A/N: I just wanted to read an always-a-girl!Loki fic. There are every few and far between, most of the ones are just Loki shape-shifting into a woman. Whilst I got nothing against Transgender and Gays, I'm getting tired of not finding any female!Loki stories. Then, it kind of got deeper when I thought about a story of a girl falling into the Marvel Cinematic Universe... and it got more deeper when I thought about the reincarnation deal. So, this is what I came up with. Sorry if this offends or throws off your groove about how you view me, but this is the road I want to take. You all know where the back button is.
Also, I would like to warn you ahead that there is a TRIGGER in here regarding to the shooting sprees across campus. Please, don't try to be brave, simply wait for the next chapter and all will be informed.
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THE AVENGERS
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prologue
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"I swear, I'm gonna die with so many feels!"
Rather than joining, I continued to ignore Stacie as she ranted to everyone else about her emotional roller-coaster experience. Everyone else who followed the topic gave murmurs of agreement. I honestly wanted to roll my eyes, but that would mean acknowledging her words and getting pulled into them. Stacie was a great friend and all, but I really didn't want to have hours long discussions about fictional characters and their future franchises. God knows I had exposed too much of her favorite movies to scrape it out of my head when I had finals coming up.
"Hey!" her voice persists as her head appears in my vision by sliding it over my tablet. "I'm gonna die here!"
"Stacie, c'mon," I groaned as I pushed her sandy-blond head away from my notes. "I got tons of things to do."
"Oh, sorry." she quickly moves off as she seats herself on top of the table bench. "You nervous for the finals?"
"Who isn't?" I said as I glared at an open text book. "These things have been invented to put more stress on already stressed-out students to fail the majority that break down while weeding out the strong ones."
"It's true," some guy, Matt (Damon? Collin? I don't know), agreed as he sipped his soda can. "That's the government pulling shit on our generation while they sit on their asses with their thrones made of billions of dollars!"
"Trillions!" another guy, whose face I don't know, added.
"Yeah! What he said!" Becka nodded vigorously before giggling like the adorable little idiot she was.
"No!" Stacie shot up to her feet, looming over me and everyone else as she spread her arms like she was Christ on a pole. "That's HYDRA!"
"Fucking HYDRA!"
Ugh, just when I thought we were finally moving past Stacie's favorite number one topic she would majority of the time start with, we were back to square one. I shook my head, a small smile betraying my annoyed features before composing myself to get back to my work. I kept on working while Stacie and our small group of friends (most of which were hers) talked about the upcoming Marvel films, the campus around us mostly peaceful with people lounging about between class periods. The weather today was surprisingly warm despite it having been cold the past few weeks with the coming of winter, and I couldn't help but look up at the clear blue sky with no clouds in sight to block the warm rays of the sun that drooped low in the early evening.
"Dude!" I jumped when I felt something thump softly against my sweater. I looked back to find everyone staring at me.
"What?" I snapped, getting a little snappy because I was always getting interrupted.
"Whose your favorite character?" Tommy asked as he munched on a piece of sliced pizza. Damn, looking at him eat that made me suddenly hungry for pizza.
Back to the question, I simply rolled my eyes and turned back to my tablet, text book and notes. "I dunno!"
There was a spontaneous explosion of protests. Again, I rolled my eyes when I hear Tommy, Becka, and someone else plead at the want to know who my favorite Marvel character was.
"The Punisher." I answered, and surprisingly, it was Stacie who protested this time around.
"No, dummy!" she whacked my arm, and earning a withering glare from me, as she elaborated. "Which character from the MCU, they meant!"
"Oh," I mumbled as I stared at the bench.
There was a pause, and I almost wanted to roll my eyes a third time when I noticed everyone was shutting up for my benefit. Wouldn't this been nice if had been more courteous to me by being more quiet with their ridiculous debates of which actor was the best Hulk while I had been studying? Seeing their expectant looks, I thought back to the movie marathons Stacie and her cousin had me go through with the whole Phase 1/Phase 2 films, and thinking about all the characters presented so far... only one person stood out like a sore thumb from the rest of the ensemble cast of incredibly talented people...
My mouth opened, but I didn't get a chance to say anything.
A loud crack disrupted the peaceful silence, jerking everyone. At first, there was confusion, and then, it turned to realization when another startling crack filled the air again. Soon, terrified shouts followed.
With horror, we looked across the open campus field to see the several people that loitered on the green grass running madly for cover. And at the very back, there was a student sprawled on the grass like he had simply dropped there to sleep, but he wasn't moving in a hurry like the rest of the students.
My eyes trailed over the body to find someone walking past him. He was dressed in dark, heavy-looking clothes not made for weather, and there was something dark and shiny in his gloved hands...
Stacie was suddenly yanking at the collar of my shirt, getting to me to move and run with her and the rest of everyone who was fleeing. The screams, the gunshots, and the rush made everything seem slow and lethargic. I could barely move after Stacie with the shock of this all, watching the back of the group as they ran for their lives from the shooter.
