From some of the most lucrative movies of all time to this.
Hundreds of options for merchandise -action figures, posters, even lunch boxes- and I had to be stuck being a cartoon, childish version of myself, nothing but cotton inside and out. A fierce warrior transformed into a brightly coloured, pathetic pillow-like toy.
My owner is not even a child. Why am I here, then? She hasn’t ever taken me out of my flimsy packaging, and might the Gods know why. You know, the ones other than myself.
She looks at me and stops for a second with a smile, frozen in time, the flash of memories reflected in her eyes, before going on with her day and leaving me here, forgotten once more. I remember when she got me; the threat of spilling tears, as a handful of people handed me over to her, covered in thin paper decorated with my assembled friends. Now that I think about it, I realise I have yet to see them again. Is that why she smiles? Is she happy about leaving her friends?
Humans are confusing.
And me, Thor, mighty God of Thunder, am left to gather dust at this shelf, locked in my box untouched, reduced to the receiver of random, unexplained smiles.