Thor Fic: "Purity Is Totally Overrated" (Darcy, PG)
Just a silly, fluffy little piece I threw together because the idea amused me too much not to. Set in some hypothetical, far flung future after Loki's gotten his shit back together and Thor's Asgardian friends and mortal ones have gotten to meet each other.
Title: Purity Is Totally Overrated
Characters: Darcy, Loki, Volstagg, Sif, Fandral, Hogun
Rating: PG for vague reference to sex
Length: 2,000 words
Summary: Darcy keeps finding out that not everything is the same way it is in fairytales.
Here’s the thing that Darcy’s probably going to have the hardest time getting used to: that Asgard is weird.
And it’s not even the whole overt culture shock thing, where almost everyone likes to smash things with their fists and drink lots of mead and generally act like they’re Leif Eriksson. No, it’s more the part where everything’s all shiny and glowing and, y’know, magical, and all the Asgardians walk around like it’s no big deal.
So really, when Loki knocked on her door this morning and told her that they were going for a walk because he wanted to show her something, Darcy prepared herself for just about anything.
But she never would’ve expected…this.
“Jane and Erik are never, ever going to believe me.” Darcy stares down at the herd of tiny unicorns they’re standing in the middle of.
The creatures barely come to her knees, their horns aren’t any thicker than a few fingers stuck together, and overall they remind her way more of goats than they do horses, but still: totally unicorns.
“I so knew I should’ve brought my camera.”
“Couldn’t risk it,” Loki says mildly. He gives one of the unicorns a rub behind the ears with his knuckles, and it “meh”s pleasantly, before going right back to cheerfully head-butting him in the leg. “You know you would never be allowed to take any pictures of these back home. What if you tried to show someone?”
“What,” says Darcy, all affronted, “you don’t trust me?”
Loki only gives her a look, which shows he’s gotten to know her well.
He’s also a woman, at present, and the fact that Darcy’s seen this enough times to not think twice on it might mean she’s had too much of the Kool-Aid. She goes back to focusing on the unicorns and thinking how it’s too bad she’ll never see how many hits they could’ve gotten her on Facebook.
They’re in a meadow and there have to be at least thirty unicorns pressing their way around them. Like, literally pressing; they’re all soft fur and toothpick legs and big, dopey eyes, and every last one of them is frantically nudging and shoving the others in their attempts to nuzzle against either Darcy or Loki.
It’s almost kind of a letdown, really. Not that Darcy doesn’t think it’s still crazy-awesome, but with how they are in the fairytales she’d have figured unicorns would act more elusive…not like animals at a petting zoo conditioned through seasons of pellet handouts to launch themselves at any human body that enters their enclosure.
Darcy’s fingers are getting tired. There are too many unicorns that want to be petted and she doesn’t have enough hands. “I kinda thought they’d be bigger.” Ugh, she sounds like such a tourist.
“Oh, well, these ones are young yet,” Loki explains. “Give them another summer or so. But no; they don’t get nearly as big as they’re portrayed in some of your stories.”
“No kidding.”
Darcy eyes the baby unicorns. Most of them are either silver or white, but a few are golden, and she spots a few more that are black or brown. There’s even one that’s got a brown and white dappled hide, like an Appaloosa pony, which is determinedly gnawing on the edge of Loki’s cape.
“So, I guess that whole virgin thing is bunk too, huh?” she guesses, pulling her hand away from one that keeps trying to lick her fingers. Even spit from a baby unicorn is still gross. “I mean, I know I’m so not, and even though you’re kinda on the antisocial side, I was still giving you the benefit of the doubt-”
“No,” Loki cuts her off, coolly. “I’m not.” He has a narrow call with one of the unicorns wanting to get a mouthful of his female form’s longer hair, and he snatches it out of the way just in time. “But yes, as you’ve correctly deduced, that bit about them being attracted to ‘purity’ is complete fabrication.”
“Is there anything they’re not attracted to?” Darcy muses. “They seem kind of…easy.”
Loki’s eyebrows rise slightly, though she can’t tell if it’s in amusement or something else. “They like girls. If a man goes after them they’ll run the other way, but all you need is one female and the opposite effect occurs.”
“Oh. So that must be why you’re…” She gestures at Loki.
He avoids direct eye contact.
“Actually, it’s been found they have a tendency to follow me around regardless.”
