F̒̊̋a̅̑̌̂l̂ͮ̃͐̚lͧ̋̇
ͪ͌ͣnͪ̌̄͛̾õͪ͋ͨ
̀͗̾̊̊ ͮ̆ ̆ ͑̈ͤ͐ͭ̅̃ ̏́͆͂ ̄̾̈ ̇̋ͥ͐̆̌̓Fͯ̿à͑l͂͌l̈́̓
͂ͮͮ̏ ̄̅̃͐ͪ̓̏ ͪͩ͒ͫ͌ ̆ͫͦ́̋F̔ͫ̉a̎̈́l̐͗͋ͮlͯ͑̂̋
̌ͧ̐̿̆͂ ̐͂̃̌ ͣͨͧ̐ͨ͛̆ ͭ̑́ͬ͂ͧͮ ̓ͨ͊ ̑̔̀ͪ ̀̿ ̍̄͗̎̑̃ͪ ̿ͨ̎͆̀ ̋͛̉͑ͬ̋ͨ ̓̏ͦ̎F͊a͆l̂͂l̽ͬͯͩ
́͒̒nͯ̃ͤ̈ͣ̂̒o͌̎ͯ
ńͣ̇o͑̋ͥ̓̅nͧ̇ŏͣ̚noͨ͊͑̊ͥno͂̉ͨ̓

͂͋̀̾̃̓hͩeͮͬ̒̋ͫl̋ͫͮp̽ͣ̅ ̎ͤ̐ͮͧ̈́ͧm̋̍̌̉̐eͨ͛̽̓̑ ̆̌ͦ̏p̓ͪͩl͗e̔͊a͌̾̏ͪͥsͧͩ̃͊͊̂eͯͨ̐ͪ͊̓

thor please
̋̉ͯͫ͆̉̂ ̏̎̎̆̉ͬ́ ̎̆ͩ̀ͥ̎ ͂͗ͭͮͯͣ̐ ͋̿ͧ͗ ͫ͌ͨ̉̎̃̃ ̋͊ͭ̿̋̌
̈̇̽̑̏ͦ̅F͑̾ͧ̇ͣ̿̑a̐̋̌̂̈l̈̽ͩͫ͐ͮͨl̄
ͧ̿̌͛ͩ̆
̆̄̄̄͆ͪ̾N͐̿̂̎͂on͆onoͪ̌ͮ͛ͩ̋͊nͣo ̂ͧ̐͊̓

nͬ̈́o̎̀͑̾̑̚ pͦͯ̈́l̓̋̂̚eͪa̔̀s̉̽͂ͭeͩͮͨ̋ͩ̉̌
ͫ̔͆͗̒
̂͒͗Nͯͣ̊O

ͯ͆ͦ̌ͮ͒̽ ͧ̃͊ ͛ͭFͥͪͣ̂̈a̎̑͑ͨ͛͒l̇ͪl͐ͥ͗ͬͯ
͋
̄ͥ͋cͫ̓͋͑ȁͯ̃ͭn̽'̆̋̃ͦ̒̾t̏̋̀̽̾ ͋ͪ̒͑̾̑
̌ͧ̎s̒tỏ͛̒ͭ͑p͑ ̏̐̉
͗̂fͤ͒ͯa̎ͭl̂̀ͤͭ̍̄liͧͫͥ͆̃n̓ͮͣ̾̍g̽ͩ̃ͦ͊̊!ͩ̈́

From all sides there was nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing as far as he could see, which was approximately nothing except the strange illumination of his own pale skin. No sensation of air curled around his quivering form. Nothing could be heard except his shallow breathing and the occasional desperate scream that ripped from his throat, and the loud pulsations of his heart in his head.

He endlessly plunged, vocals rubbed raw from the sheer terror that refused to fade, even daysmonthsyears after he'd started falling. Hallucinations haunted his mind in flashes of goldgreenredwhite, scenes of the past and of everything he'd ever lost.

Thor was there, laughing, laughing laughing at him with all of Asgard and screaming his name- "Loki! NO!" - Fath- Odin, with his one eye filled with disappointment and shame- "No, Loki." - and he was reminded of over and over and over again that he was never good enough, never would be able to make Fa- Odin proud, never get the people to look at him as something other than a coward, liar, trickster.

Mother was occasionally there, arms winding their way around his trembling shoulders, comforting whispers laden in his ears until they were drowned out by the rest of the oppressive voices crowding his thoughts. Always in the shadows never loved never never never NEVER! Should never have lived, and now can't even die properly- a failure, failure FAILURE FAILURE- they all chanted, drilling into every corner of his quaking, vulnerable mind.

