BLURB↴

A deaf girl who takes sign language to a new level and drama queen/god

SILENCE IS KEY↴

There is only one thing in the world I hate more than a Monday; A Monday where my workplace blows up (Okay, so I'm not really complaining there) and some asshole Asgardian steals my tea. I'm not British, but if you fuck with my tea, then you've fucked up bad.

Ehem, I mean, Sir, please remove your cheap glowing staff from my tea before I pull your greasy hair out.

You might think I'm being a little cocky, but hey! I'm telling this in retrospect, and my portrayal of Loki (aforementioned asshole Asgardian), may be the tiniest bit biased. I promise you, however, the dialogue is perfectly accurate.

"Watch is asshole!" I shout. The man removed the butt of his staff from the crushed styrofoam cup.

I lied, just there, actually. See, I'm deaf, and while I can lip read (To an extent) I can't talk. So really I just made what I hope was an annoyed and not scared sounding grunt and threw a rock at the back of my attackers greasy hair.

He stops and turns oh-so-dramatically, an eyebrow raised. "Do you know who I am?" He says. I can only imagine the outrage in his tone.

Of course, at the time I thought his cheap glowing staff really was just that and maybe comic-con was early (I don't keep track). In my defence, I was too busy trying to fast walk away from certain death without spilling my tea to realise that a comic obsessed guy in fancy dress wasn't likely to be running towards the robots-on-hover-boards-of-death.

So I shake my head, eyes wide.

"I am the dog-" Dog? God. "that has brought havoc upon you. You will bow to me before this day is out. I am here to fulfil you mortals' primitive expectations and need for a king."

I shake my head at him again, partly because I wasn't sure if I'd read right, and partly because I didn't want to advertise all of my skills. Deaf people aren't useless as the phrase 'deaf as a doorknob' implies, but people who function properly don't know that. It's great, I'm always exceeding expectations.

On that note, I happen to be able to summon things - another skill I don't want him to know. He stops his monologue, puzzled.

"What?" He asks impatiently.

I tap my ear and look at him expectantly. He doesn't get the message and goes to speak again. I have a secret weapon of course. A shirt reading 'The Walking Deaf'. His face when I started stripping down to my t-shirt was really quite funny, but his expression changes when he reads it.

"Oh for Odins sake, I'm going to go find a population I can monologue to."

I realise what deep shit I'm in when he raises his glowing stick. It really does look like something from a two dollar shop, but the fact that it grows in his hand is a slight giveaway that it's not and his expression tells me he's not going to pull a rabbit out a hat for me.

So, I do the logical thing; I summon a cloud of smoke from somewhere else around the burning city and I run. It really is a good tactic. If you don't have smoke, try starting a dance fight. I've heard they're pretty effective.

THREE MONTHS LATER↴

Of course, after the whole almost-apocalypse, life was pretty uneventful. I got myself another cup of tea, a new job, and continued to hate Mondays. With a passion.

It was a Monday when the Avengers cornered me. I'm not sure why. The only time I've ever used my powers in public was when I stole that Barbie Doll from Toy world, and even then they gave up questioning me because I was deaf. And I was eight. What eight year old decides to steal things? Of course I was innocent.

I really do not want to be part of the Avengers. I'm pretty sure I'd need strong morals and stuff, so I really really was not thrilled to see Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. Well, I was a tiny bit thrilled to see Bruce because holy heck is he good looking when he's not green, but that's not my point.

You know when someone's following you, so you turn down a side street, and then another side street, and then duck into an underwear shop? And then you hide behind a shelf of bra's and the employee's look at you weirdly, and they don't kick you out even though you're clearly hiding, and you're just like what!? And then you realise it's because two famous-people-who-are-definitely-stalking-me walked in?

Yes, that was very relatable.

I manage to escape the shop and ended up in a secluded alleyway. It's always a secluded alley way. Imagine being an estate agent trying to sell one. You'd probably end up living in a cardboard box there.

"Woah, we're just trying to talk." Stark says, holding his hands up. Banner is nodding.

I'm glaring and shaking my head. Why didn't I wear my 'Walking Deaf' shirt today?

The thing with me is that I'm really, truly not cut out to be a hero. Or under any kind of stress. So in my defence, summoning cutlery and sending it careening towards them really did seem like the logical course of action. Please ignore the fact that it advertised my powers, and that they had no effect, except to piss them off.

