Designing Tom Huddleston as Loki (armor version). The interweaving shapes motif of Thor’s custome is kept here to connect their world with its Norse origins and also alluded to the interconnectedness of Thor, Loki, and Odin.#loki #marvel #avengers #MCU #conceptart @twhiddleston
It’s fascinating to see how the costume evolved – like the helmet in the first pic is much prominent over the brow than the third and what was eventually created. It looks a lot more menacing but I agree it wouldn’t have suited Loki in Thor 1. And how the curve of the armour carries on in the first pic to be a sort of knee length tunic – I wonder what that would have been like during movement – I suspect it might have looked better stationary and been a bit awkward so it got dropped.
And in the last pic, his casual attire, it seems the shoulder pads are a little smaller than what they finally went with. Personally I think I prefer that. It always seems to me like they were trying to bulk Loki up with clothing and they were just a little bit too big for his frame.
That second pic. Er…? Thank the norns they didn’t go there!
We are our own worst enemies, anon. We can be so hard on ourselves, so critical and merciless, especially when it comes to something as inconsequential (and yet so important to us) as our outside appearances. I wish there was some way we could physically look into our bodies and see them for the amazing tools that they are. Complex networks of capillaries, tendons and ligaments holding our muscles together and keeping them attached to our bones. Limbs that transport us with barely a thought, appendages that allow us to touch our world and interact with it, to feel and taste and smell and interpret… it’s incredible. And we really have no idea of it—or perhaps we do, but we forget. Again and again. Sometimes we need to be reminded of it because we are so forgetful, and if we’re lucky, we’ve got a special person or people in our lives who will do that.
I think that Loki is canonically self-conscious in the MCU, perhaps to the point he has a serious inferiority complex. I can see him staring into the mirror and beginning The List. We all know it. The List of Things We Hate About Ourselves.
I hate my hair. It’s so thin and oily. My forehead is too wide. My nose is huge and crooked. My lips are thin. That scar is showing up again—I need to find a longer-lasting spell…
He starts from the top and goes all the way down, until he is feeling so low and miserable and worthless that he can’t even stand to look at himself anymore.
This only gets worse when it’s revealed that he’s a Frost Giant.
As if he weren’t ugly before, now he has to deal with being an actual, real monster.
Once he learns how to manipulate the illusion of his Aesir form (a tricky process that takes him many hours of practice), the first thing he does is strip naked and take a good long look in the mirror.
Oh, it’s so much worse than before. Worse because this is what’s real. These rheumy red eyes. The lines and creases on his face, his leathery skin—so greasy in Asgard’s warm, dry climate—with its corpselike blue hue. There isn’t an inch of him that is even faintly attractive. There never was. He’s an ugly misfit. Even the Frost Giants would consider him pathetic, so small and weak, possessing none of the qualities of a worthy jötunn.
Because I am worthless, he thinks. Not only am I ugly, but I’m a failure as well. I can’t do anything right. My plans always fall through. No one truly loves me. They love the illusion I’ve had cast over me all this time. After all, who in their right mind could love this? I am a horrible, ugly person with no friends and nothing to offer except parlor tricks and silly little—
“You’re beautiful.”
Loki jumps at the voice and turns, covering himself with his hands.
Thor has been standing in the doorway for the last five minutes, watching Loki study his reflection with his face twisted in disgust, wiping away his tears, muttering quiet, distressed utterances with every new flaw he found.
“I know you don’t think it,” says Thor, “but you are. You’re amazing, Loki.”
“I am not,” Loki utters, throwing on a robe but remaining in his jötunn form. He wants Thor to see this hideousness for himself. Maybe that will stop the lies he’s spewing. “I’m awful. I look like an ogre or some sort of demon.”
“But you’re neither ogre nor demon. You’re a prince. You’re a sorcerer. You’re my brother, and I love you.”
Loki glowers. “That makes one of us, then.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Thor walks forward and puts his hands on Loki’s shoulders, guiding him back to the mirror.
“You don’t have to look,” he says softly, “and I’m not going to make you look. But I want you to know that you are more than this body, Loki. The you in here”—he touches Loki’s temple—“and in here”—he touches the center of Loki’s chest, just above his beating heart—“is still the same. That is the you I will always love, no matter what your outside looks like.”
Loki scoffs bitterly, his head bowed. “Even if that outside is your enemy?”
“Your skin is not my enemy, Loki. Nor is it yours.”
“Isn’t it? Am I not a Frost Giant? Am I not a member of that race of monsters all Asgard despises, including you?”
Thor goes quiet, his expression reflecting his shame. “I have been forced to do a lot of thinking since Father told me of your true parentage. I have changed my mind about many things.” He looks at Loki’s reflection and gives him a small smile. “So can you. That is the beauty of it. We can change the way we think and see others, even ourselves.”
