Multiple Personality:

and pudding.

i ship hawkeye/loki, sorry my bad.

Tom Hiddleston chrome theme

So I created a download link: here

=)

Lady Loki. Not going to finish it anyway.

aliciakiki:

thoki4ever:

under-base:

/Loki is sentenced to death, and Thor makes the execution himself/

They knew this was the best way,

Loki wanted his end to come by Thor’s hands.

And Thor was too selfish to let Loki’s death be not his.

Fingers tightened around his brother’s pale neck. Over countless times he had his hands clasp around it. Early with the rising sun, sometimes after feasts and meals, then at midnight tangled cozy on the bed. Even before his supposed to be- coronation from the past.

But those were never like this, never to really hit the purpose he was determined to do now.

He fixed his thumbs over Loki’s throat. Loki swallowed a shuddering gasp. Thor pressed in, fingers twitching when he felt the pulse beating underneath, the living proof of his brother.

Thor choked on his own sobs, air suddenly too heavy for his lungs. As his fingers sank more deeper, he could hear those helpless sounds that his brother managed to make out. Thor murmured soothing chants between his bitten lips.

“Yes- I know, I know Shhh- it’ll be alright brother,

I’m here, I’m here- I love you, I love you- 

ILoveyousomuchLoki-…”

Q^Q

Because everyone knows what death means to gods.

Hel has no mercy. There’s no escape, no remains. They disappeared. They’ll soon become a blur of memory, then a shadow, and then nothing. People won’t remember. Even God does not, either. They’ll forget the one they love over thousands years of time.

No one will remember there was once a mischief god in Asgard, who smiles at Thor’s failed jokes, smirks whenever his little pranks worked, who frowned whenever Thor said something stupid, and pronounced the word “brother” to Thor beautifully with his thin lips.

Sun kept rising.

Dewdrop from the swing glasses around Loki’s motionless body started to evaporate into thin air.

So did the waterdrop on Thor’s face.

He don’t know when will time do her magic, but he wish not, wish not to forget these are the hands that ended his beloved’s life. Intimately.

In the coming decades, centuries, he welcomed all those horrible nightmares with open arms. He took all those praised as hero painfully when he remembered who brought him his fame.

He don’t know someday in the future, he’ll meet a little boy at the end of a crowded street somewhere in Paris, that he’ll say that word which hide deep in his memory out loud.

“Brother.”