"I'll hunt down the monsters down and slay them all!" rang through his head, and all he could think was that Thor would see only the Frost Giants he'd pledged to destroy.

As he clutched himself tightly in the dark, the prince's hands were no longer the white of an Aesir. They showed only the pale blue of a Jotun monster, frost sparkling at the tips of the fingers. "Unfeeling, savage beasts."

Monster, monster MONSTER! the voices whispered incessantly. You were always a monster hidden in plain sight, a Jotun pretender.

A hysterical sob ripped from his chest, full of despair and self loathing as Loki plunged down down down into the abyss between realms, leaving a trail of tears in his wake.

Clara Wessling last remembered getting all dolled up in her favorite nightie, finally going to bed after staying up to finish another stupid paper. College was supposed to be worth it in the end, but the stubborn, impatient teenager in her begged to differ. Why couldn't she just get her degree already and move on?

At any rate, she'd just fallen asleep, or she thought she did, when her umber eyes shot wide open in a groggy confusion. Her body was plunging downwards somehow, cloud patterned nightie rippling above her with her brunette locks. Still somewhat sleepy, the woman dared to look downwards.

And there was absolutely nothing below her.

Clara's mind shrieked to a stop and panic tore through the veil leftover from her rest, screams ripping from her throat. "This has to be a dream!" she screeched, limbs flailing uselessly in the darkness.

This couldn't be real. It couldn't it couldn't it couldn't. This was just some product of her tired, terrified mind, after a stressful night of work and stuff. Clara Wessling was dreaming. She had to be dreaming.

Nightmares were just that, bad dreams, right? The woman was really at home in her crappy apartment, asleep in her bed and probably twisting out of her sheets. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, after all.

This was a strangely lucid dream though. She'd never had one of those before.

And pain made you wake up from dreams, right? So, just had to hurt herself, and she'd be awake, out of this place.

Clara bit her cheek deeply, but didn't expect the blossom of fire that grew from it, flooding her mouth with blood. She spat it out quickly, and the glittering red droplets quickly shot away into the abyss around her.

Oh. Oh stars. This was actually real, wasn't it?

Her nightgown and tangled hair rippled in some unfeelable wind that pushed past her and on upwards into the ebony sky, the fall seemingly endless. Her dad would've loved this, with the skydiving potential present in this place, devoid of anything but her.

She was alone. Completely alone. Without even a thing to break up the monotony of the suffocating darkness.

A thrill of fear rang through her shocked mind as she recalled some facts from her psychology class regarding complete and total isolation.

Deterioration of mental abilities. Hallucinations. Inevitable insanity.

She would probably die here, driven to the brink of her mind without her family, friends, no one to talk to. And to make things worse, the deprivation of any stimuli besides the sensation of her thundering heart, the pull of gravity tugging her downwards, and the feeling of salty tears dripping behind her.

Oh. Her hand came back wet. She was crying. Not that surprising, with the fact that Clara had just lost everything she'd ever had.

The woman fell forever and ever, panic numbing into a dull acceptance for the inevitable. She lost track of time, but didn't seem to be able to fall asleep either. One more thing that was gone.

Nothing seemed real, and she'd begun to see flashes of light at the edges of her vision. There were the hallucinations, right on schedule. And a faint noise, sort of like a distant shriek.

It came more into focus, transforming from a dull, far off drone into a scream that was filled with despair and anguish, a heart wrenching noise of primal emotion. Her soul twisted painfully at the sound, but she reminded herself that it was still probably not real. Her heart was hardened again until the noise continued to grow louder over the seconds(?).

Was...was someone else actually here? In this void that devoured you, soul and body, until there was nothing left but an empty husk? That would explain the screaming.

A faint hope sprouted in her breast, and Clara tried to look around for the source, if there was one. She perked her ears and tried to pinpoint it more accurately.

The sounds of human suffering drew closer, her heart throbbing with every cry of fear and pain. A wet thing splattered her cheek, jolting her at the sudden sensation, and almost apprehensively, she looked downwards.

A person came into view, somehow visible despite the distinct lack of light. Tear drops spilled upwards from the prone figure, which explained the thing just a few seconds- was it seconds?- before.

The figure, however, sent a jolt through her entire system like lightning, worldview bursting apart like an overcharged bulb. He was familiar, with long ebony tresses, green and gold leather armor, and skin as pale as the snows he'd originated from.

This was Loki, Prince of Asgard, Prince of Jotunheim, fictional character of the MCU, and they were both

F

A

L

L

I

N

G

Through the bottomless pit where the Bifrost once was.

