#and i just - it really fucking depresses me okay that loki has such

[muddyorbsblr]

secret notes part 2: torete

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Summary: The morning after Stark's NYE party, and your first upload, you're in better spirits and the team assumes it's because you hooked up with someone after the party.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none, really…this is just fluff [let me know if i missed smth tho and i'll update immediately]

Things to be aware of: idiots in love; angst; translations will be in the Author's Notes

"Do you mean to tell me, Brother, that you kissed Lady Y/N at the stroke of midnight last night, and still nothing came of it?" Thor questioned his brother.

"Well, Thor, you entered my chambers barreling in to greet the new year. Do you see Y/N anywhere?" He shook his head. "No. No you do not. You see no one here but myself."

"Despite the offers of those beguiling women who call themselves Angels?" Thor's tone dripped with disbelief. "I saw them surrounding you last night, Brother. They seemed very willing to have kept you company if that was all you desired."

"I desire Y/N. I care not for the willingness of others," Loki answered simply. "To answer the questions boiling in your head, Brother, yes. This does mean that I would rather spend my nights alone than have any other share my bed." 

"I do not understand you, Loki. Your words…they imply a loyalty to Lady Y/N that is reserved for—"

"She has my heart, Brother." Thor's eyes widened at his words. "I cannot, will not, see myself desiring another. Not since my eyes met hers. The next lover I take will be my last, and it can only be her. Every other, no matter how striking they may be, can only pale in comparison to her."

"Brother, you must tell her. Your affections might not be unreturned."

"I will not risk her friendship if they are. I would rather play a painfully platonic role in her life than none at all," he answered Thor dismissively. "She is far too valuable for me to lose. I would rather love her in secrecy and be able to protect her where and when I can, than confess my affections and face her not only rejecting my heart, but rejecting my entire presence in her life."

"Perhaps I will never truly understand you, Brother. I only wish for your happiness but you seem to be content stewing in your self-inflicted pain." 

The sound of your pouting cry broke through their conversation, sending the God of Mischief striding out of his room and into the common area. 

"If you insist on loving her in secrecy, you're terrible at the secrecy, Brother," Thor commented, casually walking down the stairs to where you currently were. Oaf. "Lady Y/N, what ails you this fine morning? And is there anything I may do to help?"

"I can't find my mug. Obnoxiously pink with the words kindly fuck off on the side?" 

"Ah, yes. I do recall seeing your drink holder when our Captain instructed me to unload our dishwasher."

"Thor." Your tone was laced with a threatening aura. "Please tell me you didn't put it on the top shelf."

"I may have," he answered you with a hint of caution in his voice. The scene unfolding before him made Loki chuckle to himself. The formidable God of Thunder being threatened by a significantly smaller Midgardian, the very same one that he wanted nothing more than to lift into his arms and claim as his own. 

You groaned again. "I am this close to climbing up on the stovetop and getting it myself, dammit, Thor." 

"You'll injure yourself, darling," the raven-haired god warned as he walked toward you. "If you require assistance, you simply need ask." 

"Okay I am too hungover to even begin to fathom what's happening. You two? Eye fucking? After I could swear on my drunken ass I saw you kiss at midnight?" Your eyes widened at Stark's words. "Is that why you're in such a good mood, Y/N? Even though you're pissed at Point Break right now, I can see it. You're…less depressing. I can actually look at you without wanting to wrap you in a blanket and give you a mug of hot chocolate—"

"Happy fucking New Year to you, too, Tony," you shot back. "The first slice of toast is yours if it means you shut your hole." The billionaire gave you a sloppy salute. "And whatever the question you were trying to ask was? About me and Loki? No, Tony."

"But you definitely got some," Romanoff chimed in from the stairs. "I know you too well, babes. You have a glow about you."

"Ahh that's our girl," Stark said in an all too chipper tone, holding out a fist your way. You threw him a look and shook your head at him. "Whatever. At least you got laid. I mean, you did get laid, right? You wouldn't get that glow if you got none."

Stark's line of questioning didn't sit right with Loki. Was that what he heard when your door opened and closed twice throughout the night? You had a tryst with someone? The way you answered with a shrug and a coy smile made his heart plummet once more. Was the lack of confirmation and denial an indicator of the affirmative? 

"Let's just say I finally found an outlet," you addressed the two prying team members. "Whether it be something or someone…is my business. And mine alone." Then you turned back to face Loki with wide eyes that almost reminded him of a puppy. "I require assistance. Please." 

When you looked up at him like that it was all he could do to not give in, but a part of him wanted to alleviate the sour mood that your conversation with Romanoff and Stark had put him in, so he decided to have a bit of fun with you. He could have so easily reached the top shelf and handed you your mug; instead he held out his arms toward you. "Come on, then."

You eyed him with incredulity. "So you don't want me to climb the stovetop—"

"This is safer, darling, I promise you."

"Go ahead, babes, climb him," Romanoff quipped from her position at the kitchen island. "Safer than the stovetop."

You glared at the god. "You know that I will, don't you?"

Oh I'm counting on it, he thought to himself, smiling as he watched you shrug and step toward him, bracing your hands on his shoulders as he lifted you up. He shifted you in his arms, the sudden motion causing you to wrap your legs around him, giving the dark-haired Asgardian a delicious glimpse of what your life could be like had you been his. 

You reached out and took your mug. "Thanks, Mischief. You can put me down now."

Instead of heeding your words, he held you up by a single arm as he used his free hand to take the mug from you and gently set it down on the counter. "You're very welcome, darling. But no. No I don't think I will." 

"Wait. What do you mean no?" 

He shifted you in his arm once more, causing you to wrap your arms around him a bit tighter and making him chuckle. "I quite like you this way, my dear Y/N." 

"Loki, I'm serious, put me down." The laughter threatening to bubble out of you betrayed your words; you were not, in fact, serious. Not yet anyway. "You can't just lug me around in your arm all day like a weird captive koala." 

"Why ever not?" He placed his free hand on your back, keeping you stable. "Seems like an interesting endeavor. It would also mean you're mine for the day." 

You huffed in a show of annoyance. "Alam mo pag minsan nakaka-torete ka talaga." 

He chuckled at your words. "You are aware, little mortal, that I am more than capable of understanding what you just said to me--"

"Yeah yeah I know, thanks to your Allspeak," you cut him off, rolling your eyes. "Sometimes it's still better to tell you how fucking annoying you are in my mother tongue." 

"Has anyone ever told you how ravishing you look when you're cross?"

"Mischief, I swear to the God that we don't believe in I will happily break my hand punching your face if you don't put me down right now and I will have no regrets over it." That stilled the god in his tracks and made him release you from his hold. Once your feet were back on solid ground, you gave him a big smile. "Thank you!" 

As you walked away from him, Loki couldn't help but look at you with fondness. You would surely be the death of him, being the little minx that you were. He had to stop himself from blurting out the words at the tip of his tongue after your little exchange. I love you. 

And then the words from earlier began to sunk in. The possibility that you'd taken a lover last night, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Was he still in your chambers? Did you view your previous exchange as nothing but a bit of fun? Was engaging in such banter such a natural thing for you that you thought nothing of it? 

The moment your feet landed on the ground, you turned around and busied yourself with breakfast for the team, deciding on a crustless quiche so you could at least keep your hands busy for a good while and turn your mind off, because it was going all over the place with what just happened. 

As you moved around the kitchen, Loki's words kept on replaying in your head. I quite like you this way. You're mine. Did he really know and he was just trying to see how little effort from him it would take to get you flustered? Was this all a game to him? Was--

"Y/N, if you keep cutting like that we're gonna need Banner to reattach your fingertips," Nat commented from the kitchen island. You looked down and your eyes widened at how dangerously close the knife was to your skin. "You might need another hit of that outlet, whatever it may be. You're still a bit spaced out." 

"And you're still a bit hung over," you bit back. 

"Speaking of hungover," Wanda called out as she descended the stairs. "Why aren't you, Y/N? You drank nearly as much as me and Natasha." 

"I made a plate of pasta last night when the party wrapped up," you answered. "I know  better than to go to sleep drunk. Should've dragged your asses out here with me, I guess." 

"Ohh. That's what I heard when your door opened!" Nat commented, realization dawning on her face. "But yes, next time we're drunk, remember us when you're carbo loading?" You nodded. "You're the best, babes." 

Had you been paying attention to what was happening around your conversation, you would've heard Loki murmur 'Thank the Norns' once he realized that the sound of your door in the early hours of the morning did not come from a lover sneaking out of your chambers. 

"Hi, everybody. Happy New Year!" Peter chirped from the stairs. The team murmured their greetings. "Miss Y/N, was I seeing things at midnight or did you and Mister Loki kiss?" You nodded your answer. "So you two? Finally?" Finally? You had to ask yourself if you saw the spiderling drink anything from the bar last night, narrowing your eyes at him as you shook your head. "Oh." 

"Hold on, that kiss lasted for a literal second, Parker. What did you do at the stroke of midnight that you saw that?"

The kid looked down at the ground as he mumbled, "I jumped." 

You had to put the knife down on the counter before you doubled over in laughter. Yeah. That sounded about right. 

A/N: Heaven help these fools they're so in love--

Translations: Alam mo pag minsan nakaka-torete ka talaga – You know sometimes you really drive me crazy Song Lyrics Translation here

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston

secret notes: @taro-gabi @kats72 @rmoonstoner @moonlightreader649 @loz-3 @beata1108 @fandumbug @crystaldragonborne @goblinhobo @nataliewalker93 @highkeysimpingforloki @constablewafflebottom @gracecaldwellx

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #muddyorbs writes

[nostalgia-tblr]

The thing is, see, some people are very into that ending because "omg god of stories!!11!" which I'll grant is a cool concept but

as with so many other things in S2 this is a case of fandom explaining something to each other that is not actually what we saw. I mean to me it looks like the lad's just stuck on a chair holding some string for all eternity, not actually doing anything other than gazing at his friends from a distance. Which is horrible! I hate it, that's so depressing!

But like. There's so many things we keep asking each other about and the answer is just a headcanon we came up with to cover the gaping holes in the actual story. They didn't even bother to explain why Loki started time-slipping in the first place, but you can bet on a confident answer if you ask the right viewer. There was a lot of stuff that just happens and then either doesn't get explained or simply vanishes from the story or both. WTF was going on with Brad & Dox? Why did Ravonna pop up at the end and do nothing?

