loki spear

fancykraken  asked:

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

we’re going to pretend you just sent this and it hasn’t been in my inbox for god knows how long okay? okay. 

(we’re also going to pretend this fic is halfway decent just so you know)



It seemed like the ultimate trust exercise.

Just close your eyes, Loki said, and hold out your hands. The thought made Tony’s stomach crawl up into his throat. But Loki had been with him for nearly half a decade now—loyal, if not always stalwart. Loki was a fickle creature that would disappear for months at a time, only to show up in their bed one morning, drowsy in the pink sun and blinking like nothing had happened.

They’d fought, sometimes side by side and sometimes face to face, and Tony could count on both hands the number of new scars he had because of Loki. Which Loki would wave away like a bad smell, claiming the number of times he had saved Tony’s life was recompense enough.

(Though those nights found Loki paying extra attention to every mark, kissing them and running his tongue over the bumpy flesh, that dawn might see them fade a little more.)

And now this.

The scar on Tony’s shoulder twinged. It was a result of Loki driving a spear into him, and, while most people could tell the weather with their knees or joints or scars, this mark acted more like a mood ring for deciphering Loki.

So Tony closed his eyes and held out his hands.

Loki grabbed his left, the long fingers calloused from a thousand years of gripping spears and dagger hilts. But Loki’s hands themselves were tender as he wrapped something around Tony’s palm, then slid a ring onto his fourth finger.

“There,” Loki muttered. “Mine.”

“I—” Tony stared at the shiny golden ring. “You… you could have asked.”

Loki shrugged, because he never asked for anything in his life. He raised Tony’s hand and kissed the knot he tied. “Would you have denied me?”

“We do spend half of our time at war with each other.”

“I hate and I love,” Loki said.

Tony couldn’t stop his laughter because god, did he know that feeling. Hate and love, and too fickle to settle on one. He touched Loki’s cheek. “Until death does us part, I guess.”

Loki’s smile was sharp, lovely. Full of promise. “Not even then, my Stark.”


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I have a love/hate relationship with this fic. I liked the initial plot but then I butchered it in the writing process. Here’s hoping you guys like it anyway. The request was made by @cosmichorse95, so thank you for giving me some more Thor to work with. Enjoy, my darlings!

Prompt: Would it be possible for you to write a fic with Loki and Thor when they were growing up and were actually close? Loki saving Thor’s ass xD I love the way you write Loki. It’s all of the perfect-ness 😍 And everyone else for that matter :)

“Fairytale”

Thor laughed boisterously, his voice echoing amongst the cavern, as he tossed Mjolnir in the direction of the great beast’s head. He knew not what he was fighting; only that it was doing a very good job. A challenge! Something he had been lacking, and was thoroughly enjoying.

“Come, Loki, is this not fun?”
“You and I have varying definitions,” Loki replied with a smirk. He did not have Thor’s brutish strength or weaponry but he had enough cunning to outdo both. He’d recently petitioned a pair of elven smithers to craft him a weapon both light and deadly. They’d done him proud.

Though he was anxious to test his new spear, the violent thrashing of the beast’s tail was hardly encouraging.

Thor and Loki had suffered a troublesome childhood, often pitted against each other and forced to compete. Early on they had realised that this would culminate in the jeopardising of their relationship. Eager to avoid this, they came to a resolution. Since their adolescence, the young princes had disguised themselves as vigilantes to search the land for trinkets and quests. Loki had brought home many interesting artefacts from the ventures and Thor had tales galore to tell at feasts. Their incognito adventures not only left both men happy, but also ensured that they had plenty chance to fight aside one another, rather than against.

Today was no different.

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Part 5 - How Brock Brought Judgement On Loki.

From Sacred Texts. 

It was then that Loki, with the wish of making the Æsir and the Vanir friendly to him once more, brought out the wonderful things he had gained from the Dwarfs -  the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir. The Æsir and the Vanir marveled at things so wonderful. Loki gave the spear as a gift to Odin, and to Frey, who was chief of the Vanir, he gave the boat Skidbladnir.