I'm getting pretty desperate after diminishing some poor persons supply of cutlery. I need a weapon. Something that will definitely scare them off. I don't mean to, but my thoughts went to Loki, and suddenly I'm moving. Well shit, maybe I should practice summoning people before summoning a 'god'.

I feel a hand grab mine, and in a swirl of crushing, rushing darkness, my feet leave the ground, only to slam down a moment later. I groan and use the hand to get my balance. Do things I summon always go through that? Maybe I should go apologise to that Barbie I stole.

Realising I'm still clutching that strange hand I turn, slowly. It's Loki, he's been saying something for the past few minutes, but now he wrenches his hand from my grip and starts signing. Signing? Wow, he must be a fast learner.

ON ASGARD THREE MONTHS PREVIOUSLY↴

"Loki. Loki?" It's Thor, and he's checking in on me again. Godammit, I thought I was in solitary confinement.

"What?" I ask impatiently.

"What are you doing?" He asks, catching sight of the book on my lap.

"Learning ASL." I mutter sullenly.

"What?"

"It's an earth thing." I say, snapping the book shut.

"For Odins sake, if you're going to invade again, I swear..."

I meet his glare firmly, but then decide it isn't worth the trouble.

"I'm learning sign language," I admitt.

THE PRESENT↴

"Why are we here?" Loki signs.

"Well, it's a long story - no, an embarrassing one, and I have a better question, where are we?"

"My home planet." He signs.

"Well shit. If this is Asgard I'm going home."

"It's Jotunheim." His expression as he signs the word is stormy. He doesn't like this place. Bad things have happened to him here.

Its not hard to understand why he isn't thrilled. The planet is barren, and freaking freezing. I really should have worn a jacket, but I suppose people would have given me weird looks - what with it being summer and all. Then again, Loki had no qualms about wearing a cape and a horned helmet, so I really have no excuse for being shy.

I stare at him blankly, and he sighs. Something in his expression looks... Apprehensive.

"I'm a Frost Giant... As you mortals call them."

"Uh, cool." I sign, and then snicker at my pun.

Loki rolls his eyes and mutters 'mortals'. From his expression, he uses it as a curse. He begins pacing away from me. When he see's - or perhaps hears my footsteps - he turns, and looks surprised when he realises I'm still following him.

"You know you're in danger." He signs, "I could kill you."

"I mean, yeah, but I'm already following you. Plus, why would you bother learning sign language if you were just going to kill me?"

His expression turns unpleasant, "you've just learned I'm a frost giant."

"So? I mean, I still think you're an idiot."

"You thought I was a God."

I shrug, "you think you're a God. I never - never - called you one. That would imply you're superior."

Loki looks incredulous, and a little impatient. "Why did you bring me here?" He asks finally. I can tell he hates to be the one to ask questions.

"I didn't intend to! You were sort of a last resort."

"You thought of me?" He asks. I wonder if he's flattered.

"I was wondering if you were death." I deadpan.

"No. That's my sister." He signs - far too seriously. "If you didn't bring me here intentionally, why are we here?"

"Beats me. You must have been thinking of it when you were holding my hand."

"This is why I don't engage in physical contact."

I would have grabbed his hand then and there, because pissing off your only hope of survival is always a good idea, but I needed both hands to reply.

"Awe, you should find a lady frost giant and settle down."

"Disgusting." He signs.

"You don't like your own kind, yeah? You resent who you were born to. My bet is we're here because you were thinking of it." A thought occurs to me, "you were, weren't you?"

"I might've been." He admits.

"Hang on, so if you don't like Jot - Jotun - whatchamacallit-" Yes, whatchamacallit is easier to sign than whatever this planet is called, "Why were you thinking of it? How much time do you spend feeling sorry for yourself?"

He's facing almost fully away from me, but I catch his lips move. His eyes are haunted. Suddenly, his hand closes around my wrist and begins dragging me to location unknown. What happened to no physical contact? I wonder if it's to stop me taunting him. Perhaps his heritage is a touchy subject. In retrospect that seems the obvious answer.

(I'm not a genius, okay?)

I examine his face closely as we walk, my feet practically dragging behind us.

I yank myself free, even thought I'm practically getting a free ride, and sign, "where are we going?"

"Until you figure out how to get us off this hellhole we - I - am getting out of sight. I advise you come."

"Wait, there are still Frost Giants here? No wonder they're in such a bad mood. They should really take up landscaping and plant trees or something."

