-checking a supposedly empty cave and risk their prey getting away from them,” he replied, “but perhaps you had best keep your spell up until the morning as an added precaution.” Though the immediate danger had passed, the tension inside him had not abated. The chase had left him feeling wound tight with excitement and the anticipation of something he could not yet define - a release, a culmination of sorts. A climax.

If they were going to spend the night in the cave, they would have to find a more comfortable place to wait out the end of the hunt. Algrim’s attempt to put his intention into action took a disastrous turn, however, resulting in a graceless stumble to the ground as his foot caught on the edge of a rock. Concern for Loki, whose fall Algrim had cushioned with his own body, dulled the wave of pain in the elf’s skull and back. Fortunately, Loki turned out to be unhurt, but Algrim’s relief was short-lived when Loki’s teasing accusation sent a jolt of mortification through the elder and an uncharacteristic flush burned through the dark hue of his skin.

Any protest Algrim might have uttered against Loki’s jest died on his lips when cool hands covered his own, arresting both his searching fingers and frantic thoughts.

Algrim’s sense of moral and social responsibility towards Loki forbade him to view the new king of Asgard as anything other than the prince he had guided and tutored in his youth. To think of Loki as a sensual attraction went against his every principle, and yet he found himself wanting nothing more than to surrender to the intimacy of the moment. Had Loki not reacted to him with the same confused but genuine vigour and arousal Algrim had felt when they had lain pressed together in the mud?    

A few centimetres was all it would take. Did he have the courage to take that leap?  

Either way, one of them had to act, to throw off the trappings of convention and conscience, or to retreat behind the safe walls of common sense.    

Algrim’s nerves were strung taut with a painful tension as he found himself fighting a losing battle with his own emotions and desires. This was not the Loki he remembered. They had parted as friends, many years ago, and met again as two men allied against a common enemy. Loki had grown into a competent and charismatic king in whom Algrim had found a kindred mind. Their reunion had presented them with a new path, a fresh start, and without being aware of it, they had drifted towards each other, slowly but steadily, until a collision became inevitable.

Algrim held Loki gently, craddling his cheeks in his palms. He felt Loki’s warm breath on his lips and realised what the younger was about to do. He could have stopped Loki and perhaps he should have, but he did not. He welcomed the meeting of their lips and responded eagerly to it. His lips parted under Loki’s gentle pressure, inviting him inside and permitting him to explore and penetrate. Loki’s lips were warm and soft, his tongue playful and teasing. Their kiss was fuelled by a desperate passion as the stress and strain of the past months found an outlet.

When Loki adjusted his position to straddle Algrim’s hips, the elder became acutely aware of the physical proof of the god’s excitement. The way Loki’s erection pressed against his own sent a wave of pleasure rolling down to Algrim’s groin, but it was Loki’s answering moan that ripped out all thought and wrecked his restraint. Algrim started kissing him harder, with more urgency, more force. His tongue probed and stroked, curled and petted, thrust and darted as their bodies strained against each other. The damp chill of the cave, the scrapes and bruises from their fall, his duty to his own king and realm, it all faded away as he focused only on the wonderful sensations Loki had stirred in him.

Without breaking the kiss, Algrim slid his hands free of Loki’s grasp to roam over his shoulders and back. His body pressed against Loki’s, his hands caressing with amorous intent, stroking his chest and sides, squeezing his thighs before sliding around to cup his rear, encouraging him to rock against him. The rush of emotions was overwhelming. Algrim’s breathing quickened to short, sharp pants as he rolled his hips against Loki’s, giving himself over to the heady pleasure of having the lovely king in his lap return his affections with a desperate eagerness that matched his own.      

When their lips parted and their eyes met again, the usual calm in Algrim’s gaze had been replaced by a hot new intensity. Emboldened and reassured by Loki’s initiating the kiss, the principled elf had succumbed to emotions he could no longer fight.

Keeping one arm around Loki’s waist, Algrim braced his free hand against the ground and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He embraced the younger again and dipped his head to kiss Loki’s neck, licking and nipping at the tender skin.

Seeking something more, his fingers felt for the hem of Loki’s tunic and, with a swift upward tug, Algrim pulled the soiled piece of clothing up and over Loki’s head. The thick tangle of glowing vines that covered the ceiling of the cave bathed the king’s half-bared form in dim blue light. The sight entranced him and Algrim could not help but pause and admire Loki’s physique, slender and graceful, toned by years of physical training. From Loki’s throat, Algrim laid a trail of kisses down to his chest, laving each rosy nipple with his tongue before drawing one into his mouth to suckle greedily.

♔—- Loki had no idea how Algrim would react to his forwardness. While he suspected that they both had some mutual feelings for one another, it was a very different thing to act upon them. Algrim may not take his advancements well, may push him off, may take offense despite the very obvious physical response to their continued closeness. Loki didn’t know what to brace himself for, but he did know one thing for certain: This was a turning point that they both needed. It was something that had been brewing ever since Algrim first came back into his life, and eventually, they would have to address it.

Samhain was probably not the time, nor the place, but it was the first real opportunity they actually had to be alone and to let loose on one another. Physically, emotionally, and otherwise...

He saw this going one of two ways. They were going to allow one another to explore this new direction and they would do it feverishly and eagerly, or Algrim was going to reject Loki’s advancements, push him away, and draw a clear line in the sand. Needless to say, he prayed for the former, and if the latter transpired instead, what would really happen to him? To them? Algrim had become such an important part of Loki’s life, not just on a personal level, but on a political and professional level as well.

Following this path could... well, in short, ruin everything, but it was a risk that Loki felt needed to be taken. Sooner or later, leaving this unaddressed would likely end up being their downfall. Pursuing a romantic relationship with Algrim could make everything they’ve worked for crumble, but leaving their relationship teetering on the edge could ultimately cause far worse. Just thinking about the growing tension between them was enough to reassure Loki that this was the best decision they could make, even if the timing and the place left something to be desired.

But hey, the thrill of being hunted and potentially caught only added to the overall mood, didn’t it? Loki had never been shy about enjoying such dangers...