And why - this is my main bitterness cos My Fave - was Sylvie sidelined all season, suddenly demoted to some sort is-she-isn't-she motivation to make Loki feel sad and become a tree? And even that's mostly relying on stuff from the previous season, since they barely had a proper conversation at all. And when we go back to the citadel HWR has suddenly lost interest in Sylvie other than whether she'll kill him, because oh apparently it's just the man one who was important all along, let's freeze the woman in the background so she doesn't get in the way of our man-to-man discussion of serious topics with her silly murderous rage. The romance angle is reduced but not actually removed, in a way that means Sylvie has to just sort of hang around while plot happens, appearing once an episode and then pissing off again ASAP because oh no we might have to mention the kissing thing one way or the other.

Also: no Alligator Loki. Which I say as a joke but also I mean it, because the variants stuff was one of the bits I was really into and that entire concept was just not mentioned this time. Also apparently you can't really escape your destiny, your worst fears will become real but it's okay because you can watch your former friends live without you while you're stuck on a chair forever??? Whut?? That's a cruel ending, yet apparently it's popular because... power-up? Apparently? But I'd only know that if I was into comics and was willing to just fill the gaps in a specific way.

So like. I am not what you'd call enthused. What a fucking miserable ending!

#loki spoilers #loki series negativity #i am become hater bringer of hate lol #loki season 2 #i think mobius was quite short-changed too btw but he was never a fave so i mind less (sorry)

[callunavulgari]

Year in Fic | 2023

How many fics did you write this year? What was your total wordcount?

This was a very, very depressing year for me fic-wise. I didn't think it was possible, but not only did I write less that I did last year, but I wrote SIGNIFICANTLY less than I did in 2022.

In 2023 I wrote 11 fics, for a total of 39,450 words. Which is uh, almost half what I did in 2022. And 2022 was a slow year for me. But! I will give myself a bit of grace considering I spent most of the year being neurotic about wedding planning.

Fic Roundup!

so damn sloppy | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 4,557 words | Steve smiles, leaning forward just a little bit, and is rewarded by the sight of Eddie swaying towards him as if hypnotized. “We gonna stop pretending that I’m here just for a movie?”

into the unknown | LoZ | Zelda/Ganondorf/Link | 8,017 words |  “What do you think, princess?” Ganondorf asks, cocking his head. “Would having your young knight here with us make the marriage bed more palatable?”

just a little bit closer, baby | Stranger Things | Chrissy/Eddie/Steve | 2,734 words | “He’s sure, Chrissy,” Steve says, voice warm.

Ghost Story | Stranger Things | Eddie/Steve | 2,559 words | Eddie wakes to darkness. 

mommy don’t know daddy’s getting hot | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 1,611 words |  “Just— Christ, Steve. Fuck me, already. Fill me up, put a baby in me or whatever weird hetero bullshit your brain has a boner for, just do it.”

the icarus to your certainty | Marvel | Loki/Thor | 1,687 words | “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?” Loki asks softly, his mouth twisted into a strange, sad little smile.

build your altar here | Star Wars | Reylo | 5,486 words |  When Leia had first offered up Ben’s condo as a place for Rey to stay while she got back on her feet, she’d foolishly assumed that it was some kind of subletting situation.

for years or for hours | Loki | Loki/Mobius | 1,677 words | “What the shit are you doing?” Mobius hisses, and Loki— Loki is tired.

touch-a, touch-a, touch-a, touch me | Stranger Things | Steve/Eddie | 2220 words | “God,” Steve murmurs into Eddie’s mouth. “You look— I cannot deal with how you look right now.”

these, our bodies, possessed by light | Shades of Magic | Holland/Kell/Lila, Athos/Holland | 2,134 words | Holland tells her simply. “I want to go home.”

this house says your name like an elegy | The Untamed | Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang | 6768 words | “Good night, ghost,” he says. “We can play tomorrow.”

Best story I wrote this year:

In my opinion? into the unknown was the only fic that I was TRULY proud of this year. Which isn't to say that the others were awful, but into the unknown was my passion project of the year. I saw a thing on twitter that made my brain go ping, and I sat down and said, yknow what, I'm going to write political marriage Ganondorf/Zelda. And then, I went, yknow what would be great? If we added Link, poly, and a great heaping pile of yearning. And it was! Great that is! It was fun to write and I'm really glad that I put it out there.

What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.

Honestly, into the unknown IS probably my favorite - BUT! A very close second is for years or for hours, which I wrote after watching the Loki finale a totally chill amount of times. I couldn't get over the idea of Loki and those timeloops, how lonely it must have been. How he could technically have everything that he wanted and then wipe the slate clean again hours later. I was also planning on writing another Loki fic, one where Sylvie and Mobius end up hooking up and living? traveling? together AFTER, but it just hasn't happened yet. Two people fucking because they're yearning for the same third is just catnip to me.

Okay, NOW your most popular story.

This is actually interesting because my stats are pretty wildly different for kudos vs hits. Normally they're at least in the same ballpark. BUT! for years or for hours was definitely my top fic as far as kudos go by a pretty wide margin, coming in 742 kudos, 217 bookmarks, and 2,397 hits. so damn sloppy (a title that i hated IMMEDIATELY after posting) comes in second when it comes to kudos at 239.

But! If you measure by hits- build your altar here, otherwise known as the excessively smutty reylo fic that i wrote actually comes in first. Which is... weird? But hey, what do I know. Numbers are bonkers.

Story of mine most underappreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

While I'm honestly always a little disappointed by the traffic my SXX Exchange and Yuletide fics get (I get it, they don't show up at the top of the page because they spend weeks unviewable before being revealed), I think my actual answer to this question is Ghost Story. It's one of the shorts that I did for my October challenge this year. 2.5k of Eddie waking up in the Upside Down undead, of him finding Steve's house and hesitating there on the threshold, of Vecna in his head, of him CHOOSING Kas as his own storyline, grasping at straws in the hopes that he'll be able to pull it off. I never go into something expecting kudos because that way lies madness, but I got... 11 kudos. No comments. And I don't know, that's always at least a little disappointing, but especially because I was proud of this one. I liked getting into Eddie's headspace in a horror setting. It was great! It was tragic! And I don't know, it just didn't get love. Such is life.

Most fun story to write:

Okay, so like. I wrote A LOT of smut this year. Almost every single fic that I wrote was either PWP, fix-it, or both. And almost every single one of them came easily (ha). The plot bunnies didn't fight me, they just happened. Which means that a lot of them were fun to write! The one where I got to work in Steve's breeding kink in the most hilarious way cracked me up. BUT! I got to write Steve/Chrissy/Eddie this year! I've been wanting to write it for ages and this year, for the first day of kinktober, I got to write Chrissy pegging Eddie while Steve fucks his face. That was just... an absolute dream.

Story that could have been better?

Maybe these, our bodies, possessed by light ? My Yuletide recipient's requests were of a crueltide variety. And I don't necessarily have an issue with writing that. I wrote it and I liked the end result, but where it comes down to it I'm still pretty uncomfortable writing non-con, even a character that is slowly healing from it. I do actually like how it ended. I think I conveyed what I wanted it to, the style was exactly what I was aiming for, I just haven't been able to shake the feeling that it could have been more. But if I'd made it happier or longer, I think I would have taken away from the point I was trying to make.

Story I wrote to fix things:

Definitely the icarus to your certainty. Some of the others are fix-its in the sense that certain characters are alive, others are fix-it fic not because they changed anything about the canon but because of the sense of catharsis. But the icarus to your certainty was a fic that I've been wanting to write for a while, one where Thor and Loki meet again. I've told this story a couple different ways since End Game, but this one feels more complete because I used TVA Loki. It wasn't just me talking out of my ass about suspected ways that Marvel could fix it, it was about the exisiting character meeting back up with a post-Love and Thunder Thor and going hey, I'm here, I'm not the same brother you watched die, but I'm still a Loki, I still miss you, I know what you lost. I did write it before watching the finale, so there's probably at least one more Thor and Loki reunion fic in me, but we'll see.

Longest completed fic this year:

into the unknown was my longest this year at just over 8k.

Fandom you enjoyed writing for most this year:

The fandom that I wrote the MOST of was Stranger Things, because Steddie is still dogging me even now, more than a year later. And it is certainly the fandom that I enjoyed reading the most, but I also really loved playing in the Tears of the Kingdom sandbox.

Favorite character you wrote this year:

I did like writing Ganondorf in into the unknown a lot, but this pleasure has to go to Eddie. He's just so fun.

Most memorable comment(s) this year:

I really loved all the comments that I got on for years and for hours! The comments from my recipients for the SXX exchange and Yuletide were amazing! I got a comment on the Silena and Clarisse fic that I wrote well over a decade ago! I got an adorable comment on the monsterfucking fishsex one earnestly telling me to keep doing what makes me passionate, even if it's... yknow, fishsex.

But honestly, this comment that I got on Rubatosis takes the cake. It just completely blows my mind that even know, almost a decade after I wrote the fic, I am STILL getting comments on it. And not just the comments that other older fic of mine get, but comments that are so heartwrenchingly genuine, thanking me, weeping and happy about it. I actually did a reread of it after I got this comment and while I can see all the places that could be improved on, I'm just still so floored, so PROUD, that it's something that came out of my brain.

Fics you wanted to write but didn’t:

I DO have an entire graveyard of fics in my googledocs that I've started and haven't finished but, in no particular order:

the steddie one where they hook up pre-series when steve is still king steve and eddie is dealing at one of his parties

the steddie hitchhiking one

the steddie coffee shop one that no one asked for

the gloryhole steddie fic from kinktober

ugh the akuroku farmer's market one about being punk and then getting older

the bodyswap geraskier one

the ust filled one-shot of Jericho and Sam Lloyd from the Diviners

the random plot bunny i got after reading hell bent where i wanted to write alex fucking darlington after the howling

the cnc sxx fic

the uh, vaguely necrophiliac sxx one because xue yang is a freak

the *cough* incest ship one where they find out they're related while fucking and neither stops (i may have entertained this as a han/luke/leia one-shot)

the alex/jonas oxenfree one that i wanted to write as a yuletide treat

the anastasia/dimitri one that i wanted to write as a yuletide treat

Oddest story:

god, probably the breeding kink one. mommy don't know daddy's getting hot. it's not even super intense! i just feel like eddie would be absolutely IMPOSSIBLE if he found out that steve had a breeding kink.