Loki is already ignoring me again, so I elbow him.

"How'd you get so proficient in sign language?" I ask.

"I'm a God." He says shortly.

"Asgardian asshole." I sign. He looks at my hands for a moment, before shrugging and walking away. I grin when I realise he doesn't know the sign for 'Asshole'. Perfect.

It is a long time before he talks again. I am considering an attempt to teleport myself back, but I want to start small.

"How does your magic work?" Loki asks.

I wince, there has to be a better word than magic. His expression is so serious that it almost doesn't seem like we're playing fairy's in pre-school, but I'd prefer a better word.

"Basically, I don't know." I say. I can practically see the hope ebbing from his eyes. "Oh, but I can tell you what I can do, if that makes it better."

"Then do so." Loki says.

"There's no way to say it without it seeming cheesy."

"I am aware of the culture of Mortals." Loki says, his face twisting unpleasantly.

"Seen the actions figures of you, have you?"

"The what?"

"Never mind... I can..."

Loki senses and is annoyed at my hesitation. "I can create illusions and wear a horned helmet if that makes you hurry up."

"Why don't you make yourself look taller? And your hair less greasy?" I ask. He glares when he finishes watching my hands. "Okay, okay. I can summon things. I just sign the word. I've only done inanimate objects so far. It's pretty basic, really."

"And yet you summoned me?"

"It was a spur of the moment thing, I didn't really intend to. It must've had something to do with Asgard being boring."

"My prison cell was boring."

"It can't have been very well guarded if you disappeared so easily."

Loki gives me a deadpan look. "Do you think they would underestimate me?" He asks.

"You think a lot of yourself, don't you? Although I suppose destroying half a city and countless lives is a little bad."

"You are surprisingly unconcerned considering this. I understand you are not immortal."

I shrug, "just immoral. Plus, one wrong move and I pelt you with whatever comes to mind."

"Terrifying." He signs dryly.

"I can be rather intimidating." I say. "Where's this hide out of yours?"

"Near."

"Descriptive." I say. "So why did you try invade the world?"

"This is hardly the time for a heart to heart conversation."

"I'm curious. You really don't like us, why try rule us? Were we your practice planet or something?"

"In a sense. Proof that I can rule my birthright."

"Asgard? Or this place? Personally I don't think anyone would notice if you stuck your flag here."

Loki walks faster. He's decided to ignore me. I'm freezing cold, but not in the mood to use energy to catch up to him. We walk for ages, and it has me wishing I was oh-so-slightly fitter. The ice is biting cold and my teeth chatter.

"Here's the safe place." Loki signs finally. There, in front of us, is a hole in the ice. Inside the light is an inky dark blue. We walked for ages to find this!?

"Is this place still safe if we freeze to death?" I ask.

Loki shoots me an icy (hehe) look and slips inside. I follow. The space is small, but made larger when he nestles himself in a corner. I try talking, and am ignored (Again - I see a trend). Good thing I'm used to silence, or I'd begin to get unnerved... Although the look in his eyes... I poke him on the shoulder so I can face him head on, trying to discern what he's thinking.

"You okay?" I sign.

He smiles, a cynical half-smile that leaves me no doubt in my answer.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He looks sceptical, and shakes his head quickly - and firmly. I yawn and shrug, curling up against him. Predictably he stiffens, but apparently decides he doesn't want to freeze to death. Or maybe he can't, but decides he doesn't want me to. I am his ticket off this place. I should probably leave already, but why not stay? I'm enjoying this... Perhaps a little too much considering I'm stuck with a psycho and a shit ton of ice.

When he relaxes my head slips into the crook of his neck. My eyes open in surprise, and I catch sight of scars climbing up from the high neck of his... Robes? Suit? Prison jumpsuit? Whatever it is he's wearing. I don't think to stop my hands, which touch the white ridges. Aaaaaand he's stiffened up again.

I leave my exploration, but as I sink back down I feel the vibrations of his voice, the closest I've ever gotten to sound. I glance up, and then sit up so I can see his lips move.

"...Thors an asshole." He's saying. "I think I should hate him, but it's not really him, it's what he is to Odin. And my mother." His words are not really for my ears - or eyes, although he doesn't know this. His own gaze looks far into the distance, too unfocused to be unnerved by my stare at his lips.

I probably shouldn't repeat the rest of what he said (I know, I know), but on the off-chance more than one person reads this, I would like to avoid an ass-whooping. It gets deeper. And meaningful. The kind that would prompt a long winded reply from some people, but an awkward 'it's okay' from most. Thankfully I can't talk, although we both know I'm the latter person.