All Asgard rejoiced that things so wonderful and so helpful had been brought to them. And Loki, who had made a great show in giving these gifts, said boastingly:

“None but the Dwarfs who work for me could make such things. There are other Dwarfs, but they are as unhandy as they are misshapen. The Dwarfs who are my servants are the only ones who can make such wonders.” Now Loki in his boastfulness had said a foolish thing. There were other Dwarfs besides those who had worked for him, and one of these was there in Asgard. All unknown to Loki he stood in the shadow of Odin’s seat, listening to what was being said. Now he went over to Loki, his little, unshapely form trembling with rage - Brock, the most spiteful of all the Dwarfs.

“Ha, Loki, you boaster,” he roared, “you lie in your words. Sindri, my brother, who would scorn to serve you, is the best smith in Svartheim.”

The Æsir and the Vanir laughed to see Loki outfaced by Brock the Dwarf in the middle of his boastfulness. As they laughed Loki grew angry.

“Be silent, Dwarf,” he said, “your brother will know about smith’s work when he goes to the Dwarfs who are my friends, and learns something from them.”

“He learned from the Dwarfs who are your friends! My brother Sindri learned from the Dwarfs who are your friends!” Brock roared, in a greater rage than before. “The things you have brought out of Svartheim would not be noticed by the Æsir and the Vanir if they were put beside the things that my brother Sindri can make.”

“Sometime we will try your brother Sindri and see what he can do,” said Loki.

“Try now, try now,” Brock shouted. “I’ll wager my ‘head against yours, Loki, that his work will make the Dwellers in Asgard laugh at your boasting.”

“I will take your wager,” said Loki. “My head against yours. And glad will I be to see that ugly head of yours off your misshapen shoulders.”

“The Æsir will judge whether my brother’s work is not the best that ever came out of Svartheim. And they will see to it that you will pay your wager, Loki, the head off your shoulders. Will ye not sit in judgment, O Dwellers in Asgard?”

“We will sit in judgment,” said the Æsir. Then, still full of rage, Brock the Dwarf went down to Svartheim, and to the place where his brother Sindri worked.

There was Sindri in his glowing forge, working with bellows and anvil and hammers beside him, and around him masses of metal - gold and silver, copper and iron. Brock told his tale, how he had wagered his head against Loki’s that Sindri could make things more wonderful than the spear and the boat that Loki had brought into Asgard.

“You were right in what you said, my brother,” said Sindri, “and you shall not lose your head to Loki. But the two of us must work at what I am going to forge. It will be your work to keep the fire so that it will neither blaze up nor die down for a single instant. If you can keep the fire as I tell you, we will forge a wonder. Now, brother, keep your hands upon the bellows, and keep the fire under your control.”

Then into the fire Sindri threw, not a piece of metal, but a pig’s skin. Brock kept his hands on the bellows, working it so that the fire neither died down nor blazed up for a single instant. And in the glowing fire the pigskin swelled itself into a strange shape.

But Brock was not left to work the bellows in peace. In to the forge flew a gadfly. It lighted on Brock’s hands and stung them. The Dwarf screamed with pain, but his hands still held the bellows, working it to keep the fire steady, for he knew that the gadfly was Loki, and that Loki was striving to spoil Sindri’s work. Again the gadfly stung his hands, but Brock, although his hands felt as if they were pierced with hot irons, still worked the bellows so that the fire did not blaze up or die down for a single instant.

Sindri came and looked into the fire. Over the shape that was rising there he said words of magic. The gadfly had flown away, and Sindri bade his brother cease working. He took out the thing that had been shaped in the fire, and he worked over it with his hammer. It was a wonder indeed–a boar, all golden, that could fly through the air, and that shed light from its bristles as it flew. Brock forgot the pain in his hands and screamed with joy. “This is the greatest of wonders,” he said. “The Dwellers in Asgard will have to give the judgment against Loki. I shall have Loki’s head!”

