Marvel Oneshots And Crack

⚠️the waves will pull us under

Loki angst. Loki has BPD and other things here. Loki is age regressing and also experiencing anxiety and suicide ideation. Loki is saved by Thor and doesn't fall off the bridge and is in his chambers. Asgard isn't exactly keeping him safe bc they aren't aware of how suicidal he is. TW FOR SELF HARM AND SUICIDE IDEATION

Loki POV

I lay on my bed, wrapped in only my childhood blankie, the rest of me bare. I just woke up from a dream, possibly a nightmare. It's a blur, but I know Thor was there. I was scared, but I had him. And now I've woken up alone. 

I see my notebook for writing poetry, piles and piles of manuscripts in my room, all signed with my name. I've spent each day meticulously crossing out my name each night since the Incident. This time, I grab a quill and cross out my own name on my notebook, doing so consequently inside where I signed my name on each page. The love I once held for myself and my name, is now hatred and confusion. 

I'm standing by the window, having no idea how I got there. It doesn't matter. I have no idea anymore. Nothing makes sense these days. 

The servants bring food up to me. I eat it, numbly, eating until my stomach aches. I rub my tummy laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, sometimes trying to read. When my eyes blur and I can't make sense of anything, I feel myself begin to slide, slipping until I'm suddenly a child. Then I fall asleep, or something upsets me, and I'm an adult again. 

One day, Fathe-I mean Odin-has knocked on my door. I open it, and allow him to sit on my desk chair. "My son-"

I snap, "I'm not your son."

He fires back, "You're not. You're a disgrace! You nearly destroyed Asgard, and Jotunheim! You sought to do worse than your brother! You ought to be in prison, but instead, because of your mother and brother, I take pity on you. I already regret my choice."

A switch flips in my head. I feel myself losing control. I know I'm acting out and once again being ridiculous, but I can't stop it. "THEN KILL ME!"

He looks frightened. "Loki...you are my son. I would not ever kill you, misguided and clearly unwell as you may be."

I scoff. "I'm not the one who is unwell, Father. It is you who just awoke from the Odinsleep."

"Your mind, my son. It does not fare well these days. I could bring you to see Eir."

I have my back to him, laughing now. "Why would she ever treat a monster? Doe she know what I am?"

"Yes, in fact. And she is sworn to secrecy."

I turn around in shock, and he continues in that infuriatingly calm way, "She figured it out from the beginning, when your anatomy was not that of an Aesir child."

I struggle to breathe. "My-my anatomy?"

He sighs, closing his eye. "So much we have not told you. Loki, you possess the ability to bear children because your anatomy is not male or female."

I stare at him, and then send a blast of energy over to the mirror in my bedroom, watching it shatter. "So...SO I'M A FREAK!"

"Loki..." He touches me, and I fling him away from me. He leaves my bedroom, a heartbroken look on his face. "My son...you are no freak."

My eyes are streaming so hard I can't see. "GET OUT!"

My door closes, and I sink onto the floor, sobbing. When my mind doesn't revert to a younger age and instead shows me sharp images of daggers, I know what I must do. 

I summon my sharpest dagger, the ones I only use for a very specific purpose. With a lock of my door, I sit at my desk, pushing my sleeve up. With my dominant hand, I make myself bleed, carving deep into my skin. 

There's a knock on my door after what feels like several hours. I'm reading a playwright I stole from Midgard two centuries ago, a rather vulgar but hilarious one. I'm laughing raucously, despite the injuries on myself. 

"Brother, it is dinnertime."

Ah, yes. Mother tries to have us eat breakfast and dinner together every day. 

I hurriedly cover up my arms with illusions. As we walk down there, Thor gently grabs my forearm. "Father is not mad at you. He wanted me to tell you that. Loki...are you in pain?"

I shake my head. "No. Of course not."

His eyes narrow. "There's blood on your clothes."

Gasping, I look down at myself. Sure enough, red stains are on my trousers. I swallow uncomfortably. "It is only red ink, brothe-"

Thor shakes his head, his voice shaking. "I know what you're doing, Loki."

My head swims, and just as I am preparing for him to lose his temper, he looks around and whispers, "I won't tell anyone."

I blink. "You...you aren't angry?"

Thor doesn't look me in the eyes, and I begin to have a concerning idea form in my head. "Thor....don't tell me you're reacting so calmly because...because you've..."

He slaps his hands on his thighs, a nervous habit he has. "Yes."

I drop my voice. "When? Where?"

Thor mumbles, "My stomach...my legs. And um...since my 800s."

I whisper, "Knives?"

Thor shakes his head. "Lightning."

Wincing, I shake that image out of my head. I'm paralyzed by fear. "Thor..."

He won't look at me. "I won't tell if you don't."

I nod. "Deal."

The two of us sit down by each other, me cleaning the blood off with magic prior, pulling my sleeves down. Father is giving me glances every now and then. I ignore him, shoving food into my mouth. When it is time for sweets, I gorge myself with the pies and fruits and lefse around me. My mood lifts, and when my stomach is aching, I finally feel satisfied.