Hardest story to do:

I did fret about this house says your name like an elegy a little. I kept getting stuck describing the house and had to force myself past it.

Easiest story to write?

Again, most of the fics came pretty easily this year. build your altar here may have been the easiest? I'd just finished love theoretically by ali hazelwood and while i'd always known they were a reylo i didn't realize that i'd actually read some of their fic! anyway, read a couple reylo fics for nostalgia and then realized that i wanted to write a free use fic. All 5k of it came out in one sitting, it was nuts.

Most mining of your own history in one story:

I don't think any of them? I mean, maybe so damn sloppy if you count the fact that i've actually been in a family video before, but other than that? yeah, nothing.

Themes, or absence thereof:

A lot of smut, tbh.

Where did you publish/archive your stories?

Ao3, as per usual. I didn’t crosspost too much this year.

Story I haven’t yet written, but intend to:

i REALLY want to write the steddie ones that i didn't write this year, specifically the hitchiking and the pre-series one.

Sexiest moment (excerpt):

He fucks Eddie breathless. The corset isn’t helping, the pearls like a collar around his throat. He wants Steve’s hand in his hair, wants to be fucked until it hurts, but Steve is so gentle with him. 

There are tears in Eddie’s eyes when he finally surrenders, gasps quietly into the dark and says, “Please, harder.”

Steve doesn’t get a hand into his hair, but he does splay his palm out over the curve of Eddie’s throat, just under the pearls. The hold isn’t a tight one, his fingers loose enough that Eddie could slide right out of the grip if he wanted, but Eddie sobs a little, bucking up, wanting wanting wanting—

Steve fucks him harder. 

.

“Would you like to have him first, then?” Ganondorf asks her, a low whisper in her ear, and her legs clench tight around him, making them both groan as his cock jostles between them. 

“Please,” she says, and he makes a sound like a laugh, and pulls back, away, moving them so that he’s propped up against her headboard and she’s reclined against his front, her back hot where their skin touches.

Ganondorf makes an amused sound when Link hesitates, and his hands take hold of her hips and — mortifyingly — spread her legs open.

“Do you need me to tell you where it goes?” Ganondorf asks, almost conversationally, and Link narrows his eyes. 

It’s not— there was a moment, when she was younger, when she’d thought of this. Of what would happen if she could just take what she wanted. If she could have Link on his back in the hay of the palace stable or if he’d ever bear her down into the fragrant grass of Hyrule Field.

It was a silly dream. A girl’s dream. She’d never imagined this, her husband holding her open as Link pushes into her, but perhaps that was a good thing. She’d been an excitable girl.

He makes a noise when he first pushes into her that she’ll remember forever, even if they never get to do this again — a slight hitch in his breathing, like a hiccup, then a moan so soft it’s almost a whine. They are green, untested, so very new to this. She’s wanted this for so long and so hard that it doesn't even hurt. The rhythm is rocky and awkward when they start, but Ganondorf helps them find it quickly, his hands reaching out to steady Link's hips, coaxing him into a better pace.

It is perfect, even if it wasn’t what she’d dreamed. She gets to bury her face in his neck the way she’d wanted then, gets to hitch her legs up around his hips and clench him tighter, deeper, his fingers threaded with hers.

But it is over too fast, and her eyes are wet when he goes still inside of her. It’s too much. It’s not enough. 

Ganondorf gives them a minute, lets her shake, lets Link breathe. She hadn’t expected patience from him, but then, there’s a great many things about this night that she hadn’t expected.

“Okay,” she tells him when Link is collapsed backwards beside them, watching with hazy eyes as Ganondorf turns her to face him. His cock is between them, hard against her belly, and it’s so big that for a moment, she wonders if she’s ready for it. She can feel Link’s spend licking the insides of her thighs and knows that Ganondorf can feel it too. 

She looks at Ganondorf, chin held high, and says, “I’m ready.”

He is big.

His cock inside of her is such a tight fit that her breathing goes ragged as he’s fitting it into her. She’s sweating all over and it’s so much that she worries it will break her, that she’ll never be the same again. Link had felt good inside of her, a perfect fit, no pain, just frissons of pleasure up and down her spine as he moved inside of her, but this — this is nearly too much.

“It’s okay, princess,” Ganondorf tells her, petting her back once he’s completely inside. “You did good.”

.

Against all odds, the noise is what wakes her. She would have thought— well, she would have thought that she’d have woken to other things. The gentle rocking of the bed. The weight on her hips. Rey had assumed that if anything were to wake her, it would have been that first slow press inside her — her body yielding slowly to the blunt press of him between her legs. 

However it happened, the noise is what wakes her. She surfaces slowly, first latching onto the sound of the rhythmic thumping of the headboard striking the wall over and over again before her brain wakes enough to take note of the rest of it. 

She’s warm, that’s the second thing that she notices. Most of the time, Rey wakes with her fingers and toes freezing, and she’ll have to spend the first thirty minutes of her morning huddling for warmth beneath her blankets. This morning though, she’s overly warm, her blood already running hot, her chest and belly slick with sweat.

That’s when the rest of the details come to her. The heavy breathing above her. The warm sticky skin pressed to the bare stretch of her back. The creaking of the bed. Her own shallow breathing, little noises escaping her even as her brain comes fully back online. And of course, the feeling of a cock stretching her wide. She must have been wet, she thinks hazily, still halfway between waking and dreaming. Had she been dreaming? Or had he put his mouth on her before he’d bullied his way inside? They hadn’t really discussed the mechanics beforehand, only their wants and limitations. She’d wanted this, she remembered confessing. This specific thing, mentioned in the late hours of the night, her face flushed.

But he’d done it. She hadn’t thought that he would.

She’s still sluggish, but her body is already lighting up from the touch. Already awake and responsive, even as Rey starts to slowly stretch, her toes curling against the sheets as her palms scrabble for a grip to ground her. Ben rocks into her again, a particularly deep thrust, and a noise punches out of her, shocked and urgent.

She hears a chuckle from above her, and then his mouth is dropping to press against the sharp blade of her shoulder, lips dragging indulgently across her skin.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his own voice gritty with sleep. She whines under him, her fist finally getting a hold on the sheets, and he laughs at her openly, rewarding her with a particularly ruthless grind of his hips, pressing so deep that she rocks forward into the pillows.

He works a hand into her hair, and she’s— god, it’s so much so fast that she’s actually dizzy from it, so when he drags her up to her knees, she’s reeling, wobbly like a newborn animal. Her breath catches in her throat, her stomach tensing as he slides his palm down to cradle the shallow dip of her pelvis.

She doesn’t have to enjoy it, that wasn’t part of the bargain. The deal was anytime, anywhere— within reason, of course. She’d thrilled at the idea of it, imagining him bending her over the back of the couch, over the kitchen counter, imagined crawling into his lap during one of his shitty zoom calls and having him like that, where any one of his sleazy corporate overlords could hear her panting for him if he decided to unmute them.

She hadn’t thought that this would be his first move on the chessboard, that less than 24 hours after shaking on it she would wake to him inside of her, stretching her wide, the very first thing that she’d told him she wanted.

Anything, though. And just because she hadn’t imagined this happening the morning after they discussed it does not mean that she can’t enjoy it. 

He fucks her hard and fast after that, as if her coming awake beneath him has made him desperate for it. Her scalp aches under his grip, but the pull is a good one. She’s wet and aching, his cock so good, pressing so deep— she’d forgotten what it was like, what he could be like. 

She makes a noise, something quiet and pleased, and he must like it because he moans for her, his grip turning harsher, his thrusts more punishing. She wants to ask him for it, wants to tell him harder, but he hasn’t said that she can talk yet, so she bites her lip and holds on for dear life.

He comes inside her, letting out a long and guttural groan, his hips pressed flush against hers.

She’s trembling and she doesn’t want him to pull out yet, wants to come with him still inside her, but doesn’t—

“Touch yourself,” he tells her, his voice strained, cock still buried to the hilt inside her. She lets out a breathless little sob, already reaching, and it barely takes more than the press of her thumb to her clit before she’s coming, so hard that knees go out from under her. She bites down hard on her pillow to muffle the helpless little keen that makes its way out of her. 

Crackiest moment (excerpt):

Eddie is giving him shit when it happens. It’s been a little over a half hour since Eddie turned to him, bored and pouty about it, and asked if Steve wanted to fuck him.

“Obviously,” Steve could pretend that he’d replied, because that was smooth and cool, and not the reality of the weird grunting noise that he’d made in response, as if his brain had briefly forgotten that it was human and not still ape.

Eddie had snorted, but forgiven him this, and Steve had gone to work dutifully, because the reality of getting to fuck Eddie was still new and visceral. But then here they are, well past foreplay, and Eddie is giving him shit, cracking jokes, and Steve is still somehow completely hard. Which is to say, Steve is buried all the way inside of Eddie, balls flush against his sweaty ass, and absolutely breathless with laughter, trying to muffle the sound of it into Eddie’s shoulder when Eddie throws his head back theatrically and moans, “Yes, daddy, yes. Harder, please. Yes, Steve, put a baby in me already.”

And it’s—

He’s joking. Neither of them ever get even close to brushing against their mutual daddy issues. It’s a joke, the same way that the theatrical porn star moans he’s been driving Steve crazy with for the last half hour have been a joke. The same way that his nicknames getting more and more absurd every month is a joke. 

But Steve’s breath — it catches. He’d been halfway through another shaky thrust, tears still in his eyes, and then, at Eddie’s words, his movement stutters. He doesn’t quite gasp, but his exhale comes out shaky, a nervous huff of a noise.

Eddie goes still under him. He twists, peering around his own shoulder at Steve, his eyes wide and dark. He blinks and asks, “Really?”

.

“Fuck,” Eddie says again, voice thready. Steve tugs on his hair again, just enough to hear him hiss. “Just— Christ, Steve. Fuck me, already. Fill me up, put a baby in me or whatever weird hetero bullshit your brain has a boner for, just do it.”

Steve’s breath catches, his brain abruptly knocked offline. He doesn’t— later, he’ll try to wrap his brain around why this works for him. Try to figure out whether it’s the daddy issues, the unspoken desire for a kid, or just the idea of filling Eddie up with his come, but in this moment, the only thing that he can think of is those words in Eddie’s mouth, the reality of what he’s about to do. 