But Sindri said, “The boar Golden Bristle may not be judged as great a wonder as the spear Gungnir or the boat Skidbladnir. We must make something more wonderful still. Work the bellows as before, brother, and do not let the fire die down or blaze up for a single instant.”

Then Sindri took up a piece bf gold that was so bright it lightened up the dark cavern that the Dwarfs worked in. He threw the piece of gold into the fire. Then he went to make ready something else and left Brock to work the bellows.

The gadfly flew in again. Brock did not know it was there until it lighted on the back of his neck. It stung him till Brock felt the pain was wrenching him apart. But still he kept his hands on the bellows, working it so that the fire neither blazed up nor died down for a single instant. When Sindri came to look into the fire, Brock was not able to speak for pain.

Again Sindri said magic words over the gold that was being smelted in the fire. He took it out of the glow and worked it over on the main-anvil. Then in a while he showed Brock something that looked like the circle of the sun. “A splendid armring, my brother,” he said. “An armring for a God’s right arm. And this ring has hidden wonders. Every ninth night eight rings like itself will drop from this armring, for this is Draupnir, the Ring of Increase.”

“To Odin, the Father of the Gods, the ring shall be given,” said Brock. “And Odin will have to declare that nothing so wonderful or so profitable to the Gods was ever brought into Asgard. O Loki, cunning Loki, I shall have thy head in spite of thy tricks.”

“Be not too hasty, brother,” said Sindri. “What we have done so far is good. But better still must be the thing that will make the Dwellers in Asgard give the judgment that delivers Loki’s head to thee. Work as before, brother, and do not let the fire blaze up or die down for a single instant.”

This time Sindri threw into the fire a bar of iron. Then he went away to fetch the hammer that would shape it. Brock worked the bellows as before, but only his hands were steady, for every other part of him was trembling with expectation of the gadfly’s sting.

He saw the gadfly dart into the forge. He screamed as it flew round and round him, searching out a place where it might sting him most fearfully. It lighted down on his forehead, just between his eyes. The first sting it gave took the sight from his eyes. It stung again and Brock felt the blood flowing down. Darkness filled the cave. Brock tried to keep his hands steady on the bellows, but he did not know whether the fire was blazing up or dying down. He shouted and Sindri hurried up.

Sindri said the magic words over the thing that was in the fire. Then he drew it out. “An instant more,” he said, “and the work would have been perfect. But because you let the fire die down for an instant the work is not as good as it might have been made.” He took what was shaped in the fire to the main-anvil and worked over it. Then when Brock’s eyesight came back to him he saw a great hammer, a hammer all of iron. The handle did not seem .to be long enough to balance the head. This was because the fire had died down for an instant while it was being formed.

“The hammer is Miölnir,” said Sindri, “and it is the greatest of the things that I am able to make. All in Asgard must rejoice to see this hammer. Thor only will be able to wield it. Now I am not afraid of the judgment that the Dwellers in Asgard will give.”

“The Dwellers in Asgard will have to give judgment for us,” Brock cried out. “They will have to give judgment for us, and the head of Loki, my tormentor, will be given me.”

“No more wonderful or more profitable gifts than these have ever been brought into Asgard,” Sindri said. “Thy head is saved, and thou wilt be able to take the head of Loki who was insolent to us. Bring it here, and we will throw it into the fire in the forge.”

The Æsir and the Vanir were seated in the Council House of Asgard when a train of Dwarfs appeared before them. Brock came at the head of the train, and he was followed by a band of Dwarfs carrying things of great weight. Brock and his attendants stood round the throne of Odin, and harkened to the words of the Father of the Gods.

“We know why you have come into Asgard from out of Svartheim,” Odin said. “You have brought things wonderful and profitable to the Dwellers in Asgard. Let what you have brought be seen, Brock. If they are more wonderful and more useful than the things Loki has brought out of Svartheim, the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir, we will give judgment for you.”