I could barely hear Stacie screaming in my ears with my heart pounding so loudly in my chest.
CRACK
My heart was pounding... and it was hurting?
'Oh,' I thought as my body began to feel heavy, the pain spreading as my feet felt slippery. My vision dancing as they tried to focus on Stacie as she continued to pull, then tug, and eventually drag my body along with her. 'Oh.'
Everything became a bit darker, and Stacie was still holding me when she finally couldn't pull me any farther. I could feel her tugging my arms, my legs dragging along the grass before feeling hard, cold concrete. My vision swimming vision cleared enough so that Stacie was looking at me, her eyes red with tears and face twisted with dread. I stared up at her, my eyes barely holding back the darkness that was ready to pull me back. With a heavy, wet hand, I reached for her and she met my wet (very red) hand with a hard grasp of her own.
Huh. Her hand felt a lot hotter than my own.
And wasn't today suppose to be warm? Why was it suddenly cold?
I would never again get the chance to ask Stacie these questions.
There was something.
It felt new, yet at the same time, it felt... old. Like, it was meeting an old grandparent for the first time, or something like that. I don't even know anymore.
Anymore. Anymore of what? It sounded like something ended. Was I watching a movie?
No... I... don't know...
There was something. And I wasn't alone.
Why was I even alone to begin with? Hadn't I just been with someone earlier? What happened? Did they leave me?
... did I leave them?
There was something... and it/she/he was saying something.
What?
I can't hear anything! What is wrong with this... wait. What is this place?
How did I, no, how do I know this is a place? What is a place?
There is something.
And it feels—
Cold.
Biting, blizzarding, numbing-my-toes-I-think-a-pinky-fell-off cold!
I couldn't even hear my own voice with the winds howling and drowning out whatever sound! Even twitching a finger took an immeasurable amount of herculean effort.
'Oh, God,' I cried, my voice muted by the unforgiving cold. 'I'm going to die!'
And like someone turning off a loud faucet with unending water, the howls quickly died down until there was nothing but the sound of my weak, pitiful wailing cries—wait, wailing cries? As much as I wanted to stop, the cries went on, echoing from the large space that surrounded me. I couldn't will myself to stop crying, my instincts too terrified and overriding the logic that grew faint in the head like background noise.
Then the warmth came. Like a blanket that had been draped over a heater for hours finally put to use for some poor soul that had been standing out in freezing temperatures for too long. My crying began to subside as the warmth spread feeling against the numbness that overtook my limp form. It felt painful, but slowly, the warmth washed away the stiffness in my body. The hiccuping went on, my nose stuffed like I was probably high with the cold (and I most likely was at this point), and the hot blanket wrapped around me slowly lifted off my face. I wanted to cry at that, but something caught my eyes.
And it was staring right back at me. Well, one eye was staring back.
And old man with a great, bushy beard and one eye (the other, to my horror, was bloody and hollow) was looming over me. He was huge that I wanted to take a step back, but something was holding me in place, and even with my legs and arms beginning to regain feeling, I couldn't do much but lie there and stare. A great, calloused hand hovered over the crown of my head before slowly moving south; over my forehead, my eyes, my mouth, my neck, and eventually, to my feet.
I felt tingles over my body when this happened, watching with wariness as the strange, old man did these odd actions.
Staring at him a little more, something about him brought about a wave of familiarity: like a sense of nostalgia. I opened my mouth to question him, to demand answers of why the hell I was outside in some cold, dark place when I should have been in the hospital after I had been shot by some gun-trotting asshole. Better yet, I wanted to know if Stacie and the others were okay.
I opened my mouth—and gurgled.
My face scrunched up as the old, giant let out a small huff of laughter. I tried again, but the result was the same.
'What is wrong with me?! Did that shooter mess me up bad enough I can't even talk?!'
It was a scary thought. A bullet was deadly, but a life with a bullet hitting your spine and rendering you paralyzed was a much worse fate.
Before I could so much as succumb into a panic, another figure appeared in my live of vision, and like the old man, he too was a tall, broad man. I blinked up at him, my brows furrowing further as I took in his appearance.
Why was he dressed like some shiny viking?
When the newcomer spoke... it was in a language I never heard of. It sounded like gibberish, however, at the same time, it sounded sophisticated and complex like an intense math equation formulate turned to words. I didn't know how to explain it properly, but the words were strange, dumb, hard, and... old. Dammit, I wanted answers, I wanted to see Stacie and everyone, I wanted to get up and run away!
Finally, the old man returned his gaze back to me, looking at me with silent contemplation then nodding to himself as if he made his final decision to something. Then, to me, he said,
"Loki."
'... what?' I stared at him.
That name. I was going to say that name to Stacie and the others. If there was one character I liked, it would have to be Loki: adopted brother of Thor, adopted son of Frigg and—
Oh
I was staring straight into Anthony Hopkins' face.
With logic thrown out the window, I allowed instincts to take over and wailed like a banshee.