Loki finally raises his head and looks at himself in the mirror.
Standing beside Thor, his handsome and perfect brother, he thought he would look uglier than ever before. But he doesn’t. He looks… not attractive, but something about their skins beside one another, pink and blue, and their hair, gold and black—even their eyes, sky-blue and fire-red—looks nice somehow. Complementary. Diverse yet harmonious.
Or maybe it’s just the way Thor is looking at him, his heart and his hopes—and his love—showing clearly in his eyes. That is the most beautiful thing in this mirror. Not them. Certainly not Loki.
“I’m afraid it’s going to take a long time to do that,” Loki murmurs. “Much longer than it took to change yours.”
“That’s alright. I will help you. I am here for you, Loki. I will always be here for you.” Thor gives him a squeeze and leans forward to plant a kiss in his hair—his oily, stringy, smelly jötunn hair, as if it doesn’t bother him at all.
…maybe it doesn’t.
Loki reaches up and grasps Thor’s hand. A thin veil of frost spreads across his warm fingers, but he doesn’t recoil, doesn’t pull away. No, he smiles and moves even closer.
Tears sting Loki’s eyes.
Maybe someday he’ll love himself as much as Thor loves him. It seems unlikely. Impossible, even. How does one learn to un-see this much ugliness? Who could look at this face and think that it—or anything beneath it—could be beautiful?
“I bet you can conjure some impressive ice weapons in this form,” says Thor, turning himself and Loki away from the mirror. “Has your sorcery been affected at all?”
“You should. Perhaps they are even stronger now that your true form is no longer being suppressed.”
“I sincerely doubt that.”
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” says Thor cheerfully. “Come on, let’s go to the training yard. I’ve never been stabbed with an ice dagger before. It’s probably quite refreshing.”
Loki can’t quite keep his mouth straight; it curls up at the corners despite his best efforts. He rolls his eyes. “You’re an idiot, brother.”
“I’m your idiot brother, forever and ever. Never forget that.”
“I’m already trying as hard as I can.”
Thor grins and pats Loki’s back. “I’ll leave you to get dressed. Meet me in the yard in ten minutes. Oh, and Loki?”
“What.”
“Bring your best game.” Thor wags his eyebrows as he leaves the room. “I don’t want to walk away from this without a scratch.”
Loki smiles at last. He doesn’t even wonder what it looks like on his jötunn face. “You’ll be lucky to walk away from this at all, you pompous fool.” He finishes by putting on a scowl and sticking out his blue tongue as far as it will go. Not exactly mature, but somehow it feels appropriate in this moment.
Thor laughs heartily and points at him warningly. “We shall see about that, little brother!” he declared. “We shall see!”
You have three islands. Divide them into groups of one. The straight island, the gay island, and the lesbian island. The straight island is going to reproduce and keep going strong for millions of generations to come. The gay and lesbian islands will both wipe out in not even one century. This isn’t just about religion or morals, it’s just simple common sense. Being gay is unnatural, and not just because God said so, but because you yourself wouldn’t even be born without a REAL natural man and woman. And no, there is no such thing as a lesbian bone marrow “thing” to have children. That’s a biased fact that came from a lesbian scientist who has false opinions. If it’s not a real penis or vagina, then it’s fucking false and you’re just opinionated by dumb facts. I’m done here. Read over what I said and if you still think that being gay is normal and natural, then I hope you achieve some common sense one day. Bye
Where is this gay island located.. asking for a friend
I just have SO MANY questions. Why were we all separated onto different islands? Did the government sanction this? If so, why? Why didn’t we revolt against this tyrannical government? Where are these islands? How were they chosen? Are the continents of the world abandoned? What kind of resources are on each island? Are they the same or different? Does each island have a right to form its own government or does the government that segregated us still rule? If so, what island do they rule from and how do they communicate with the other two islands? If they can communicate with the other two islands, can all three islands communicate with each other? If the straight people keep reproducing, won’t their island become overpopulated and their resources depleted? Islands only have so much space right? Do straight people stop having gay kids? Isn’t it a fact that, to date, straight people are the largest manufacturers of gay kids? If a gay kid is born on straight island, do they get sent to their appropriate island? Wouldn’t that aid in the re-population of gay and lesbian island? What about people who are attracted to more than one gender? Are they just lost at sea, floating aimlessly? Is the ocean full of listless pansexuals, floating nowhere? Or are they trapped in some sort of purgatory because they don’t fit on any one island? Are there trees on lesbian island? Is it conceivable that if there were, a large group of lesbians could build a boat? Have you ever seen lesbians around timber? If they built a boat, could they travel to gay island? How far apart are the islands? If they could travel to gay island, would they be able to collect semen, return to lesbian island, and repopulate the island? Would they be able to send some of those children to gay island? Do trans people exist in this world? If so, wouldn’t they be able to aid in repopulation? If the lesbians decided to declare war on the heterosexuals, would they be able to reach their island? On the way to heterosexual island, could the lesbians pick up the gays and scoop the floating bisexuals from the sea? If so, would they all be able to go and attack heterosexual island together, wiping out its people’s, stealing its children and taking all its resources? Does this fantasy world get you off at night? Please write back soon!
