I have been FALLING for THIRTY MINUTES

by AbsurdlyNerdy

During Thor:Ragnarok, Loki gripes to himself as he falls through Doctor Strange's portals into one dimension after another. I wrote this at 1 AM, and I was very sleep deprived, so it's quite short and random.

Whoever or whatever sent me here is going to get it.

For the last ten minutes I have been hurtling through dimension after dimension after bloody dimension, and exactly none of my little shortcuts through the universe are working. I swear on Odin Allfather's throne (and you know how seriously I take that), once I escape there will be bloodshed. No more of this cowardly, childish excuse for witchcraft. I'll show them what real magic is.

But for now I'm stuck.

And bored.

Do I really dress like a witch?

Hmph. Well, at least I wasn't disguised as Midgardian street scum. No class at all, my brother. If one is to be king, one must very well look the part. There's an element of style involved. Even one's choice in weapon reflects on you.

Take, for example, my daggers. Elegant weapons, and versatile. They can deal a swift death if I'm feeling merciful… or an excruciating one in other cases.

I haven't quite decided which one is reserved for my current captor.