Steve’s a good, smart boy. Smart about this, at least. He likes to have sex. He’s safe about having sex. Even with Nancy, he’d never—

He fucks Eddie until he’s wailing, working his way up from the slow grind. Short, slow strokes, hard and deep. Harder, a little faster. It’s so much harder to fuck Eddie right like this, but it’s so intimate, tucked so tightly together that he can’t make himself move.

“Please,” Eddie is saying, and Steve isn’t even sure if Eddie’s aware that he’s talking out loud. He’s got his head buried in his arms, his body rocking forward every time Steve fucks into him, and his voice is throaty, his body shaking with every thrust.

“Please Steve,” he gasps, breathless, sweaty. He lets out an uneven moan at Steve’s next thrust, hard and deep, just the way Eddie likes it. “Do it, just do it, pump me full of your come, do it, please.”

Favorite dialogue (excerpt):

“Good morning, Princess,” Ganondorf tells her, still smiling. “That isn’t your usual guard.”

“No,” she tells him, and leaves it at that.

He hums thoughtfully, his eyes going to the guard again, and for a moment, she thinks that he may press the matter, as if it’s any of his business where Link may be, but after another moment, he drops it, leaving it with a polite nod.

They watch the birds in silence for some time. 

Ganondorf, as it turns out, has a bag of feed with him, which he offers her when the robins have finished what's on the ground and turn to eye them expectantly.

She dips her hand into the bag, delighting in the cool press of seeds against her knuckles, and comes out with a palmful, which she gently tosses to the grateful birds. As she watches, a few more descend.

“Do you come to this spot often?” Ganondorf asks as she brushes the lingering kernels from her hands.

She looks at him, wondering if she should say. If he does mean her harm, this place that she only comes to when she means to be alone would be a delightful place for any would-be kidnapper. But, on the other hand, if he is to be her husband, he will learn soon enough.

“Yes,” she tells him, reaching to brush her knuckles across the rose nearest her, the last few drops of morning dew clinging to the downy softness of its petals. “I love this place.”

“It is lovely,” he says. “Quiet, peaceful. I was happy to find a place to myself.”

She turns to look at him, curious despite herself. “Do you have a place like it? Back home?”

Ganondorf is still watching the birds, but as she speaks, he turns to her, his expression soft. 

“I do,” he says, sounding pleased. “We have orange trees growing in what passes for our garden. They grow in a small alcove tucked away from prying eyes. There’s a fountain there. It’s peaceful.” He seems to hesitate, then adds, “They smell divine when they’re in bloom. Perhaps one day I can show you.”

“Perhaps,” she replies, for politeness sake. She is her father’s only heir. He would never let her venture out into the desert, not even if she had all the guards in Hyrule with her. 

Perhaps, she thinks, when she is queen. If her husband has not attempted a coup by then.

They have drawn an entire flock by now, not only robins, but jays and turtle doves. They bicker amongst themselves for the seed, their chatter light and easy. She only wishes that her entire day could be this quiet.

“Are you looking forward to the feast tonight?” she asks, only half listening as she watches one of the larger jays wallop one of the doves with its wing.

“I never look forward to feasts,” Ganondorf tells her gravely, which surprises her enough that she lets out a sharp bark of laughter.

When she’s done laughing, she looks at him, tears in her eyes, and confesses, “Neither do I.”

.

“Looking for your knight, princess?” Ganondorf whispers out of the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t duck his head towards her, but there’s a barely noticeable tilt to his head that means he wants to, that he wants his lips pressed right up against her ear, where he can speak truly to only her. The whisper, she thinks, will have to suffice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers back, her eyes finding Link’s even as the words leave her mouth. He is watching them, but there’s a faint crack in his mask, a flash of pain bare on his face for all of Hyrule to see before he catches her looking and schools it into careful blankness once more.

Ganondorf chuckles, a warm rumble that she can feel through her entire body, from head to toes.

“Of course, you don’t,” he tells her, something faintly mocking in his voice. It makes her hackles go up, spine straightening as she lifts her head to look at him.

He is looking down at her now, and on his lips is a smile that she hasn’t seen from him yet. It isn’t the soft private smile from this morning, nor is it the polite smile that he gives her father and the rest of court. This is a strange smile, just for her, and it appears entirely genuine. 

“Are you mocking me, sir?” she asks him.

“Perhaps,” he tells her, unexpectedly lifting her into a spin. She reels, a bit dizzy when he sets her back onto her feet. He smiles again, as if he’s laughing at her, and ducks his head to whisper in her ear, “Is it working?”

She blinks hard, finding Link over his shoulder again.

“Is what working?” she asks breathlessly.

She can feel his smile against her ear, the feel of it curving upwards. She shivers.

His lips move against her ear, his breath warm against her throat. “Am I making him jealous?”

She flinches. Not hard, but just enough to make her misstep. She corrects herself, but people have already seen.

There will be whispers. Rumors.

She huffs, and looks away from him, careful to keep her gaze away from Link.

“I told you,” she says coolly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughs again, but obligingly straightens, taking his mouth far out of her reach.

They dance in silence until the music stops.

Favorite lines (excerpt):

“You can, you know,” Mobius tells him, and Loki wants to ask what, wants to ask if that’s freestanding permission— to take anything he wants, anything he needs. 

“Can I?” Loki asks, his voice a rasp in the dark.

Mobius nods, his nose sliding against Loki’s. He’s holding his breath, Loki thinks, and that won’t do. Loki needs him to breathe. 

He kisses him. 

Mobius makes a thin noise, like he hadn’t really expected Loki to do it, then something heavier as his mouth slides open under Loki’s. 

Loki reaches, curling his fingers against Mobius’s cheek, pulling him closer, until they’re almost on top of one another. Loki wants— he wants a great many things. He wants to kiss Mobius until his breathing goes erratic. Wants to crawl backwards onto the desk and let Mobius have him there, just like this. Wants to touch him all over, map out every square inch of his body until Loki knows every whorl of hair, every wayward freckle.

“Mm,” Mobius hums as Loki breaks the kiss. Their lips make a wet sound as they separate. The sound of it is thrilling. It makes him want more. Mobius clearly is on the same page, his eyes flickering open slowly, watching Loki through slitted eyes. As Loki watches, he smiles and asks, “Feel better?”

He does, actually. 

The panic is ebbing, his heart regaining its normal rhythm, his vision no longer tunneling. He doesn’t feel as out of control now, like time itself is slipping away from him.

Loki licks his lips, ignoring the way that Mobius’ eyes linger on his mouth, and nods. He leans in for another kiss, this one shorter. He is very aware of the light of the loom, going ever brighter outside the window. Not long now.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mobius tells him, leaning smugly back against the computers when Loki has finished with him. He looks rumpled. His hair askew, his lips bruised. Loki wants to wreck him.

“Don’t worry about what?” Loki asks, distracted. 

Mobius jerks his head towards the loom, the timelines, the constant writhe of them against the blackness of the void. “That. Don't worry. You’ll get it right next time.”

Loki hisses, his head jerking up. He meets Mobius’ laughing eyes. Says, “When did you figure it out?”

Mobius shrugs, flashing Loki a look. “You didn’t get that good at physics overnight, Loki. Come on. How long have you been at this?”

Loki doesn’t know. Not really. He’s lost count. Lost count quickly even. “Too long.”

Mobius eyes him. He’s still reclined back against the computers, his elbows planted firmly under him, legs slightly splayed. Loki can see the length of him, hard in his slacks. It’s tempting. He is tempting. If they had more time, then maybe—

Mobius is still watching him, like he can see Loki's every thought printed out and set before him in real time. Who knows, maybe he can. 

“Next time,” Mobius tells him, like a promise. 

The light outside the window is growing brighter, the rattling of the entire structure around them getting louder.

Loki breathes. 

“You won’t remember,” Loki says, feeling a tug of… something at that. Hurt, maybe. Grief, perhaps— for this version of Mobius that his hands have touched, this version who won’t exist five minutes from now.

“Maybe not,” Mobius tells him with an unconcerned shrug. “But I can promise you I’ll be receptive.”

Loki snorts. “That sure of yourself, are you?”

Mobius’ smile goes soft, secret. A little sad around the edges.

“With you?” he says. “Always.”

.

Ganondorf is enormous, well over seven feet tall and thick with heavy, corded muscle, the bulk of him great enough that in the months prior to his arrival, the castle staff had seriously considered widening several doorways around the castle. And while she is glad to know that he is able to fit through their doorways without issue, his size is… intimidating.

His hair is swept up into a glinting gold crown, the color a deep russet red that’s several shades darker than the rest of his kin. He's bare from the waist up, his naked torso heavily adorned, golden hoops in his ear lobes, a heavy looking necklace of gold and ruby draped around his throat, intricate designs swirling down to just above his navel. Delicate chains link the neck piece to golden cuffs squeezed tight around his biceps and then, even further down, another pair of arm guards that run from forearm to wrist. There is even, she realizes, her face going red, a pair of simple golden hoops through two brown nipples. They glint back at her in the afternoon light, mocking.

Zelda, who had missed the first of the introductions during her inspection of her betrothed, blinks hard, head jerking up when she hears her own name echoing through the chamber. She turns towards her father, who is looking back at her expectantly. She has no idea what he’s said, but she can guess. 

She clears her throat, stepping forward until she is at the very edge of the dais. Her eyes find Ganondorf’s. 

His eyes are warm. Gold. There’s intelligence there – slyness and cunning, yes – but even as the force of his gaze holds her in place, she recognizes something more there. A challenge. The potential for cruelty, perhaps. It will be a game, she thinks, looking at him. He will do his duty. He will wed her and unite their peoples, even swear fealty to Hyrule. And yet, she’s somehow sure that he will spend the rest of their lives testing her, looking for cracks in her armor, waiting and watching for a chance to usurp her throne.

She watches as he goes down to one knee before her, and finds her mouth wet as he reaches for her hand, saliva pooling against her tongue. Suddenly, she is very aware of everything. Her father beside her. Link at her back. Ganondorf’s kinsman watching her with a careful blankness masking their curiosity. There are wolves in the castle and they are hungry.

“Hello, Princess Zelda,” he says, mouth quirking upwards into something that’s more smirk than smile. His voice is warm, smooth like liquid honey. 

“Ganondorf,” she makes herself say, willing her voice not to waver as she gives an estimation of a curtsy. It isn’t quite proper, but it is within the polite boundaries of etiquette. No one will be able to fuss.

