Loki -2021-2021 Now

He was Loki. God of Stories. And he had lived an entire lifetime in twelve months.

November was cold. He stood on the edge of the multiverse, watching timelines bloom like flowers from a corpse. He Who Remains had called it a loom. Loki called it a garden. And gardens needed gardeners. But not masters. Never again a master. Loki -2021-2021

In July, he pruned a rogue timeline himself. Not because the TVA ordered it—there was no TVA—but because some branches grew thorns. A reality where a mad scientist weaponized grief into a plague. Loki stood at the epicenter, held the detonation in his hands, and whispered, “Glorious purpose.” Then he let it go. The branch dissolved. No one cheered. He was fine with that. He was Loki

2021–2021. Short. Impossible. Perfect. November was cold