He sounds kind of embarrassed. Darcy figures she probably shouldn’t ask.
After a beat he continues: “Really, all they need is to be lured in. After that, they’re fair indifferent to whoever wants to be around them.”
As if drawn by some cosmic force that wants to prove him right, that very moment Volstagg wanders up. A few of the unicorns shy back, but the rest either sniff him and then carry on, or completely ignore his presence.
“Good day to you, Lady Darcy!” Volstagg greets her brightly, his axe resting on one shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting to see you out this far.” He half bows. “And to your fair companion as well. Wherever did you find such a lovely-?”
“Volstagg,” Loki interrupts him, irate, before Darcy can even get out a “Wow, awkward”.
It must be something about the voice because the red-haired Asgardian quickly does a double-take.
“Oh.” He takes a step back, sheepish recognition on his face. “Sorry, friend.” He clears his throat and aims for a more conversational tone. “You know, I keep forgetting you can do that.”
“Selective amnesia?” Loki offers, dryly.
One of the unicorns trips over its own wobbly legs, bleats loudly, and then crawls back up and sprints off again. Whether they’re anything like what she expected or not, Darcy has to admit they’re totally adorable. Maybe she can’t take pictures, but she wonders if she’d be allowed to keep one. What if she promised to be extra careful and keep it out of any Muggle’s sight?
“We Warriors Three and Sif are sparring not too far from here,” Volstagg informs them. “Perhaps you’d care to join us for lunch?”
He pats his armored belly with a smile as if for emphasis.
“First lunch of the day for you, Volstagg, or second?” Loki asks. Volstagg gamely ignores him, instead giving Darcy an earnestly hopeful look.
“Yeah, sure.” Darcy nods. “That’d be cool.”
“You should probably change back, Loki,” Volstagg remarks as they begin walking. “You know how…confused it makes Fandral, when you’re in that form.”
“That’s what she said,” Darcy mutters. It earns her a perplexed look from Volstagg and about half an eye-roll from Loki, who has a swift learning curve and has spent enough time on Earth by now to get at least some of the jokes.
They lose most of their unicorn escort, between them moving and Loki becoming a guy again, but about a dozen keep following, still frolicking by their ankles and begging for affection. A gold one keeps limping, either because of a hurt foot or a gimpy leg, and after it stumbles enough times Volstagg scoops it up with his free hand and carries it effortlessly in his arm.
“They aren’t all that bright, poor things,” he says, as the unicorn wriggles in his grasp, bleating. “It’s bad enough here, where we’ve learned to respect and leave them alone. Small wonder they got hunted to extinction on Midgard.”
“Yeah, that’s us humans for you,” Darcy replies. “Destroyers of all that is innocent, earthy, and too dim to fend for itself. Really, you’d think we’d have gotten that whole paint with all the colors of the wind thing down, by now, but then what would Al Gore make documentaries about?”
Volstagg clearly has no idea what she’s saying, but offers an agreeable, “Indeed!”
When they reach the others they find Hogun and Sif in the middle of a practice bout, while Fandral leans jauntily against a nearby tree watching them.
At least, he watches until he notices the group approaching, at which point his eyes light up and he bounds eagerly toward them.
In fact he ends up plowing right through the fighters’ space, and Hogun shoots an aggravated look at Fandral’s back as he has to rein himself in before he accidentally smashes the other warrior in the head.
Fandral doesn’t appear to notice. “Ah! Lady Darcy! How wonderful it is, for you to be joining us!” Stopping in front of her, he puffs his chest and draws in a breath. “Why, the beauty of a fine day just such as this, can only be improved by-”
“Hey Fandral,” Darcy returns before he can really get going, since about half the time his waxing ‘poetic’ makes as much sense to her as she was making to Volstagg a moment ago. “What’s up?”
Fandral appears a bit let down, but rebounds quickly. “Up? Why, nothing much is ‘up’ with me, my good lady. What is ‘up’ with you?”
He grins so proudly at his successful use of Earth terminology Darcy feels like she should pat him on the head and feed him a cookie or something.
“If I had but known you intended to venture forth this morning,” Fandral continues, enthusiasm unabated, “I would have only been too pleased to join you.” He delicately grasps her hand and bows his forehead to it, which is something Darcy’s noticed he tends to do to her a lot. “Indeed, my day would have become so more agreeable to me in the pleasure of your company.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m sure you had important warrior-type stuff to do.” Darcy gestures vaguely to her left. “Besides, I had Loki to show me around.”