Then Brock commanded the Dwarfs who waited on him to show the Dwellers in Asgard the first of the wonders that Sindri had made. They brought out the boar, Golden Bristle. Round and round the Council House the boar flew, leaving a track of brightness. The Dwellers in Asgard said one to the other that this was a wonder indeed. But none would say that the boar was a better thing to have in Asgard than the spear that would hit the mark no matter how badly it was flung, or the boat Skidbladnir that would sail on any sea, and that could be folded up so small that it would fit in any one’s pocket: none would say that Golden Bristle was better than these wonders.

To Frey, who was Chief of the Vanir, Brock gave the wondrous boar.

Then the attending Dwarfs showed the armring that was as bright as the circle of the Sun. All admired the noble ring. And when it was told how every ninth night this ring dropped eight rings of gold that were like itself, the Dwellers in Asgard spoke aloud, all saying that Draupnir, the Ring of Increase, was a wonder indeed. Hearing their voices raised, Brock looked triumphantly at Loki who was standing there with his lips drawn closely together.

To Odin, the Father of the Gods, Brock gave the noble armring.

Then he commanded the attending Dwarfs to lay before Thor the hammer Miölnir. Thor took the hammer up and swung it around his head. As he did so he uttered a great cry. And the eyes of the Dwellers in Asgard lightened up when they saw Thor with the hammer Miölnir in his hands; their eyes lightened up and from their lips came the cry, “This is a wonder, a wonder indeed! With this hammer in his hand none can withstand Thor, our Champion. No greater thing has ever come into Asgard than the hammer Miölnir.”

Then Odin, the Father of the Gods, spoke from his throne, giving judgment. “The hammer Miölnir that the Dwarf Brock has brought into Asgard is a thing wonderful indeed and profitable to the Gods. In Thor’s hands it can crush mountains, and hurl the Giant race from the ramparts of Asgard. Sindri the Dwarf has forged a greater thing than the spear Gungnir and the boat Skidbladnir. There can be no other judgment.”

Brock looked at Loki, showing his gnarled teeth. “Now, Loki, yield your head, yield your head,” he cried.

“Do not ask such a thing,” said Odin. “Put any other penalty on Loki for mocking you and tormenting you. Make him yield to you the greatest thing that it is in his power to give.”

“Not so, not so,” screamed Brock. “You Dwellers in Asgard would shield one another. But what of me? Loki would have taken my head had I lost the wager. Loki has lost his head to me. Let him kneel down now till I cut it off.”

Loki came forward, smiling with closed lips. “I kneel before you, Dwarf,” he said. “Take off my head. But be careful. Do not touch my neck. I did not bargain that you should touch my neck. If you do, I shall call upon the Dwellers in Asgard to punish you.”

Brock drew back with a snarl. “Is this the judgment of the Gods?” he asked.

“The bargain you made, Brock,” said Odin, “was an evil one, and all its evil consequences you must bear.”

Brock, in a rage, looked upon Loki, and he saw that his lips were smiling. He stamped his feet and raged. Then he went up to Loki and said, “I may not take your head, but I can do something with your lips that mock me.”

“What would you do, Dwarf?” asked Thor.

“Sew Loki’s lips together,” said Brock, “so that he can do no more mischief with his talk. You Dwellers in Asgard cannot forbid me to do this. Down, Loki, on your knees before me.”

Loki looked round on the Dwellers in Asgard and he saw that their judgment was that he must kneel before the Dwarf. He knelt down with a frown upon his brow. “Draw your lips together, Loki,” said Brock. Loki drew his lips together while his eyes flashed fire. With an awl that he took from his belt Brock pierced Loki’s lips. He took out a thong and tightened them together. Then in triumph the Dwarf looked on Loki.

“O Loki,” he said, “you boasted that the Dwarfs who worked for you were better craftsmen than Sindri, my brother. Your words have been shown to be lies. And now you cannot boast for a while.”

Then Brock the Dwarf, with great majesty, walked out of the Council House of Asgard, and the attending Dwarfs marched behind him in procession. Down the passages in the earth the Dwarfs went, singing the song of Brock’s triumph over Loki. And in Svartheim it was told forever after how Sindri and Brock had prevailed.