The terrified confusion was swept away by another keen of fear and helplessness that shook Clara to her core. Impulsively, she narrowed her body into an arrow, diving experience guiding her moves. Somehow, it worked, and the human was getting closer, closer-! Until her hand grasped the tail of his fluttering cloak, and tugged herself up to get a better grip on him.

The woman wrapped her arms around the Asgardian trickster, locking them in place around his waist so she wouldn't lose him. Verdant green eyes flashed open in terror and Loki began thrashing with a primal panic, his cries picking up as he tried to wriggle away from the sudden influx of sensation. Her own skin tingled at the almost foreign feeling of other objects, goosebumps raising on the skin.

Clara simply held tighter, and a dam seemed to break, releasing a flood of tears. "Loki! Someone's here! I'm here! You're not alone anymore!" she yelled desperately above the cacophony he was making.

I'm not alone anymore! she silently added, a fresh wave of tears sullying his chest piece.

She continued in that vein for an indeterminate amount of time, words of comfort given all the while for both her sake and his. The human ignored every panicked scream that hit her in his frenzy, only concerned with keeping him in her arms. He seemed to finally give in, slumping in her grasp.

How long had he been falling, alone, in this empty void? How on earth did Loki even originally survive it, with little to no sensory input, no one to talk to but the inevitable hallucinations that flooded his mind?

She certainly couldn't have. Clara suppressed her own questions of how long she'd been here, either.

It would drive a lesser man insane from sheer loneliness, and in Avengers he'd seemed at least halfway there already.

She was snapped out of her wonderings at the sound of his hoarse voice, raw after screaming so much. "W-who…?" Loki whispered, seemingly confused. "Not...hallucination…"

Her heart broke a little more at the desperate, hopeful undertone the question had, and too close to her own feelings not to hit home. The woman looked up at him, eyes teary, and rubbed his back reassuringly, making him relax slightly. "I'm Clara Wessling. Midgardian. No idea how I ended up here, but you sounded like you needed help." She gave a shaky grin.

Those green eyes widened, vulnerable and shocked for a second before a hardened mask was slammed over them. "I need no help from mortals such as yourself."

Clara blinked, then things got blurry and her throat grew a lump. Would he reject her and leave her stranded in the void, all over again, alone- "Please let me. I-I won't let you convince me otherwise!" she choked out in a somewhat brave tone.

"Forgive me if I don't want to try to convince a Midgardian of anything," he drawled, not answering her question. "Your ilk are a very stubborn lot."

Even as he spoke casually, Loki's shoulders were tense and weary still, body language stiff. He seemed unaware of the misting at the edges of his eyes, pupils darting and dilated like a cornered animal.

A sudden surge of protectiveness shot through her, and she shoved her conflicting feelings to the side for now. She pulled him into a proper hug, nestling his head into the crook of her neck and rubbing circles into his back.

Clara only hoped that Loki didn't get triggered and punch her for this, but she had to do something. Especially since she hadn't had the chance to do much of anything recently.

"It's okay to cry, y'know," the woman murmured in his ear.

His tense muscles pulled taut in a way that suggested Loki was shocked at the sudden touch, his hands visibly twitching and seemingly at war with a pair of impulses. A tremble made its way through his body beneath her pale arms, transforming into a sob choked with pure emotion. He finally gave in and burrowed his face into her neck, releasing a louder noise of distress, curling his own limbs around Clara like she might disappear at any moment, leaving him alone.

Here was a man who'd lost everything. The only home he'd ever had, the family that turned out he wasn't truly part of, the very identity he'd made for himself- all lost in one, blinding whirl of rage, lies, and sheer desperation to make his family proud.

And who else comforted him but a woman who'd lost just the same, and experienced the same terrible, isolating void around them. She was torn from her home universe, sent adrift among one that hadn't even been real a scant few hours(?) before. She was ripped from her loving family- crazy daredevil dad, emotionally prone mother, and gaggle of siblings that followed her around like lost little ducklings. She probably didn't even exist here.

To be honest, Clara probably had it a little better than Loki. She hadn't found out her entire identity was a lie, after all. Finding out that her worldview was a sham kind of paled in comparison to that.

Even so, her own eyes moistened for what had to be the fiftieth time, breath hitching and shuddering at the thought of her family, and the relief of having someone, anyone around.

Edited 4/28

Took some constructive criticism from AkiraRedtiger to heart, and hopefully it flows a bit better now and feels more natural.Thanks for all the reviews, favorites and follows guys! Don't be afraid to give me any more constructive criticism. I write this for fun, but also to get better at writing in general. See ya! -Korva