Even fucking Odin recognizes Loki’s being genderfluid:
(Yea I know; Odin’s language is rather binary, but I’ll take my victories where I can get them.)
Loki’s also canon bi btw. Well I mean they don’t quite understand the need to label themself, but yea:
Basically they are one of my faves and I’m really glad that they are more or less one of the good guys since their reincarnation, even being on the Young Avengers team! (Also their being genderfluid and bi has been more explored since becoming more a of a good guy, so it’s not the whole queer coding villains thing either!)
An Incredibly Minor Yet Underrated Marvel Character
SO imagine this. You are a member of an proud and violent warrior race. You are the handmaiden to the less violent, but probably still p proud Princess of the intergalactic empire that most of your race belongs to. One day, your Princess, whom you have served loyally for many years, gets into some bullshit star-crossed lover biz with a man who is 1) a member of the race your race has been fighting since basically forever, B) A member of the organization that has consistently opposed your empire, and Lastly) who lives on a different planet and is therefore not gonna be around when she predictably finds out she is having his goddamn baby, because of course she is.
So your Princess has this illegitimate half alien baby now, and her Dad (your Emperor) is like “wow, no” and tries to have it executed on the grounds of he doesn’t like it and he’s in goddamned charge. And the Princess is looking at you, and her eyes are doing that thing were they’re really big and sad, and her lips all pout-y, and if you had the frame of reference you would totally call her out on doing the puppy eye thing but you don’t. So what do you do?
You take the weird hybrid baby to his baby daddy, effectively exiling yourself from your home planet, to go live on a planet were Everyone Actually Really Totally Hates You, also known as Earth(y).
Sadly, when you get to earth, were you expect to find help from the legendary super-powered princess impregnating warrior hero guy and his buds, you find that the guy has quite rudely kicked the bucket. So here you are, on a hostile alien planet, with no one to help your exiled self or your exiled prince who is half a species you have almost no experience with and also has a price on his head despite the fact he is not yet strong enough to lift said head without help. So again, what do you do?
You become a realtor.
Yeah, that’s right.
You get a fucking job.
You settle the fuck down. You take a fucking Pilates class. You raise the weird fucking hybrid baby. In fact, you do not just raise the weird fucking hybrid baby; You love and cherish the weird fucking hybrid baby. You teach the exiled heir to your proud, violent, warrior race to be a sweet ‘lil nerd, who loves pokemon, and comic books, and tries to talk through confrontations, and occasionally hits you with those puppy-dog eyes that got you into this mess in the first place. You don’t complain though. You don’t complain when you’re Prince gets sick and there is literally no one on earth to turn to (because who on earth has ever seen a skrull/kree hybrid, much less treated one?). You don’t complain when you hear Galactus destroys your homeworld and everyone on it (how can you explain to your Prince that you’re grieving for his mother when you’re right there?). You don’t complain when the Super-Skrull burst through the wall of you adopted son’s friend-who-is-totally-not-his-boyfriend-mom-oh-my-god’s apartment and demands your baby go with him. Because you are not someone who backs down from a challenge.
You pull out a gun and you challenge the greatest warrior of your proud, violent warrior race.
But it’s all right. Your son’s not-boyfriend will save him. Your weird alien hybrid baby will become a weird alien hybrid hero, and later, a weird alien hybrid King. Somewhere, your Princess and her bullshit star-crossed lover are very proud. Somewhere else, the galaxies worst Grandfather is very furious. But you, well. Who even are you?
I don’t know. Because the writers never bothered giving you a name. It’s all right though. You know why?