In Asgard, now that Loki’s lips were closed, there was peace and a respite from mischief. No one amongst the Æsir or the Vanir were sorry when Loki had to walk about in silence with his head bent low.

Balder is one of the Aesir gods. He’s the son of Odin and Frigg, the wife of the obscure goddess Nanna, and the father of the god Forseti.

He’s loved by all the gods, goddesses, and beings of a more physical nature. So handsome, gracious, and cheerful is he that he actually gives off light.

When Baldur began to have dreams of his death, Frigg went around to everything in the world and secured from each of them an oath to not harm her son. Confident in Baldur’s invincibility, the gods amused themselves by throwing weapons and any random thing they could find at Baldur and watching them bounce off of him, leaving him utterly unscathed. Loki, the guileful trickster of the gods, sensed an opportunity for mischief. He inquired of Frigg whether she had overlooked anything whatsoever in her quest to obtain oaths. She casually answered that she had thought the mistletoe to be too small and harmless a thing to bother asking for such a promise. Loki straightaway made a spear from the mistletoe and convinced the blind god Hod to throw it at Baldur. The projectile pierced the god, and he fell down dead. The anguished gods then ordained that one of them should go to the underworld to see if there was any way Baldur could be retrieved from the clutches of the death goddess, Hel. Hermod, another one of Odin’s many sons, agreed to make this journey, and, mounting Odin’s steed, Sleipnir, he rode down the world-tree until he came to its dark and damp roots, wherein lies Hel’s abode. When he arrived, he found his brother, pale and grim, sitting in the seat of honor next to Hel. Hermod implored the dreadful goddess to release Baldur, and after much persuasion, she replied that she would give him up if and only if everything in the world would weep for Baldur – to prove, in other words, that he was as universally beloved as Hermod claimed. The whole world did indeed weep for the generous son of Odin – all, that is, save one creature. The giantess Þökk (“Thanks”), generally assumed to be Loki in disguise, callously refused to perform the act that would secure Baldur’s return. And so the bright god lay in the grave until Ragnarok, the destruction of the cosmos at the end of the great mythical cycle, after which Baldur returned at last to the land of the living, gladdening the hearts of the creatures who filled the new world.

While we know relatively little about Baldur due to the fragmentary nature of the sources of our knowledge of pre-Christian Germanic religion, he evidently occupied a position of renown and splendor in the hearts and minds of the heathen Germanic peoples. He seems to have been regarded as the divine animating force behind the beauty of life at the peak of its strength and exuberance. His death marks the beginning of the decline into old age, night, winter, and ultimately the death and rebirth that characterize Ragnarok.


TITLE: I Guess This is Growing Up

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 4

AUTHOR: The-stuttering-kiwi

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being another child that Odin has brought back to Asgard to raise alongside Thor and Loki.  Thor is always the older brother but even from a young age, there is no denying the connection between you and Loki.

RATING: General

NOTES/WARNINGS: Sigrun is 15 and Thor is 19 and Loki is 18.

Sigrun tried to blink back tears of frustration. She was incredibly aggravated with herself, and Loki was getting on her nerves.

“You just have to focus.” He kept encouraging, so much so that the words had lost their meaning.

“I know that.” She snapped back. Her head was pounding, and she felt sweat flowing down her back in a steady stream.

She had been practicing magic for almost six years now, and in that time, she had just  barely mastered the basic spells and illusions. Loki had stuck by her as a tutor; taking away any extra time would have had for himself.

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Ten strach na wróble z ostatniej plastyki jakoś się nie zmienił xD
A to drugie to … tak musiałam to jeszcze raz narysować XD
Swoją drogą tak przeglądam swój tumblr i … Jzz ! Przecież ja tu nie wrzuciłam skończonego Linka! Albo mój komputer go nie widzi … w każdym razie znajdę zdj i wrzucam ^^ Najwyżej będzie 2 razy ^^