His smile grows as his gaze flicks over her right shoulder, to where she knows Link is standing. She cannot allow herself to look, but she can guess that Link is likely standing there, his face carefully blank, the perfect soldier. She wonders what drew Ganondorf’s attention – a tightening of Link’s fingers around the hilt of his sword? A flicker of an expression around his mouth?

Whatever it is, Link holds Ganondorf’s attention for several long moments. Zelda can feel her hand begin to sweat against Ganondorf’s palm and longs to withdraw it. Then, Ganondorf’s smile goes a touch crooked, showing teeth, and still holding Link’s gaze, he ducks and presses his lips to her knuckles. Only then does he return his gaze to hers.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Ganondorf tells her, releasing her hand at last. Zelda can feel the burn of his lips against her skin, warmth blossoming outwards, sending seeking tendrils crawling down her wrist. She has to fight the urge to hide her hand behind her skirts.

She swallows again and makes herself smile, even as a shiver runs through her. “The pleasure is all mine.”

.

A hand touches her elbow and she flinches, expecting Link, but when she turns, it’s Ganondorf. He’s looking at her seriously, his heavy brows knotted. There is no calculating or cruelty on that face, only understanding.

“Wife,” he says, and that’s a little stab of agony as well, knowing that it is done, knowing that she is as good as shackled to the man next to her. “We don’t have to do this tonight.”

Her head jerks up, mouth parting. She’d expected cruelty, she realizes, looking into his eyes. Never in her wildest imaginings had she thought that Ganondorf could be kind. 

It is a sweet offer, but a barbed one, as well. Even if she were to put the night off – how long would he wait? A week? A month? Years? What if she never wished to bed him? Would he allow that or would he go to her father and declare the marriage contract null. 

No, better to get this over with.

Zelda swallows and shakes her head. Her eyes go to Link, standing just to the left of Ganondorf. His face is like stone, still refusing to look at her. He will hold vigil, here at her door. He will… hear. She’s known that all along, but now, it’s like an arrow in her gut. She shouldn’t have kissed him. 

There’s a soft sound in the hallway, a quick inhalation, and her eyes go to Ganondorf, who is looking down at her with something like realization. A knowing. Even a soft smugness.

“Oh,” Ganondorf says, voice thick with understanding. Her heart drops as Ganondorf looks between them, face creased. “It is like that, then. I had wondered.”

Link doesn’t look up at either of them, his jaw merely tightening as he stands straight under Ganondorf’s gaze.

Ganondorf laughs, a soft thing, colored with amusement, as he leans back against the door to her rooms. Light from Zelda’s candle glints off of his crown, off of the plate of gold laid over his chest. He’s still looking between them. 

“Hm,” he says once he’s finished laughing, reaching for Zelda’s hand. She gives it to him, her heart hammering in her chest, and sucks in a quiet breath when he steps forward and gently draws her over the threshold to her rooms. He takes the candle from her, setting it into the waiting sconce, and looks back over his shoulder at Link, who is still stone-faced and silent at the door.

He quirks an eyebrow at him and says, “Well, aren’t you coming?”

Shock explodes across Link’s face, blue eyes going wide as a ruddy blush instantly colors his cheeks. His mouth drops, lips parting as a huff of surprise leaves him. He stares at Ganondorf, open-mouthed, the emotion bleeding back into him all at once. 

He glances towards Zelda, as if looking to confirm what he’d just heard.

Zelda, who finds that her mouth is also open, only shakes her head in disbelief. 

Link’s eyes go back to Ganondorf’s, only to dart away again, skittish.

Ganondorf chuckles again, stepping forward until he’s once again looming in the doorway. He cocks his head, as if curious, eyes running up and down Link’s body, heavy with intent.

“I will admit,” Ganondorf tells him, that same strange smile playing around his lips as he reaches out, brushing a wayward curl from Link’s face. “It’s been some time since I had a boy in my bed, but having the both of you won’t be such a hardship.”  

He casts a glance over his shoulder towards her even as his palm slides up to cup Link’s cheek, an almost proprietary grip, his thumb coming to rest at the corner of Link’s mouth. She’s shocked to realize that she wants to see what would happen if Link opened his mouth and sucked it in. 

Ganondorf must see something of her thoughts on her face, because he laughs again, louder, a rumble deep in his chest. 

“What do you think, princess?” Ganondorf asks, cocking his head. His smile is wide, knowing. “Would having your young knight here with us make the marriage bed more palatable?”

Fic goals:

No goals this year, I don't think. Only to write what I want to write. And as per my resolution, work on the original work as much as I can.

#heather says what #year in review #new year's memes #heather writes #2023

[onewomancitadel]

Saw someone else express my (apparently deeply unoriginal) sentiment that if living redemption enemies-to-lovers is so 'overdone', where is it, and the solitary response (in a populated interaction) was 'Loki/Sylvie' from the Loki television show. That was it.

Don't continue reading if you're a Loki/Sylvie fan lol. Not using an anti tag because people will be scouring those for different reasons from me lol.

I'm going to be a little mean and say that dynamic was made possible because a) Loki is the protagonist and no longer structurally an antagonist, b) there's kind of the implication that Loki is a narcissist going with the diva characterisation (I don't care how the pairing is actually characterised, it takes self-love way too far that it's not even a metaphor anymore, it's actually deeply depressing - the idea that the only person who can understand Loki is solely Loki is not the type of thing I enjoy at all; it literally the opposite of my ideal romance which is perhaps best expressed by For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known), and c) it's not even very good anyway.

To circle back around to the first point, the romance between two morally gray characters and a corrected antagonist/occasional ally to protagonist basically 'makes' the enemies-to-lovers romance okay; tonally it's the sort of thing we might expect for Loki (his romances can be complicated). Idk, it definitely doesn't scratch my itch for anything hero/villain related.

Notice how I didn't talk smack about M/arvel once! I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt for the sake of the argument even if they can never be truly radical.

By 'enemies' I don't just mean false tension or hatred; there actually has to be discord, enmity, and the general assumption one or the other will kill the other or will be killed by each other's sides. By 'redemption' I also don't mean 'mean man becomes soft/reveals he had a mean mummy or daddy who made him emotionally stunted so he was really good all along'-type reversion, but actual character change and coming to challenge their own worldview.

So some may say that these ideas are 'common' because weaker, improperly named and ill-defined versions of them persist, which are then used to argue why actual enemies-to-lovers ships and actual redemption are 'overdone' because they don't know what they're fucking talking about.

It really is damnably scarce out there. Like, actual paradigm shift stuff just almost doesn't exist.

#and btw the selfcest isn't 'incest'; it is really bizarre and literal self-love #in a way that makes loki look bad #I just didn't find the show very interesting. #on romance once again

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Marvel Characters As Out-Of-Context RP/RP Server/Murder Mystery Quotes, Part 6:

Yelena: Even in the sadness, the gay is strong.

Nat: Someone kill the small fucker

Wanda: She probably sensed that I was either talking about my lack of self-care or that I was hating myself again. Or both.

Tony: Oh.....I'm an idiot.

Vision: CHEWING GUM IS NOT WELCOME IN A SCHOOL ENVIRONMENT!

Steve: IT'S A CINEMATIC MASTERPIECE I COULDN'T NOT REFERENCE IT XD

Pietro: Why does the sim make me a flirt!?

Bruce: Science has also proven that I'm socially awkward.

Drax: ....His head was in the way of my statue.*glares in still frozen*

Gamora/Nebula: Okay, Mystic's not homicidal anymore, but.....

Peter P.: I guess some sponsors love NERDS.

Mantis: I'll just eat out in the cold or something. I dunno. Maybe it'll freeze my ugliness off.

Rocket: Good question. I'm still not quite sure how a piece of trash like me managed to do that.

Groot: She nods. *"I do the same thing. Sometimes I'll scream when I'm alone in a car. Do trees have anything like that? Like, to let any emotions out?"*

Captain Marvel: Oh my God, it's the lesbian!

Clint: He conjures up a bow and arrow glowing green.

Shuri: It's always time for memes!

T'Challa: No bitting kitties! That's my job!

Scott/Antman: He's shrinking into a pillowcase.

Loki: Dang it…Grandma Austin tricked me again.

Thor: I've heard ECT is supposed to be beneficial for some people with depression. Maybe I should just go get struck by lightning.

Bucky: Drinking out of a shoe is better than being dead....I guess.

Sam: That wasn't very cash money of that bird.

Peter Quill: Also ha-ha, fuck you CG.

Stephen Strange: You know, if you really ARE straight here, then there's a good chance that in the multiverse, there's one timeline where you're gay.

America: She looks like that guy from the pizza meme.

Wong: Wait can you all just be quiet for a SECOND?!

#yelena belova #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff #tony stark #Vision #Steve Rogers #pietro maximoff #bruce banner #drax #gamora #nebula #peter parker #mantis #rocket raccoon #groot #captain marvel #clint barton #shuri #t'challa #scott lang #loki mcu #thor odinson mcu #bucky barnes #sam wilson #peter quill #stephen strange #america chavez #wong #marvel cinematic universe #incorrect quotes

[cozy-the-overlord]

I posted 1,373 times in 2022

391 posts created (28%)

982 posts reblogged (72%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@cozy-the-overlord

@naterson

@gaitwae

@lokislittlesigyn

@elly-hiddlesherloki

I tagged 1,298 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#cozy reblog - 785 posts

#thanks for the ask :) - 167 posts

#writing things - 111 posts

#cozy writes - 108 posts

#taylor swift - 102 posts

#self reblog - 100 posts

#friends - 94 posts

#ask me things pls i'm bored - 86 posts

#loki marvel - 74 posts

#loki fanfic - 69 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#wasn’t going to reblog but then i read ‘now that larry looks to be on the horizon of replacing boris johnson as prime minister’ 😂😂😂😂😂

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Burning the Midnight Oil

Summary: You’re alone and miserable, up far too late losing your mind over an essay that isn’t even due tomorrow when Loki pops in with flowers.

Word Count: 1,858

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: So this is a reader fic, but also the reader is literally just me. I usually don’t like writing super obviously personal self-indulgent fluff, but I’ve had an incredibly shitty week and just ended up writing this in my notebook yesterday. This isn’t really edited, and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense (like ... don’t question how Loki ended up dating a random college student), but it was therapeutic to write and I figured I might as well post it. Also, the line Loki reads aloud is from Sonnet 29, a poem that has absolutely nothing to do thematically with this story, but it’s my favorite sonnet and I wanted Loki to read it to me so don’t judge.

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Implied depression

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Your back hurts.

