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[THIS IS ON HIATUS; NO IDEA WHEN/IF I'LL GET BACK TO IT]
Space is a mysterious place, and by a turn of shit luck Loki lands in the place he did his damnedest to destroy.
He doesn't have anywhere to go, no family to turn to or friends in Jotunheim and he's sure as hell not going back to Asgard now.
Loki has nowhere to go now but down- and maybe going down is exactly what he wants.
[AU; taking place directly after the events of Thor and in lieu of Avengers. In which Loki turns to a whorehouse for shelter and makes friends with the idea of Sex Work.
I am running with the idea that the Jotunn are all hermaphroditic with a gamut of gender presentations, androgyny being the most common. I am also running with the idea that Loki, by means of his considerable magic, is the world's most fortunate genderqueer, boasting the ability to display whatever physical characteristics he wants.
Just a warning, if you don't like that sort of thing.
I will do my best to post specific warnings at the beginning of each chapter.]
Tony falls into the closing portal, but he doesn’t make it out the other side before it snaps shut. Trapped in a universe where time runs oddly when mortals blink, and accompanied by a Not-Quite-Dead Steve Rogers, Tony mouths off to a goddess of death, goes cross-dressing with Thor and Loki, and learns to hate Asgardian engineering. Oh, and he may have caused the end of the universe as they know it.
- Part 1 of The Undone Universe
Bookmarks which have used it as a tag:
Thrymskviða reimagined with single-gendered Jotnar, cultural relativism, political machinations and bodice ripping.
- Part 1 of Open Hand-verse
Bookmarked by osingmuse
8 Feb 2013
“I didn’t understand it then, but now it seems to me fitting that such a foul, crabbed creature was the only one to ever profess himself my lover – for he was outwardly what I am in. Perhaps he forgave my deformity.”
“There is something in me that is twisted, like a tree root. It grew that way and I have never been able to unkink it. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you Loptr?”
“Liar. You have it too, don’t you? Helblindi doesn’t, nor does Býleistr, but you... you.” Laufey narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I can see it.”
Loki folded his arms over his chest. “I am not cursed – you cannot trick me into thinking I am.”
“It’s not a curse, exactly. At least... I’ve never thought of it as such,” Laufey watched him for a long moment and then began again with a seeming change of subject: “when I was quite a small child I noticed my that my fingernails had been allowed to grow unusually long. I reached up and I scratched my own cheek, and then I went to my dam and said, ‘look, look what Nál did.’ Nál was my flesh-brother, only one cycle younger than me. Naturally, since I was my dam’s favourite, he had my brother soundly beaten. Then Nál came to me, crying, and asked, ‘Laufey, why did you do that? What have I ever done to you?’ And I simply said, ‘do what, brother?’”
Loki felt a ringing in his ears. He had a hundred stories in store with variations on the same theme.
Laufey closed his eyes for a moment and rested his chin on his breastbone. “Poor, stupid creature – he was so trusting. He died for me you know, in the war.”
“Why did you do it?” Loki asked, unable to keep the eagerness of appeal out of his voice.
Laufey’s eyes flicked opened again, seeming to glow like embers. “That is the question, isn’t it? ‘Why?’ I’ve never known. Is it how we were made, a matter of sinews and skull shape? Or is like a laugh, a turn of phrase, or a sense of humour...? Sometimes I wonder if could I have changed it, if I tried harder.” Laufey let out a long, weary sigh. “Well, you will have to search for an answer on your own, Loptr. Unless, of course, you’d like to break these bonds and take me with you.”
Loki almost startled himself with the sharpness of his laugh. “You can’t seriously think I would.“
Laufey tilted his head. “Well, it’s in both our natures to be contrary.”
“At this particular moment I had much rather break your neck than your bonds.”
Laufey gave his discordant, raven laugh at this. “Ah, how I wish I could have had the raising of you, Loptr. Helblindi and Býleistr are poor sport – easily wounded and with no flair to their parries. You would have given as good as you got.”
“I’m not as much like you as you think.”
“Is that so? Think on this: how long can you hide it, this – what shall we call it – streak of perversity? And who is there who will stay loyal to you when it does inevitably show? Thrym? No. He doesn’t like monsters – he will turn on you as he did me. Helblindi is Thrym’s creature, so you may abandon hope there. I will not beg you, Loptr, or lie and say I’ll mend my ways – I have made peace with what I am. All I will say is that if you want understanding, it is here.”
“I have never sought anyone’s understanding.”
Laufey nodded, his expression one – oddly – of pride.