Fandral not only lets go of her hand but the smile drops right off his face, as he gives Loki - standing far enough back, mostly attending to the mini-herd - a narrow-eyed gaze.
“Oh. Loki,” he says, sounding weirdly peeved. “I hadn’t noticed you standing there.”
Volstagg remarks, glibly, “You would have if you’d been with us five minutes ago.”
Darcy snorts, and Loki gives the sound of an unsuccessfully repressed laugh as he smirks, while Fandral just looks flummoxed.
“What? What do you mean by…?”
“Mehhh!” one of the unicorns interrupts.
It sounds excited. Its stumpy little tail wisp even begins to wag. It bounces forward and half the others follow its example.
It isn’t hard to see where they’re heading: right toward Sif.
“Oh dear,” Fandral notes, wincing.
“Confound it to Hela!” Sif gives an aggravated cry. She grits her teeth and attempts to shoo the unicorns away with her staff. “Get away from me, you blasted beasts!”
Completely undeterred the unicorns assault her ankles, nuzzling and bleating. Sif looks incredibly tempted to start kicking them. She settles for walking away and then, when that proves unsuccessful, breaking into a run. The unicorns wobble after her happily.
Hogun watches from a safe distance with a stoic expression on his face that Darcy just knows means he’s laughing on the inside.
“Loki!” Sif shrieks from halfway across the field, furious.
“I’m sorry, Sif!” he calls after her, apologetic-sounding enough that Darcy figures he might actually be telling the truth. “I completely forgot!”
Noticing her confused frown, Volstagg gives Darcy a shrug.
“They have this unerring tendency to run to those that want them least,” he explains. The unicorn in his arm has given up on escaping and instead placidly chews on his beard. “Bit like cats, really.”
It looks like Sif might go down in history as the first Asgardian warrior to be treed by unicorns.
The brown and white unicorn’s finally grown tired of licking the embroidery off Loki’s cape and wanders by Darcy’s feet. She picks it up carefully, cuddling it in her arms.
She doesn’t care what anyone says; unless there’s an Asgardian version of Customs that’s going to stop her, she’s deciding she’s keeping this one.
Darcy thinks she’ll name him ‘Spot’.
Title: Purity Is Totally Overrated
Characters: Darcy, Loki, Volstagg, Sif, Fandral, Hogun
Rating: PG for vague reference to sex
Length: 2,000 words
Summary: Darcy keeps finding out that not everything is the same way it is in fairytales.
Here’s the thing that Darcy’s probably going to have the hardest time getting used to: that Asgard is weird.
And it’s not even the whole overt culture shock thing, where almost everyone likes to smash things with their fists and drink lots of mead and generally act like they’re Leif Eriksson. No, it’s more the part where everything’s all shiny and glowing and, y’know, magical, and all the Asgardians walk around like it’s no big deal.
So really, when Loki knocked on her door this morning and told her that they were going for a walk because he wanted to show her something, Darcy prepared herself for just about anything.
But she never would’ve expected…this.
“Jane and Erik are never, ever going to believe me.” Darcy stares down at the herd of tiny unicorns they’re standing in the middle of.
The creatures barely come to her knees, their horns aren’t any thicker than a few fingers stuck together, and overall they remind her way more of goats than they do horses, but still: totally unicorns.
“I so knew I should’ve brought my camera.”
“Couldn’t risk it,” Loki says mildly. He gives one of the unicorns a rub behind the ears with his knuckles, and it “meh”s pleasantly, before going right back to cheerfully head-butting him in the leg. “You know you would never be allowed to take any pictures of these back home. What if you tried to show someone?”
“What,” says Darcy, all affronted, “you don’t trust me?”
Loki only gives her a look, which shows he’s gotten to know her well.
He’s also a woman, at present, and the fact that Darcy’s seen this enough times to not think twice on it might mean she’s had too much of the Kool-Aid. She goes back to focusing on the unicorns and thinking how it’s too bad she’ll never see how many hits they could’ve gotten her on Facebook.
They’re in a meadow and there have to be at least thirty unicorns pressing their way around them. Like, literally pressing; they’re all soft fur and toothpick legs and big, dopey eyes, and every last one of them is frantically nudging and shoving the others in their attempts to nuzzle against either Darcy or Loki.