Everything hurts, actually. These dorm-issued chairs are not designed with long-term comfort in mind, and you’ve been sitting here hunched at your desk for a while now, several hours at least. There had still been light streaming through your weather-beaten blinds when you first sat down to work, but the sun had long since faded beneath the horizon—in fact, if your roommate had been here, she probably would have asked you a while ago in her soft, amiable manner if it was okay if she turned off the big ceiling light, her polite way of telling you to get the fuck off your laptop and go to bed. But your roommate isn’t here—she’s staying over at her asshole damned-lucky-to-have-her boyfriend’s apartment, a last-minute decision that left you alone and unsupervised for the night.

You’re fine though. It’s good to have time to yourself. Hell, there was a time where the prospect of a night of solitude would send you jumping for joy. It’s just … well, you have a tendency of turning a vacant room into an echo chamber to your thoughts, and these days your thoughts haven’t exactly been the kind of thing you enjoy being alone with.

It doesn’t matter. Tonight, you’re fine—you have a distraction. This essay isn’t due until Friday, but you’ve determined to finish it tonight, and now you can’t go to bed until the final period has been typed. It’s a messy business, essay writing. All night, you’ve known nothing but the relentless back and forth between the brilliant spark of a fresh idea that leaves you feeling like a genius and the all-consuming urge to bash your laptop against the wall over and over and over again before you allow your professor to lay her eyes on the wretched piece. At the moment, you’re beginning to stumble back into the latter, but you force yourself to swallow your self-contempt and keep going. It doesn’t matter how awful it is, just that it’s finished. Then you can lie on your heating pad and fall asleep to the sound of a YouTube art video you’ve watched a million times before.

“What are you still doing up?”

You jump at the question, nearly knocking your computer from its precarious position perched on the edge of your desk. Loki reaches around you to steady it with one hand—the other is supporting a vase the size of your head blooming with vibrant daffodils.

“Forgive me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You let out a breath that’s shakier than you intended. One would think that after nearly a year of dating a literal magic extraterrestrial man of myth, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at his habit of just … appearing, but there are still times when it makes your heart race.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to drop these off. I saw them earlier, and I know you said they were your favorite …” He trails off, motioning to the daffodils as he sets the vase on your desk. You inhale. He’s right—they are your favorites, and you find yourself smiling at the playful yellow buds, basking in a kind of warmth you’ve been lacking.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

Loki chuckles, somewhat sheepishly. “I had meant them as a surprise for when you awakened in the morning. I assumed you would have been asleep by now. What are you still doing up?”

“Oh.” The headache previously flushed away by the flowers returns. You gesture vaguely at your computer screen. “Essay.”

“Ah.” He nods, scanning the document over your shoulder. “Have you been working on this all night? You must be exhausted.”

“Eh.” You shrug, trying and failing to crack an easy grin. “I’m alright.” You don’t need to look at him to feel the concern in his gaze.

But to your relief, he doesn’t voice it. Instead, he moves to rub your shoulders, a gentle massage that you didn’t realize you had been fantasizing about. You let out a sigh, leaning back in the Chair of Agony and melting into his touch.

“May I ask what the topic is?”

“Oh.” You inhale. “Well, it’s about socially constructed gender roles in The Convent of Pleasure. Like, how they’re so pervasive that even characters actively attempting to break free of them struggle to separate what is truly natural and what society has deemed to be natural. And, you know, how that’s still a thing in today’s society.”

You’re talking too much. You know it, even as you sit there rattling off your thesis. But Loki sounds genuinely intrigued

“That’s fascinating.”

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104 notes - Posted March 25, 2022

#4

Taking Notes

Summary: You need a whiteboard. Loki offers to be of assistance.

Word Count: 1,926

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: This spawned when I was obsessively outlining my creative writing honors thesis and complaining that I needed a whiteboard, and @naterson jokingly suggested I write on Loki. This is very silly and ridiculous and not particularly good, but I finished it so I figured I might as well post it. I pictured this reader being the same as that in Burning The Midnight Oil, but this isn't a sequel or anything-- you don't need to read that to understand this.

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Shirtlessness? Loki is shirtless for most of this, but it’s all very silly and innocent-- nothing sexual

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“Okay,” you say, and bite your lip. The marker is thinner than you expected it to be, but that doesn’t stop you from anxiously clicking the cap on and off and on and off again, the snapping noise blending into the backdrop of your notes-strewn dorm as you study your … canvas. “Are you ready?”

You can’t see Loki’s face from where he’s standing, face towards the wall and bare back to you, but you can tell he’s smirking. “As I’ll ever be, darling.” He stretches his arms out behind him, flexing the lean muscles of his shoulders, and chuckles at your soft inhale.

Cheeks aflame, you uncap the marker a final time and prepare to write.

Luckily your roommate is gone tonight, because you don’t think you would be able to explain this to her. You’re not even sure you can explain it to yourself. It had started when Loki arrived earlier this evening— it’s become an implicit understanding that he stay the night whenever your roommate is out, something you’re exceedingly grateful for (it spares you from the shame of having to admit you hate spending nights alone)—to find the unhinged chaos of a notorious procrastinator flying around the room, trying to do a month’s worth of work in two days.

“I need a whiteboard!” you had shouted at him, rummaging through your notes like a raccoon in a dumpster. The outline for your honors thesis was due at the end of the week, and there was too much to write, too much to keep track of, too much to see all at once. You had been violently suppressing the urge to go “fuck it” and just start writing on the wall above your bed.

Loki, for his part, had seem torn between confusion and amusement. “I beg your pardon?”

“A whiteboard!” You couldn’t find the scrap of paper with the character names you decided upon. “I need to write it all out so I can see it!”

Sometimes, you wonder what it would be like to have a normal boyfriend. How would a regular person have responded to such a dilemma? Suggest taping your notes to the wall, perhaps? Offer to help you organize everything? Certainly not smirk like a little gremlin with mischief in his eyes and purr, “Well, you could write it on me.”

Then again, you were the one who, after realizing that this was an offer put forth in the upmost sincerity, cocked your head to the side and said “okay.”

It had been goofy, the two of you rushing off to make a post-midnight Walgreens run for body markers (Loki had been fully prepared to let you scribble all over his back in Sharpie, but you had to draw the line somewhere), goofy in a fun, silly sort of way. It was cathartic—after so many hours stuffed away in your stuffy little dorm, the night air was fresh on your skin, and it felt good to giggle. But now, holding the marker just above his shoulder blades, you suddenly feel overwhelmed in a wave of self-consciousness.

“Don’t keep me waiting, darling,” Loki teases, but when you don’t answer he turns behind him to look at you. “Is something wrong?”

You hesitate. “This is weird.” You glance back up at him, not sure what you’re seeking. “This is weird, right?”

“Very,” he agrees. “But that doesn’t make it any less delightful.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Me taking notes all over your back is delightful?”

“Of course!” Loki smiles. “Any moment spent with you is delightful.”

Oh. Well that’s just incredibly sweet. Your eyes drop to the floor, unable to hold his gaze nor stifle the grin spreading across your face.

He’s laughing at your reaction, but it’s a warm sound, so light and airy it makes you feel weightless. “Do you still wish to continue?”

You mumble a yes, toying with the marker cap as he turns back towards the wall. Goodness, his back. His back is so gorgeous. You feel slightly lascivious, just ogling him like this, but you can’t help yourself. He’s just so smooth. You want to run your fingers down his spine, trace the lines of his body beneath your hands. You’ll never get over how soft his skin is. You love lying in bed with him, head on his chest, drawing circles on his stomach with your finger as he sleepily plays with your hair.

But enough of that thought.

Loki twitches when you write the first letter, and you pull back in an instinctual panic.

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109 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

#3

A Friend From Work

Summary: Loki pops into your lab one day at Stark Tower. Things just get weirder from there.

Word Count: 5,084

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: This is for the lovely @naterson​, whose birthday is today and who has said in the past that she loves the idea of an engineer reader working for Tony Stark. I definitely wouldn’t say that this is my best work-- it was a bit out of my comfort zone-- but I really wanted to give her that for her birthday. Happy birthday, Nat! I hope you have a great day <3<3<3

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Slight violence/hostage situation at the end

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

The first time you meet Loki is in your lab.

When he comes in, you’re nearly finished deconstructing a Chitauri particle gun, its guts splayed out across your table in a delicate ecosystem of wires and metallic parts. It’s been a neck-breaking process, equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. It still feels impossible to comprehend that the pieces in your hands were created on another planet, in another galaxy. That you are allowed to even hold this technology feels illegal, let alone to experiment with it.

For this reason, you don’t notice him right away. You’re too engrossed in your work to pay attention to the doorway behind you. It’s only after several minutes pass that the familiar tingle runs down your spine—that feeling of not being alone, of being watched. Your hands fall still. You whip around and yelp.

He’s just standing there behind you, dark curls slicked back over an expression of benign interest. At your cry, he cracks a smile that is somehow both equal parts apologetic and cocky.

“Good afternoon,” he grins. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Your pulse is racing. You had known that Loki is now stationed with the Avengers, with relative free rein of the tower. He’s not supposed to be dangerous—if he was, he’d be under a much more severe lock and key. But there’s still something about having the extraterrestrial responsible for the destruction of New York just casually moseying about your lab that sends your heart to your throat.

“How did you get in here?” Your hand flies beneath the table, where the red panic button rests against your fingers. It would trigger a lockdown sequence across the entire building, shutting down your floor immediately and dispatching agents to your location at once. You’ve never had to press it before, and you’re not particularly eager to now.

“I walked. The door was open, after all.” He nods in the direction of the hall, towards the door you were perpetually forgetting to lock, and flashes another smile. “It’s just that I’m in between assignments at the moment, and there’s precious little to do upstairs.”

You frown. Somehow, a bored immortal being once worshipped as a mischief god hanging around a tech lab sounds like a recipe for disaster. “Does Stark know you’re down here?”

“I’m sure he does. After all, if he didn’t, wearing these would certainly be a waste on my part.” Loki gives a nonchalant wave, showing off the silver bangle latched on to each wrist. They had been a non-negotiable in the agreement that sent Loki to work alongside the Avengers after the events in New York—Tony Stark had been particularly proud of himself for designing cuffs that could impede an Asgardian’s magic. You suppose it stands to reason he would have included a tracking device within them as well.

Still, you’re a bit hesitant. “JARVIS?” you call. “Does Mr. Stark know Loki’s in the labs?”