His face is sad. Not cynical or bitter or pissed off, but achingly sad and a little lonely. There is a single tear tracing its way down his face.

Fuck masculinity by the way. It's the courage to show emotion that we should appreciate in men, not the innate desire to open doors for us poor, helpless women.

I reach for his face and run my thumb down his cheek, blurring the tear track. I know I've said this already, but he stiffens again. His body, his face, turning back to stone. There is no expression left on his features, except maybe in his eyes. When I take my thumb from his face, a single drop of liquid clings to it. His eyes follow it. He suddenly realises that his words had been written on his face.

I consider giving him the empty words, the 'it's okay', or perhaps a long winded slightly off-topic rant would do. I have many things I'd like to say to him. Instead, I touch the tear to my own cheek, smile softly (And genuinely, albeit a little sadly) and nestle up against him, my face turned away. I leave him to himself, but rest my fingers on his arm because I am there.

*Sigh* sometimes things just have to get sappy. But the next day, I tell him yes, I'm ready to go home if he's ready to go home. I won't lie, I'm a little disappointed he says he will, but prison must suit him.

"Well," I sign, "see ya later!"

"Will you?" He asks, adjusting his collar. I can't help but look there, remembering how last night he told me about Thanos. Well, he didn't tell me, exactly, with the whole 'deaf and oblivious thing' happened, but you get the idea. To me he sounds like a large, vengeful, grape, but when he spoke the name, there was true fear on his face.

"Sure." I tell him, "that prison cell's a piece of cake to break you out of."

"You'll land us on Sakaar."

"Where now?"

"A planet surrounded by worm holes. Everything ends up there."

"Sounds cool."

"They hate me."

"Fair enough." I elbow him.

"I think I'm ready to go now."

"You've been ready to go since you got here. You should appreciate it more. Talk to the locals." He gives me a dark look, probably wondering why I was the person he ended up spilling his guts to. "Okay, okay, see ya later mr high-and-mighty."

And with that, I send him home.

TIMESKIP TO WHENEVER THE FUCK THE DEVEISTATION THAT IS INFINITY WAR HAPPENES↴

You need two or more people to play monopoly. This is a solid explanation to why Loki ended up on the floor in my living room.

"Thought you might be bored." I sign, stopping when he comes into view. "Or not. You don't look too good. Do they feed you in there? Not enough sun? No, vampires burn in sunlight. Unless Twilight is real, then you sparkle. Please don't tell me Twilight is real." No response to my babbling. For him this is probably normal, but I turn him over and find his skin blue.

Not frost giant blue but I-choked-on-an-ice-cube blue. Well this isn't good. I put my cheek to his mouth and feel his breath. Alive then. Should a celebrate?

Ah, don't worry, the whole breathing thing changes pretty quick. He begins to cough and I realise he's inhaled my hair. I jerk away and wipe the spit off. Gross. He rolls onto his stomach and rasps in a couple more breaths. He manages not to vomit, thank god - or him, I suppose.

"Was this a bad time?" I ask when he sits up.

"Anytimes a bad time right now." He signs. When his done he massages his neck.

"Another person that hates you?"

"Thanos."

"I'm right then."

"Person is a strong word."

"Ah, right, the grape. The one who destroyed New York this time 'round."

"It was him last time too."

"I'm pretty sure it was you."

"Summon him here and ask him."

"I'm, like, ninety percent sure this is a trap."

"Of course it's not."

You've got to be kidding me. "This apartment survived against all odds. You want me to destroy it now!? I just paid it off."

"Get insurance. This isn't the time for petty human concerns." He says, no amusement in his face whatsoever. I cross my arms and he changes tact. "Can you summon infinity stones?"

"I dunno, maybe." I say.

NOTE↴

Fin.

I need help. I was writing this whole thing like hfghejhsjadjdjjfhf why did Loki dieeee?

(he's not dead)

And if you're wondering, yes, this is what I do in my spare time. I zone out and suddenly I'm coming up with proof that he lived (We all know the 'Loki only holds his weapon in his left hand in an illusion' theory is utter bullshit but imma bet on it anyway)

No. I'm not obsessed .

Any who, I love love loved writing this because it was super funny and I probably shouldn't have skipped the emotional spill-the-guts bit but I'm still learning, ya know