It’s almost kind of a letdown, really. Not that Darcy doesn’t think it’s still crazy-awesome, but with how they are in the fairytales she’d have figured unicorns would act more elusive…not like animals at a petting zoo conditioned through seasons of pellet handouts to launch themselves at any human body that enters their enclosure.
Darcy’s fingers are getting tired. There are too many unicorns that want to be petted and she doesn’t have enough hands. “I kinda thought they’d be bigger.” Ugh, she sounds like such a tourist.
“Oh, well, these ones are young yet,” Loki explains. “Give them another summer or so. But no; they don’t get nearly as big as they’re portrayed in some of your stories.”
“No kidding.”
Darcy eyes the baby unicorns. Most of them are either silver or white, but a few are golden, and she spots a few more that are black or brown. There’s even one that’s got a brown and white dappled hide, like an Appaloosa pony, which is determinedly gnawing on the edge of Loki’s cape.
“So, I guess that whole virgin thing is bunk too, huh?” she guesses, pulling her hand away from one that keeps trying to lick her fingers. Even spit from a baby unicorn is still gross. “I mean, I know I’m so not, and even though you’re kinda on the antisocial side, I was still giving you the benefit of the doubt-”
“No,” Loki cuts her off, coolly. “I’m not.” He has a narrow call with one of the unicorns wanting to get a mouthful of his female form’s longer hair, and he snatches it out of the way just in time. “But yes, as you’ve correctly deduced, that bit about them being attracted to ‘purity’ is complete fabrication.”
“Is there anything they’re not attracted to?” Darcy muses. “They seem kind of…easy.”
Loki’s eyebrows rise slightly, though she can’t tell if it’s in amusement or something else. “They like girls. If a man goes after them they’ll run the other way, but all you need is one female and the opposite effect occurs.”
“Oh. So that must be why you’re…” She gestures at Loki.
He avoids direct eye contact.
“Actually, it’s been found they have a tendency to follow me around regardless.”
He sounds kind of embarrassed. Darcy figures she probably shouldn’t ask.
After a beat he continues: “Really, all they need is to be lured in. After that, they’re fair indifferent to whoever wants to be around them.”
As if drawn by some cosmic force that wants to prove him right, that very moment Volstagg wanders up. A few of the unicorns shy back, but the rest either sniff him and then carry on, or completely ignore his presence.
“Good day to you, Lady Darcy!” Volstagg greets her brightly, his axe resting on one shoulder. “I wasn’t expecting to see you out this far.” He half bows. “And to your fair companion as well. Wherever did you find such a lovely-?”
“Volstagg,” Loki interrupts him, irate, before Darcy can even get out a “Wow, awkward”.
It must be something about the voice because the red-haired Asgardian quickly does a double-take.
“Oh.” He takes a step back, sheepish recognition on his face. “Sorry, friend.” He clears his throat and aims for a more conversational tone. “You know, I keep forgetting you can do that.”
“Selective amnesia?” Loki offers, dryly.
One of the unicorns trips over its own wobbly legs, bleats loudly, and then crawls back up and sprints off again. Whether they’re anything like what she expected or not, Darcy has to admit they’re totally adorable. Maybe she can’t take pictures, but she wonders if she’d be allowed to keep one. What if she promised to be extra careful and keep it out of any Muggle’s sight?
“We Warriors Three and Sif are sparring not too far from here,” Volstagg informs them. “Perhaps you’d care to join us for lunch?”
He pats his armored belly with a smile as if for emphasis.
“First lunch of the day for you, Volstagg, or second?” Loki asks. Volstagg gamely ignores him, instead giving Darcy an earnestly hopeful look.
“Yeah, sure.” Darcy nods. “That’d be cool.”
“You should probably change back, Loki,” Volstagg remarks as they begin walking. “You know how…confused it makes Fandral, when you’re in that form.”
“That’s what she said,” Darcy mutters. It earns her a perplexed look from Volstagg and about half an eye-roll from Loki, who has a swift learning curve and has spent enough time on Earth by now to get at least some of the jokes.
They lose most of their unicorn escort, between them moving and Loki becoming a guy again, but about a dozen keep following, still frolicking by their ankles and begging for affection. A gold one keeps limping, either because of a hurt foot or a gimpy leg, and after it stumbles enough times Volstagg scoops it up with his free hand and carries it effortlessly in his arm.