The clipped mechanical voice responds in an instant. “I have alerted him to that reality, Doctor.”

Loki grins. “See? No need to fret.” He takes a step forward, gazing at the mechanical parts strewn about your workspace. “What is it you’re doing here? Performing a dissection?”

You eye him suspiciously, backing away as he moves towards you. “I’m trying to reactivate the energy core.” It’s no secret, after all. It’s practically become a competition among Stark’s engineers over who can get the Chitauri tech functioning again first.

Loki sniffs. “Ah yes, of course. Mortals and their never-ceasing lust for power.”

“Lust for power’s got nothing to do with it,” you bristle. “I just want to see how this thing works.” You hesitate. “You wouldn’t be able to help with that, would you? You have experience with these weapons.” Although perhaps it’s a stupid question. Stark had probably gotten any and all useful information out of him a while ago.

The god chuckles. “I’m afraid mechanics were never my strong suit.” He eyes the seemingly defunct energy core, free from its nest of wires lodged within the particle gun. “Although I do recall that those can be highly volatile when exposed as you have it there.”

You can’t say that’s particularly groundbreaking insight. “Yeah, I know. But it’s no danger when it’s not functional.”

“Perhaps. But I’d be careful. It takes very little to set them off.”

The door slams, and now another figure his blustering into your lab, glaring daggers at your visitor, and you’re gulping air again because oh look, it’s your boss.

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253 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#2

Birdsong

Summary: In the middle of the night, Loki gets up to comfort his infant daughter and thinks about how lucky he is.

Word Count: 1,087

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

A/N: I didn't really plan to write this, but @naterson​ was talking about Loki being a father to a baby on Discord and it reminded me of a scene from a much larger story I think about a lot but don't plan on ever writing. I usually don't like writing fluff, but I ended up sitting down yesterday and writing this by hand in about an hour and it was genuinely quite lovely. So this one's for you, Nat! 

(And if you were wondering, Nat chose the baby name, although she didn't know what she was choosing XD)

Warnings: None

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Loki liked to lay awake at night.

It would have surprised you—when the two of you first met, he had found nights to be something horrific, a time where creeping creatures of the dark melded with monsters within his mind, tormenting him with violent memories of an inescapable past. But now, years later, the night meant something different to him. He laid in bed and admired the world steeped in darkness, soothed by the piercing song of the nightingale and the slow, steady sound of your breathing.

And occasionally, the shrill cries of a frightened infant.

At the sound of your daughter, Loki felt you stir besides him almost immediately—it was an instinctual reaction at this point, something several sleepless months of parenthood had well cultivated—but before you could fully sit up, he pressed you back into bed.

“I’ll take care of it,” he whispered, stroking a clump of hair from your face so he could press a kiss to your temple. “Go back to sleep.”

You truly were exhausted, it seemed, because you relaxed back against your pillow without even the slightest attempt to argue. Loki smiled, stroking a clump of hair from your face so he could press a kiss to your temple. Poor darling. Between the unfamiliar setting and beautifully taxing nature of the baby, he knew you hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over half a year. The three of you would be returning to Midgard soon, and he hoped that once home you would find it at least a bit easier to relax.

Infant wails still flooded the air, and so Loki pulled himself from the warm cocoon of blankets and bedsheets and shuffled across the hall to the tiny room just besides your own. Charlie was sitting up in her crib—she had been sitting by herself lately, to Loki’s intense pride, as well as rolling and scooting around on her stomach. She hiccupped over her little sobs as she cried, gulping when Loki entered, but not stopping.

“Now what’s wrong, my precious meyla?” he cooed, scooping her into his arms and rocking her against his chest. Charlie sniffled, but she was soon distracted by a clump of his own hair, reaching out to clutch at the strands with her tiny fingers. Loki held in his laugh as she tugged. She was just so small. Every time he looked at her, he found himself in awe at her littleness, marveling at how something so small, so delicate, so wondrously perfect, could come from him. It had to have been your influence. Loki certainly wasn’t capable of creating something so beautiful.

Her tears seemed to have abated, but Loki continued to rock her gently, making his way across the room to the window overlooking the back of the palace. Asgard’s gardens were still shrouded in darkness, but smallest pinpricks of light were beginning to creep from the horizon and into the star-streaked sky. Somewhere in the trees, the nightingale continued its song. For a moment they merely stood, letting nature’s sweet music wash over them both as they gazed across the realm.

You and Loki hadn’t planned to remain on Asgard for so long. After all, you both were happily settled on Midgard, where you could be close to your family and Loki could be at a satisfying distance from his—the only reason you had decided to give birth on his home planet (if one could call it that) was due to the medical concerns of being a human carrying the child of a Frost Giant. The potential for complications was very real, and while nothing could stop the anxious pacing that kept him up all throughout your third trimester, knowing that you were in the hands of the finest healers in the Nine Realms did somewhat allay his concerns. You both looked forward to returning home, but Loki had to admit that there was something magical about being able to share the world in which had grown up with the family he never thought he could have.

He held Charlie to the window, so that she might look out upon the gardens as well. “Isn’t it pretty, little heart?” he whispered. “Not near as pretty as you are, though.”

She cooed, blinking at him sleepily. She had your eyes—Loki had nearly cried when she firsts looked upon him, those same precious gemstones for which he had already known he’d happily fight and die to keep them sparkling. They lit up the same as yours did when she laughed, angelic little giggles that made Loki feel practically weightless with elation. He loved hearing her laugh. He carried the sound in his heart like a badge of honor, proud in the knowledge that no matter his past, no matter his failing, he had been graced with this perfect little girl’s smile.

Charlie was nodding off now, resting her drowsy head against his shoulder. Carefully, Loki laid her back in her crib. He was humming, without really realizing it—humming along to the nightingale’s song until it turned into some nonsensically affectionate lullaby his mother had sang to him in his youth. The realization made him chuckle. He had never though much of singing until he met you, your earnest insistence in the beauty of his voice breaking down the barriers of insecurity he had so long upheld around everything about himself. You cajoled him into singing to you as you laid against each other in bed; soft, silly little folk songs he recalled from childhood. He was grateful for the darkness then, so you could not see how his face flushed red. And yet, here he was now, a father singing his child to sleep without even the slightest modicum of unease. You would be proud.

Loki sighed as the nightingale’s song drew to a close. Sometimes he wondered if it was all a mistake. Surely, he had done nothing in his life to deserve such happiness. Every morning, he half expected to awaken alone and find it was all a dream—a lovely, beautiful dream that he could never hope to hold. And yet, day after day, the two of you remained, his two perfect girls, who meant more to him than life itself.

Charlie twitched in her sleep, the tiniest of kicks, and Loki smiled. He wondered what she was dreaming of. Dawn was beginning to creep over the horizons, but Loki didn’t care. Even in the dark, he had everything he could ever want.

257 notes - Posted February 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Orange is the Happiest Color

Summary: “I had a dream that you proposed to me with an orange.” 

He chuckled, relaxing back into his pillow. “Did you say yes?”

Word Count: 2,657

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: So I had a dream about Loki proposing with an orange. I drew this. And then I wrote this. It’s very stupid. I’m not sure I’m happy with it. Here it is. Don’t take it too seriously. 

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: None

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

“I had a dream that you proposed to me with an orange.”

It was a strange way to begin the morning. Loki raised his eyebrows as he rolled to his side, propping his head up with his hand and studying you with a sleepy sort of amusement. “You dreamt I did what?”

“You proposed with an orange.” The words felt silly on your tongue, but it was still early in the morning, with only the slightest hints of sunlight slipping through the slits in the curtain to where the two of you lay tangled in blankets. It was sleepy enough to be silly. “We were in an orange grove. You opened two halves of an orange like a ring box, got down on one knee, and proposed.”

Loki chuckled, a lazy puff of breath escaping his lips as he relaxed back into his pillow. “Did you say yes?” he asked.

The question caught you off guard. Frowning, you tried to recall. The dream now felt distant and murky, something that faded a bit more with every waking moment spent beyond it. There were little more than still images left behind now—the sweet taste of citrus on the air, Loki’s goofy grin as he knelt before you, the wild wave of ecstasy that crashed through your soul at the realization …

“Yeah, I did.” You smiled. The memory was so warm, like reclining into a hot bath after a long day. “I said yes.”

Loki laughed again and pulled you close against his chest so he could press a kiss to your temple. You snuggled against his sternum, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. The room had gone silent again, a contemplative quiet.

Maybe you shouldn’t have told him the dream. It drifted too close to the unspoken. You and Loki had talked about marriage before, but nothing really beyond vague little allusions back when you had first started seeing each other two years ago. The situation was rather … difficult, you supposed the word was—when one partner’s biology would cause them to outlive the other’s by several millennia, planning for the future wasn’t exactly the optimistic conversation it was often cracked up to be. The two of you had elected to ignore the hulking bilgesnipe in the room and simply enjoy each day as it came. But the topic continued to simmer beneath the surface. Clearly.

Why else would you be dreaming of proposals?

But the two of you would have to wait to jump into a deep dive dream analysis, because the bedroom had barely been quiet a minute before Loki’s Avengers-branded communicator exploded into its usual obnoxious tirade of beeps and buzzes from where it had been exiled to the floor the night before.

Loki groaned, propelling himself to a sitting post even as you continued to cling to his shoulders.

“Can’t you ignore it?” you whined. “Just this once?”

He laughed, attempting to squirm out of your grasp—although you were nearly certain he was only doing so for appearance’s sake, because you both knew well enough that if he wished he could shrug you off with the flick of his wrist.

“If I do, they’ll break down your apartment door in their crusade to drag me there themselves,” he laughed. “And that would make quite the mess of your lovely doormat.”

“Let them try. They’ll have to go through me,” you declared. “I just got you back, and now they’re going to send you away again—”

“It won’t be long—”

“You don’t know that—”

“Darling, I promise—”

“That’s what you said last time.” You pouted, even though you knew you were being childish. It wasn’t Loki’s fault. The terms of his sentence, the terms that kept him out of an Asgardian prison and free to live by your side in the first place, mandated that he must assist the Avengers in any way required, at any point required, regardless of his personal desires. He was their muscle and their errand boy all at once, the red shirts sent in to handle situations too dangerous or too tedious to risk the other Avengers. These missions could take up to a couple of days to a couple of weeks to a couple of months, and often you found yourself left in the dark with no contact with which to determine when he was coming home, or if he was coming back at all. You hated it, and Loki knew it.

