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Dear Diary,

I’ve dealt with some serious cases since starting this supernatural therapy thing—Dracula’s midlife crisis, Seth’s restraining order issues, Jason Todd’s existential spiral—but today?

Today, I met my match.

His name? Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, Certified Menace to Therapy.

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It started like this:

The door didn’t open.

I blinked. “Uh, next client?”

No one walked in.

Then a voice—smooth, amused, British-ish in that old-timey royal way. “Doctor, I must say, your security is abysmal. You should really invest in stronger wards.”

I turned, and there he was, sitting in my chair like he owned the place, boots kicked up on my desk, flipping through my client files like a bored CEO.

Tall. Dark-haired. Green-eyed and smirking. Dressed in full Norse regalia, complete with a cape that was dramatically draped over one arm.

Instant headache.

“Loki,” I sighed.

He flashed a devastatingly smug grin. “Ah, you do know me. Good. This saves me the trouble of explaining.”

“Yeah, I know you. I also know you’re not on my schedule.”

“Truly? Well, I am now.” He clapped his hands together. “Go on, Doctor. Fix me.”

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Session Begins (or Attempts to)

Me: “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Loki: “Ah, but who truly belongs anywhere, Doctor? Identity is a fickle thing.”

Me: “You broke into my office.”

Loki: grinning “And what does that say about you, that you left it so vulnerable?”

I exhaled slowly. “Fine. Since you’re here, what exactly do you need therapy for?”

He waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t. This is merely a test of your skills. You see, my boorish brother thought it would be hilarious to recommend me therapy, but as you can see, I am perfectly well-adjusted and have no issues whatsoever.”

Me: squinting at him

Loki: smiling like an unrepentant little sht*

“Loki,” I said, “you once faked your own death just to emotionally torment Thor.”

His eyes gleamed. “Oh? So you have done your research. I’m flattered.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Let’s play along. If you were to—hypothetically—have any deep-seated issues, what might they be?”

Loki leaned back, feigning deep thought. “Ah, where to begin? Perhaps it’s the crippling weight of my father’s disapproval. Or maybe the agonizing loneliness of being forever in my brother’s shadow. Or perhaps—” he placed a hand dramatically over his chest, “—it is the tragic realization that I am too brilliant, too sharp, too magnificent for the simple minds of Midgard to truly appreciate me.”

I deadpanned. “Wow. So brave of you to share that.”

He smirked. “I know. I am quite courageous.”

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The Actual Breakthrough (Sort Of)

Me: “Loki, be real with me for one second. Do you even know who you are outside of causing problems?”

Loki: visibly short-circuits for half a second before smirking “A charming rogue? A misunderstood genius?”

Me: “A lonely god with abandonment issues?”

Loki: flinches “How dare—”

Me: “Oh my God, that is it, isn’t it?”

For the first time, he actually looked uncomfortable. Then, quick as a flash, he smoothed his face back into that smug expression.

“Doctor, you wound me.” He stood, brushing imaginary dust off his tunic. “I fear I must cut this session short. I have other places to be, chaos to sow, myths to rewrite in my favor.”

“That’s convenient,” I muttered.

He winked. “If you ever tire of this life, you’d make an excellent trickster, you know.”

Then—POOF.

He turned into a damn raven and flew out the window.

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Session Notes (What Even Was That?)

Client: Loki, Norse God of Mischief, professional therapy evader.

Issue: Massive identity crisis buried under layers of arrogance and mischief. Also, daddy issues. So many daddy issues.

Plan: Honestly? Trick him into more sessions. Maybe next time, actually lock my door.

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Final Thoughts

Diary,

I don’t know if I helped Loki today, but I do know two things:

1. He’s definitely coming back.

2. I need a vacation.