Landing On Top Of Sam, Then Rolling Off With This Expression On Your Face?? Sir?? 🤨

Barty: Is your dick big enough for you to act the way that you do?

Evan: Yes.

Barty: Let's see it then.

Evan: Fine.

~~~

Barty: He can keep acting the way he does.

Kate: I just kept talking, I couldn’t stop!

Clint: Isn’t that, I dunno, life for you?

peter: listen. FUCK trains

bucky: this guy gets it

Tony: Can you keep a secret? Stephen: Do you know anything about my life? Tony: No, I do not. Good point.

Tony: Listen, I know I'm not your father-

Peter: I know.

Tony:

Peter: I know you're not my father Mr. Stark.

Tony: But-

Peter: Do you know?

Tony:

Peter: Do you know you're not my father?

Tony: Yes, I know.

Peter: You don't act like someone who is not my father, Mr. Stark.

Simon: I hate those privileged as$holes called monarchy.

Willhelm: Sounds great, wanna be gay together maybe?

A beginning of a fic I’ve written in my head but too lazy to actually write #give loki a good found family. The outline of the full story is here

The fic takes place straight after Loki’s fall when he lands on Tatooine. Post ‘Thor’ 2011, post ‘The Book of Boba Fett’. Unreliable narrator!

Falling.

Shining rainbow becomes a dot.

And then – nothing.

Just – nothing.

The Void between the worlds is black. Not like the darkest night, not like ink – there’s nothing to see. Not a tiniest bit of any light. Loki cannot even see his own hand – it is stretched out? Or not there at all? He cannot feel it – cannot feel his own body… has it even been his own, though?

Loki cannot breathe. Does he even need to? He doesn’t feel his chest rising and falling, he doesn’t feel his own heartbeat. He cannot hear anything. And it’s not the eardrum pressure of the Bifrost – there’s just nothing to hear. No sound. Is he trying to speak? Scream? He doesn’t know. He cannot feel his own movements.

All he really comprehends is the voice in his head, repeating the end of his life over and over.

‘No, Loki’.

Not worthy of love. Not good enough in the eyes of his father. An evil little shadow of his glorious shining brother.

‘No, Loki’.

Only a couple of days – and Thor is forgiven for everything he presumably did wrong. A couple of days on Midgard – and now he is ready to lay aside his centuries-long hatred and contempt for the Jotuns and protect them. A couple of days in a company of a pretty woman – and he’s worthy of love and throne and respect again. A true son of Asgard.

‘No, Loki’.

Not you.

Thor has changed and is on his way to become a true king – but not because of your centuries-long attempts to make him better. But because of just a weekend with a woman he’s in love with. Of course, her influence is much more potent than his own brother’s.

Not brother’s.

Never was.

Loki wants to feel righteous rage… hurt… anything at all. But instead – numbness. Nothingness. Inside and outside of him. What’s the point of feelings, anyway? All that exists is nothing. Darkness. Weightlessness. Is he falling seconds? Centuries? Is he even falling? Is he still alive?

Loki doesn’t want to be anymore.

Yellow.

Numbness inside of him twitches.

Bleary yellowish spots in the darkness.

Becoming closer. A pull of gravity feels stronger and stronger.

Gravity?

Must be some space body. A planet? A star?

Loki doesn’t think it’s a star. He cannot see well – everything is blurred, he cannot distinguish the shape – but it’s not hot, not bursting with flames.

He summons all the magic he has, encasing himself in it and preparing for the entering the atmosphere – if there will be any. Not that he has any further plans – he feels like he isn’t capable of thinking anymore. All that remains is his survival instinct.

And then – heat envelops him. He tugs on his magic tighter and squeezes his eyes shut. Feeling of falling becomes much more prominent, and he hates every second of it.

But a feeling of something is glorious.

The sound of him piercing the air deafens him.

But he can hear again.

The impact of the landing makes his head ring and creates a cloud of… sand? Yes, yellow sand erupts around him. Loki feels particles of it covering his hands and face with a hot veil. And it feels. Just… feels. Oppressive air fills the lungs, Loki tries to breathe with a full chest, and it hurts as nine hells, just like the rest of his body, but he feels again.

For a second Loki is happy. It feels nice to be alive.

And he blacks out.

---

A sliver of light.

Sounds. Voices?

A feeling of movement. Transportation. Hardness behind his aching back. Smell of something greasy, machine oil and old clothes.

Chill.

Loki tries to open his eyes. Barely manages – it’s like an impossibly heavy task.

Tries to move his arms and legs – they’re as if made of uru metal.

The head is dizzy, he hurts all over. His eyes can hardly see – they got used to pitch darkness (‘No, Loki’… ). But he recognizes some kind of a room full of unidentifiable items scattered all over. A group of small hooded creatures is huddled together talking in half-babbling half-chittering language Loki cannot yet understand – he isn’t able to put his own thoughts into words, much less grasp speech of someone else. He tries and his head hurts more.

They saved him?