Speaking up from the pansexual archipelago: I too have these questions
Checking in from bisexual bay: The boats are nearly complete and are equipped with a special invisibility function. We attack at dawn
Fuck the questions, lemme on that boat, I’m coming with you
*random ace just floating away into the sky like a balloon*
I am so here for an asexual sky nation. We live in floating cities and master the wind currents. Newly minted ace youths are sent up to us in baskets suspended under hot air balloons. We breed giant birds to bear us through the skies, or else build ourselves wings and gliders to fly in their midst. The only land we know are the tallest mountain peaks and the world is a bright blue gem spreading out beneath us.
(And we will of course be providing air support for the impending attack on Straight Island)
OP’s nasty-ass post got turned into a goddamn sci-fi dystopian adventure and I’m so here for it.
oh my god Bisexual Buccaneers from Both-Ways Bay is both a porn tile and my new life goals
i’m an asexual homoromantic does this make me our young heroine torn between worlds
You spend part of your time on lesbian island, learning the stories, and traditions, and part of your time in the vast floating asexual cities, training with your eagle so that you can one day become one of the chosen few: the messengers, who carry letters and passengers between islands, jumping the heterosexual blockades. When you enter this select group, you’re assigned the job of collecting reports from spies pretending to heterosexual on straight island, flying in at the dead of night, risking discovery to collect vital intelligence. You fall in love with a pansexual girl who’s chosen to hide her orientation so she can aid the Resistance. At the climax of the novel, you swoop down from above on your giant eagle to rescue your lady love from a frenzied mob. As straight island burns in the background, you share a chaste kiss and cuddle while discussing the possibility of a mountain-top pansexual outpost.
Being able to sleep in almost any situation or position
Irresistible urge to chase squirrels and rabbits
Hating the vacuum cleaner
Wanting to do everything with friends
Loudly and repeatedly announcing to housemates that someone is at the door
Long, shouted conversations to other werewolves across the neighborhood (bonus points at 2am)
Taking advantage of any and all free food
Werewolf-vampire solidarity
Fighting any animal that trespasses into the backyard
Boundless energy
Too much energy
Eating out of the trash if it smells tasty
Being bad at sports because you don’t want to let anyone else take the ball from you. Then destroying the ball in front of everyone because you want to make a point
Trying to fight things 10x your size like a fucking idiot
Being unable to hold a grudge for more than a few hours
Trying to make people feel bad for you over mundane things that aren’t actually that bad. And somehow succeeding.
Snoring
Needing to try a bit of your friends’ food, even if you’ve tried it 5645674 times before and have never once liked it
Getting way too friendly with random strangers
Being in a love-hate relationship with water
Digging. For no reason.
Thinking you’re a badass despite being a hyperactive ball of emotions and hedonism
Loud sobbing while pressing yourself up against the sliding glass door at your friends who locked you out because they were tired of your bullshit and wanted some goddamn peace and quiet
I didn’t know Mr. T pityed fool’s that weren’t woke, but that’s awesome. #respect
“I think about my father being called ‘boy’, my uncle being called ‘boy’, my brother, coming back from Vietnam and being called ‘boy’. So I questioned myself:“What does a black man have to do before he’s given the respect as a man?” So when I was 18 years old, when I was old enough to fight and die for my country, old enough to drink, old enough to vote, I said I was old enough to be called a man. I self-ordained myself Mr. T so the first word out of everybody’s mouth is “Mr.” That’s a sign of respect that my father didn’t get, that my brother didn’t get, that my mother didn’t get.“
Tom Hiddleston in ‘The Avengers’, (2012). Dir. Joss Whedon.
Something I really love about this shot is the way Loki looks at the scepter for a second right before attacking with it. I can kind of see his thought process throughout the gifs – he arrives, just having come from whatever horrors he’s experienced with Thanos, disoriented, probably very scared on the inside. He examines this extremely powerful weapon he probably has no experience using. He gathers what little strength he has, collects his thoughts, can I really do this, and then he looks up, menacing,
there’s no turning back now, attacks in sudden full-villain mode, and proceeds to continue this way for the duration of the story – mad and murderous and unshakably determined, with terror and agony just barely contained under the surface. It’s one of those little things that shows how lost he is in this film underneath the “big bad villain” exterior.
Loki is the Philosopher King 