“They aren’t all that bright, poor things,” he says, as the unicorn wriggles in his grasp, bleating. “It’s bad enough here, where we’ve learned to respect and leave them alone. Small wonder they got hunted to extinction on Midgard.”
“Yeah, that’s us humans for you,” Darcy replies. “Destroyers of all that is innocent, earthy, and too dim to fend for itself. Really, you’d think we’d have gotten that whole paint with all the colors of the wind thing down, by now, but then what would Al Gore make documentaries about?”
Volstagg clearly has no idea what she’s saying, but offers an agreeable, “Indeed!”
When they reach the others they find Hogun and Sif in the middle of a practice bout, while Fandral leans jauntily against a nearby tree watching them.
At least, he watches until he notices the group approaching, at which point his eyes light up and he bounds eagerly toward them.
In fact he ends up plowing right through the fighters’ space, and Hogun shoots an aggravated look at Fandral’s back as he has to rein himself in before he accidentally smashes the other warrior in the head.
Fandral doesn’t appear to notice. “Ah! Lady Darcy! How wonderful it is, for you to be joining us!” Stopping in front of her, he puffs his chest and draws in a breath. “Why, the beauty of a fine day just such as this, can only be improved by-”
“Hey Fandral,” Darcy returns before he can really get going, since about half the time his waxing ‘poetic’ makes as much sense to her as she was making to Volstagg a moment ago. “What’s up?”
Fandral appears a bit let down, but rebounds quickly. “Up? Why, nothing much is ‘up’ with me, my good lady. What is ‘up’ with you?”
He grins so proudly at his successful use of Earth terminology Darcy feels like she should pat him on the head and feed him a cookie or something.
“If I had but known you intended to venture forth this morning,” Fandral continues, enthusiasm unabated, “I would have only been too pleased to join you.” He delicately grasps her hand and bows his forehead to it, which is something Darcy’s noticed he tends to do to her a lot. “Indeed, my day would have become so more agreeable to me in the pleasure of your company.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’m sure you had important warrior-type stuff to do.” Darcy gestures vaguely to her left. “Besides, I had Loki to show me around.”
Fandral not only lets go of her hand but the smile drops right off his face, as he gives Loki - standing far enough back, mostly attending to the mini-herd - a narrow-eyed gaze.
“Oh. Loki,” he says, sounding weirdly peeved. “I hadn’t noticed you standing there.”
Volstagg remarks, glibly, “You would have if you’d been with us five minutes ago.”
Darcy snorts, and Loki gives the sound of an unsuccessfully repressed laugh as he smirks, while Fandral just looks flummoxed.
“What? What do you mean by…?”
“Mehhh!” one of the unicorns interrupts.
It sounds excited. Its stumpy little tail wisp even begins to wag. It bounces forward and half the others follow its example.
It isn’t hard to see where they’re heading: right toward Sif.
“Oh dear,” Fandral notes, wincing.
“Confound it to Hela!” Sif gives an aggravated cry. She grits her teeth and attempts to shoo the unicorns away with her staff. “Get away from me, you blasted beasts!”
Completely undeterred the unicorns assault her ankles, nuzzling and bleating. Sif looks incredibly tempted to start kicking them. She settles for walking away and then, when that proves unsuccessful, breaking into a run. The unicorns wobble after her happily.
Hogun watches from a safe distance with a stoic expression on his face that Darcy just knows means he’s laughing on the inside.
“Loki!” Sif shrieks from halfway across the field, furious.
“I’m sorry, Sif!” he calls after her, apologetic-sounding enough that Darcy figures he might actually be telling the truth. “I completely forgot!”
Noticing her confused frown, Volstagg gives Darcy a shrug.
“They have this unerring tendency to run to those that want them least,” he explains. The unicorn in his arm has given up on escaping and instead placidly chews on his beard. “Bit like cats, really.”
It looks like Sif might go down in history as the first Asgardian warrior to be treed by unicorns.
The brown and white unicorn’s finally grown tired of licking the embroidery off Loki’s cape and wanders by Darcy’s feet. She picks it up carefully, cuddling it in her arms.
She doesn’t care what anyone says; unless there’s an Asgardian version of Customs that’s going to stop her, she’s deciding she’s keeping this one.
Darcy thinks she’ll name him ‘Spot’.