Loki looks down and realizes why he feels chilly. He has no armour, no weapons. Only his inner tunic remains unscavenged. Even his trousers are robbed of metal pieces, and his boots are also absent. He sees his daggers in the hands of the creatures – they twirl them, obviously discussing. Not going to give them back.

Loki stretches his hand and summons them.

Or tries.

The daggers barely move. Several items on the table nearby fall. The creatures jump and gasp, look at Loki with their glowing eyes from their hoods. Loki feels nauseous and helpless. Even his magic betrays him.

And then he loses consciousness again.

---

Next time Loki awakens, he’s in water. The liquid blurs everything around, it’s impossible to orient. A breathing mask fills his mouth and nose. But he landed in a desert… where does water come from?

Wait.

A mask.

Someone put him there.

Fear squeezes his heart.

He tries to stretch his arms forward, and his hands land on a cool barrier.

Panic is like a rising tide – almost chokes him. He pushes his hands desperately, and the barrier flies open. Loki sits abruptly, water splashes around him. He pulls the mask out of his mouth, and medical smell fills his nose, the same taste lingers on his tongue. Not water, then. Heartrate slows down, panic curling in his belly like a wild cat ready to jump.

He rubs his eyes and looks around.

A spacious room of stone. Sunlight – he didn’t know he would miss sunlight – falls through the window, and Loki notices two suns. He’s in some kind of a tank with medical equipment attached to it. He’s naked albeit a small towel around his hips. There’s a robot nearby, but it doesn’t move.

All memories of… yesterday?... fill Loki’s head.

The fight on the Bridge.

‘For you! For all of us!’

‘No, Loki’.

Thor’s shouts and an outstretched hand as if he’s trying to catch him.

Falling.

Shining rainbow becomes a dot.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Sand.

Scavengers.

And – here.

His head is surprisingly clear, as if after a long and nice sleep, considering all confusing events before. His body doesn’t hurt anymore. He reaches for his magic – still weak. He feels weak.

Loki guesses this is what the tank is for – healing.

But what for should he be healed? He doesn’t have any purpose. Doesn’t want to live. (Or does he? – memories of the marvelous feeling of sand on his skin, of hot air around him make him feel… feel what?)

Then he hears steps outside the heavy door. Confident. Closer and closer.

And all Loki has is weak magic (he’ll be barely able to move a fallen leaf), a tired body (still stronger than many species, though), and a sharp mind.

The door opens. A man walks in almost lazily, but Loki knows instantly – casualness is a facade. Burly, covered in green armour, with weapons like blasters and hidden knives attached. Darker skin, bald head and face covered with nasty-looking scars. A posture of a seasoned warrior. Air of not-quite-a-threat, but someone who definitely knows how to be in charge of a situation.

 – Awake already? Good, - the voice is gruff, but somehow not unkind. – Do you speak Basic?

 – I do, - words scratch the dry throat, Loki barely holds himself from coughing. It’s hard to project dignity when you’re wet and naked in unknown circumstances. – Where am I?

 – Mos Espa, Tatooine. And I’m the Daimyo here. Boba Fett, - the man raises an eyebrow, clearly prompting Loki to introduce himself.

Loki starts to assess the situation. In an unknown place – he’s never heard about Tatooine planet – in the dwelling of an obvious leader of this place. Not good. But this Fett allowed him to be healed – so he has something ready for Loki. Some kind of use. On the other hand, he obviously doesn’t recognize Loki as an Asgardian prince… former Asgardian prince… whatever. It’s not time to dwell upon it. The fact is, now Loki can hide what he’s capable of, assume another personality and get out of here.

 – Loki, - he hears his mouth saying as if from the outside of himself. – And I’m lost.

‘What in the Nine Worlds is wrong with you?’ – his mind screams immediately. Panic raises its head, ready to uncurl completely and cover him all. Did the Fall through the Void affect his brain-to-mouth connection? He won’t get anywhere spewing the truth right and left and wearing his heart on his sleeve!

 – Then the droid will help you get dressed and take you to the kitchens, - Fett nods to the robot, and the thing whirs in response. – We’ll figure something out, don’t worry. – He flashes a brief smile and leaves the room.

This reception is… baffling. Loki’s not a person to trust easily – his own trust turned out to be catastrophically misplaced – but this seems as a… good start. Maybe, he won’t have to fight his way out. Panic settles down.

Maybe, he’ll be able to use this situation to his own advantage. After all, he survived the Fall through open space. Maybe, he’ll find some other life out there.

If someone is interested in writing a whole story (by chance), please inform me.

Wille, after Simon kissed him during the costume party: maybe life does have a meaning after all

Simon: that kiss was a mistake

Wille: oh

Wille: I hope I die

Sam: You could have announced yourself.

Kate: Hi, I’m Kate. I’m crawling through the crawl space.

This does apply to them both.