Hi everyone, it's been a while since the last chapter, and I apologize for the lack of updates. But if you didn't read my announcements, or you're reading this somewhere, that's not Wattpad, then let me explain. It was finals week at my college, and I needed to take time off to study for my test.
I can proudly say that I passed, and since that class is the last class whose credits I needed to graduate. You're boy is graduating from college real soon. Sadly, the time for a graduation ceremony has passed, so they'll just email me my diploma in about 3 weeks. I say sadly for my mom who always wanted to watch me be given my college diploma, but if she wants to do that, she'll have to wait until next years graduation ceremony, and she and I have just about had enough my college, who because of a mistake I should've graduated last semester, but the stupid ass councelor who picked my classes for me last semester, didn't give the class that I needed that had the credits to pass.
Still, now that that rant is as to why I've been silent for a little while is done. I hope to celebrate today, since I realized that today is the 1-year anniversary of Not So Friendly Anymore.
That's right, it's already been a year since I started this story. When I first started this story, I didn't expect to become so popular. When I first started writing this story, I mostly did it because I read Spider-Man Lethal Protector by @Ryujin67. The concept seemed cool, so I started to write my version of the story.
Looking back, I thought it would go the same as my other stories, where I'm inspired for a few chapters, then slowly I'll lose inspiration to keep writing, and eventually I'll just stop writing it and only periodically update it whenever I get a burst of inspiration or out of boredom.
It never could've occurred to me that this would become my most popular story. Or that so many people would like it and want more of it.
So I just want to say...Thank you. Thank each and every one of you. There's nothing I can do to say how grateful I am to have so many people who like my story. And I hope to continue to make each and every one of you happy to read my story, and any others that I write in the future.
So to wrap this emotional BS up, I'll just say again, there are no words to describe how thankful I am to each and every one of you. And don't worry, I'm working on the story as we speak. The next chapter will be ready by Monday.
But in order to make up for making you all wait a while, I suppose I could give you all a little scene from a future chapter (not next chapter, but a future chapter).
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The golden halls of Asgard were cloaked in a rare stillness, the echoes of the feast's revelry long faded, replaced by the soft scrape of a whetstone and the faint crackle of dying braziers. Thor sat alone at a low, rune-etched table tucked into a shadowed alcove, his broad frame bent over Mjolnir. The hammer, its surface marred with ash and faint gouges from a recent battle, gleamed under his careful touch.
His calloused hands moved with a warrior's precision, a cloth and a small vial of sacred oil in hand, polishing away the scars of combat. The air was heavy with the sharp tang of metal and oil, mingling with the lingering warmth of the hall's fires. Somewhere in Asgard's infirmary, Peter Parker, or Anansi, the Weaver of Stories, lay recovering, his body bruised and bandaged, his mortal frame taxed by the same battle that had marked Mjolnir.
Thor sighed, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "You are never so certain as when you don't know just how wrong you can be," he muttered, his tone heavy with exasperation as he scrubbed at a stubborn gouge on Mjolnir's head with a small brush.
Loki's voice slithered from the shadows, his black-and-green robes catching the firelight as he stepped forward, his smirk sharp and venomous. "Is your precious hammer broken, brother?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern as he leaned against a pillar, his raven hair gleaming like polished obsidian.
"The heart of Mjolnir is eternal," Thor said, not looking up, his fingers steady as he worked. "But its surface bears the scars of battle. A Midgardian smith once wrote of metals that could withstand any force, but even the mightiest need care after a fight."
Loki's lips twitched, his boredom thinly veiled. "I'd have thought you'd be tending to your wounded spider in the infirmary, not fussing over your toy."
"Then you know me not at all," Thor replied, his voice low but edged with steel. "My duty is to all, my hammer, my allies, Asgard itself. Even you should understand that."
"But it's flawed now," Loki pressed, stepping closer, his smirk widening as he pointed to a faint scratch on Mjolnir's surface. "Not so perfect anymore, is it?"
"It was flawless," Thor said, his eyes narrowing as he set Mjolnir on the table before Loki. "Until the battle. The marks are new, but its power hums true. Listen closely, you'll hear it."
He nudged the hammer toward Loki. "Listen."
Loki sighed, his theatrics exaggerated as he leaned in, his hair falling forward. In a flash, Thor's hand shot out, seizing Loki's collar and slamming his face into the table beside Mjolnir. The hammer stood unmoved, but Loki's head struck the wood with a sickening crunch, blood spattering across the polished surface. A nearby goblet toppled, its shards scattering like stars across the table, mingling with scattered tools, rune-etched schematics, and half-finished sketches of Asgardian war machines.
Loki gasped, pain and shock twisting his features as he clutched his face, blood trickling between his fingers.
Thor hauled Loki over the table, scattering tools and parchments, lifting him by the neck with no more effort than lifting a mortal. Loki's eyes blazed with a dark, almost reptilian malice, his bloodied lips parting to speak, but Thor didn't give him the chance. Like a fist-fighter in a brawl, he battered Loki's face with pistoning jabs, each blow snapping his head back with a crack of bone, until he had him pinned against a towering iron column.
Thor drew back his free hand, reaching for Mjolnir, the hammer flying to his hand as if called by his will alone.
But he left the blow hanging.
Loki's once-perfect face was a ruin, leaking blood, snot, and tears, his breath hoarse and clogged with broken teeth. His swollen eyes struggled to focus as he tried to speak, but Thor cut him off, his voice cold and unyielding.
"No, brother," Thor said, his tone a low growl that echoed with the weight of a storm. "I am speaking now, and you will listen."
Thor leaned in, his grip on Loki unrelenting. "I have bitten my tongue and allowed you to weave your schemes in this place," he said, his voice steady but burning with cold anger. "I have followed your lead, listened to your lies, and let you set the pace of this venture."
He leaned closer, his eyes like thunderclouds. "That ends now."
Thor released Loki, who staggered but held himself erect, his bloodied face defiant despite the pain. "Your tricks lack discipline, your allies fight like beasts, and you've squandered lives for your vanity," Thor continued. "From here onward, I am in charge. Your followers will obey my orders, they will follow my lead, and they will do nothing except by my command. If you agree, we will continue this path together. If not, I will take my warriors and leave you here. Do you understand?"
Loki nodded, swallowing a mouthful of blood, his voice a gargled mockery of its usual silken cadence. "I understand, brother," he said, his swollen lips twisting into a grotesque grin, as if the violence was somehow amusing. "You humble me and expect me to swallow my pride. To be your lapdog."
"I don't need a damn lapdog," Thor snarled, his hand tightening on Mjolnir's handle. "I need an equal."
"But I am not your equal, brother," Loki said, his bloodied grin widening, his eyes glinting with defiant malice. "I surpass you in every way."
"And yet I'm the one holding the hammer," Thor said, his voice a low rumble, the weight of his words promising a reckoning yet to come.
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