Far too many options, so many outfits you could put together and you could only choose one. Loki, the throne of Asgard now his, had organised a celebratory party in his own honour (what more could you expect from him, really). One of those guests attending would be you, and you were stood in your room attempting to pick out what you wanted to wear.

A minuscule twinkle of light appeared from behind you, but your eyes were too focused on the overwhelming number of clothing items in your wardrobe to notice.

“Having difficulty?” Came the smooth voice of who else but the God of Mischief himself behind you. His hands were clasped behind him as he approached, the occasional flicker across his body indicating that he’d summoned an illusion of himself to come and check up on you.

But of course, his definition of ‘checking up’ was pestering you whilst you were busy with a fairly important task and adding in the occasional sly remark to push your buttons that little bit more.

“Such lovely options… Perhaps you could layer them all upon one another? I would enjoy seeing such a compiled outfit attempting to take a seat at the banquet.” He snickered, coming up to stand beside you as he tilted his body to be face-level with you.

“Don’t let it get too overwhelming,” He grinned, waving a hand around in front of your face in a jesting attempt to block your view from the clothes before you. “I couldn’t imagine trying to dance with a mind so muddled from staring into these garments for so long.” Added the All-Butcher, starting to slowly circle you as you returned your gaze to the wardrobe.