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312 notes - Posted February 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #feels good that my top five posts were all stories #that feels really good actually

[manyothermusingsofmine]

                  “You must be truly desperate to come to me for help.”                                                  “Perhaps.” You don’t know what you want, you don’t know where you’re standing Don’t know where you came from, (or) where you’re going You don’t know what drives you, what will remain in the end for you Why are you so pale, so cold, so heartless? You don’t know what you’re doing, don’t know what you believe in Tell me for what reason and if you still need me If it simply doesn’t work anymore If you really only hate me Why are you here, for what? What more could you want from me? What more could you actually want from me?

It’s MY headcanon and I DECREE that I can make all the damn Marvel parallels I want, nobody’s stopping me. I kinda hate how Kristoph’s eye turned out but fucking whatever I guess. I can sit here and pretend like I thought up the German all on my own but what I actually did was cross reference the English transcript of Thor Dark World with a German subtitle file until I got the Loki quote I wanted and I just fucked around and found out in Google Translate that I liked the reply of “Vielleicht.” dunno what else to tell you other than my German is incredibly rusty Okay so I kinda have my own thoughts, feelings and opinions about Klavier and Kristoph and how they still work after yknow, the Apollo Justice game concludes. So uh I saw the fandom yelling a lot about Klavier cutting his hair after the ordeal to be less like Kristoph and then someone was like “okay but consider Kristoph cutting his hair cause he wants to be less like Klavier?” And then the braincell in charge of my creativity slammed its hands on the defense desk and went “bOTH!! BOTH IS GOOD!!” Well, both. kinda. sorta. No wait listen hear me out;  these two, aside from brothers, are very clearly parallels to each other. So Kristoph gets the full “slice off my hair cause if I look in the mirror and see Klavier again I’m going to fucking sCREAM” breakdown scenario Klavier on the other hand takes a sabbatical after the game concludes and basically spirals into depression for quite a while and starts dressing in tshirts, hoodies and sweatpants and doesnt have the energy to care about his hair so it just does its thing and grows until some time before he’s reinstated as prosecutor he catches his reflection and is like “when the fuck did my hair get that long” and has it professionally cut back to a length he can and wants to deal with. thanks for coming to my TEDtalk 

#Drifting does art things #kristoph gavin #klavier gavin

[sarcastic-salem]

I’ve been talking to my crush on social media and I honestly cannot tell what the fuck is going on. For a minute I was confident that he liked me back, but I don’t really know cause we’ve never just hung out. He’s the librarian at the local library which sounds weird but he’s my age and semi-normal.

I’ve caught him checking me out, he always smiles and waves to me, he remembered my name after it was corrected and didn’t deadname me, he always makes a point to say hello to me in the library even if there are other people around, and he went out of his way to tell me when the slow days were at the library. Then we started chatting on social media and he starts telling me all of these personal details about himself. I mean, not like his darkest secrets but just like stuff I don’t think people would share with someone they didn’t trust. Then he asked my opinion about this show we were both watching and told me to keep him updated cause he wanted to hear my thoughts.

And here’s where I get confused.

Not only can he take a while — like sometimes days to respond but he told me that he got turned down by this other person but wasn’t sad about it. And then he starts telling me about his sense of humor and stuff, and just like personality details.

And I’m just like trying to be supportive cause at this point……I feel like if this dude has any interest in me at all it probably isn’t serious. I was just like, “Oh, I’m sorry it went that way but I’m glad you’re doing okay. You’re a great guy tho.” Then he just stops messaging me. For like two days.

And Loki being the romantic that he is is over here writing fucking fanfiction about us — not literally — and coming up with all these theories.

But the logical side of me is like, “I’ve been reading too much into this and this dude clearly does not like me as much as I thought. Or at all. He’s just being friendly.”

At the same time, I’m like depressed cause like……..I really like this dude and when I get rejected I tend to feel like I’m the most shitty, unlovable person in the world. Cause I don’t know how to meet people. That’s kinda how I ended up in this situation in the first place. I don’t drink because I hate the taste of beer, so I don’t go out to bars. Online dating just feels like bullshit and its a lot easier to get manipulated by someone online if you aren’t careful.

So my neurodivergent ass ended up falling for the librarian.

I did just recently start going out to the museum because I really like art and stuff. I thought I was gonna die when I saw a Jackson Polluck painting for the first time. Idk.

I just wish I could get some sort of confirmation about what the fuck is happening with this dude. Its kinda driving me nuts.

#my life #life update #friendship #relationships #romantic relationships #rambling #book nerd #nerd problems #nerd life #why am i like this #life with loki #actually neurodivergent

[thispabulum-blog]

I'm Running Out of Ways to Say I'm Boring

What's the Tea? Tuesday

What did I do this week? Fuck all. Have some memes.

Wednesday Cuddlebug brought me home, because I was feeling really mentally gross and just wanted to be at home in my own bed, where I watched the classic film Speed and ate Chef Boyardee ravioli from a can because it was better than not eating and easier than getting up to heat it. Yay depression.

Thursday I did some painting, and that helped a bit. Gotta do more art. Meeko Neko came home with food; I got pansexual kisses and a homophobic sandwich. This roommate stuff is pretty alright.

Friday I spilled an entire container of water on my floor, and was suddenly very glad I have hardwood floors. Then I took a weird nap in the evening and had a nightmare that I gave birth to a baby and Dr. Strangelove's mom was raising it - a horrible fate, and then I stayed up until 7am watching an entire season of The Masked Singer (season 4, if you're curious. I've got some catching up to do). Meeko Neko joined for cuddles at some point.

Saturday I did some organizing of my art supplies, and then put up wallpaper over my art desk and hung up some art. It's a very cute part of my room now, and will make a good background for job interviews/meetings/assorted video calls.

I discovered that one problem with getting into erotic painting is that now I don't know where to hang a lot of things. If you're a friend of mine, you might be getting an erotic art gift at some point. Have fun figuring out where to put it.

I talked to Cuddlebug at some point about how I wasn't sure about having dates over at my new place yet because things aren't totally sorted, and he offered to let me have boys over at his place. A cute boyfriend, for sure. I don't know if it entirely solves my problems, but I might have to try it at some point.

Sunday I emptied a spare Ramen seasoning packet into a bag of popcorn, and I feel I may be onto something. Aside from a sodium overload.

Swipe Right did a Twitch stream from his backyard pool, so I got to watch him and his very cute cousin get drunk on Truly and do crab dances for like 5 hours.

I also started watching Loki, and got through the first two episodes. I may have to re-watch the second one because my attention drifted, but it's a good time.

I was getting ready for bed and there was a big gross waterbug on my blanket, and I made Meeko Neko come kill it for me. Living with boys comes in handy.

Monday I started talking to a guy from Hinge who seemed kinda okay if a bit gung-ho, but then I asked him to send pictures of himself and he sent me 6 pictures in the exact same pose, in the exact same location, with the exact same facial expression. Only the clothes were different. And idk, that level of boring just doesn't appeal to me, so I'm never talking to him again.

But I also started talking to a different guy from Hinge who's gonna be called Deep Dish, which seems like a perfectly fine name. He's 25, has two kids, and has no experience with polyamory. Oh boy. I don't think he's a Sad Boy, but he is short, so we're gonna give him a shot. The vibes are good and we may try to get together sometime soon.

Chex Mix is frequently in touch, but I still need him to cool off a bit before I want to hang out with him.

Eclipse might come by sometime this week. I want to play Nightmare Before Christmas Monopoly with him and watch something spooky.

Cuddlebug is planning to come pick me up Thursday or Friday, and I'm supposed to have a date with Item 9 on Saturday. We'll see how that goes.

#Spotify

[iamanartichoke]

I rewatched the finale twice today (the second time was by accident) and idk, one of the things I kept thinking about was how hard Loki tried to get Sylvie to stop and how, in comparison, Thor barely tried at all to get Loki to stop. And it makes me feel a whole bunch of things I don't know how to articulate so I'm just ... gonna go wander off and take a shower or something, bc everything about Loki is just ruining my life.

#has *anyone* ever loved loki as much as he clearly loves sylvie? #he's known her for like three days asdkjhjdksa i don't even believe he's in love with her #but whatever he feels he feels it so deeply and he just doesn't. give. up. #on trying to stop her from making a terrible mistake not only bc of the timelines but arguably bc #'i've felt what you feel' follows into the guilt and shame and regret loki likely feels afterwards #or is shown to feel #and i just - it really fucking depresses me okay that loki has such #a huge capacity to love and he has spent most of his life using it on people who don't fucking deserve it #namely his family #and i'm pissed at thor too honestly bc i love thor and i love their dynamic but god thor gave like the barest minimum effort #to either stop loki or try to get through to him or try to understand #and that's just a large failing on the narrative of the mcu as a whole - starting from thor 2011 and going right into iw #'you really are the worst brother' etc #like honestly fuck you thor. i love you but just fuck you. loki deserved so much better #smh nobody come @ me i'm going to go cry in the shower lmao fml #loki series spoilers #loki tv series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki series positive #loki deserved better

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

It's Okay To Not Be Okay

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Stark!Reader

Summary: Months after the events of endgame, Stephen and the reader crosses paths.

Warnings: You may cry while reading this & I am so sorry

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

This is my first Dr. Strange fic so please show some love ❤

MASTERLIST

------

New York

This city holds so many stories, so much history for everyone that resides or visits here, especially for me.

With my gloved hands tucked away in my coat pockets, I stared up at the tower that originally had mine and my brother's last name branded on it & sighed as it was reduced to a regular skyscraper just like the rest of the neighbouring buildings.

So much has happened in and around that building; it's where Steve nervously asked me out in the gym, Loki's attack with the chitauri, Tony diverting a nuke from the city and taking it into space, the many parties thrown by Tony.

A lot has happened.

It's been a little over six months since I've lost three of the most important people in my life. My best friend sacrificed herself on Vormir, my fiancé left me to have his true happy ending and my brother who snapped his fingers ending the battle by sacrificing himself.

Wish you guys were here

"Y/N" a familiar voice called out to me, pulling me from my daze

Doctor Stephen Strange joined me on the sidewalk, eyes also glued on the tower in the distance.

"Doctor"

"After everything we've both been through you can skip the formalities" a blanket of silence covered us, the only things that could be heard are the sounds of shoes hitting the concrete sidewalk, the blaring of horns and the occasional curse words exchanged among the people.

"I know you didn't just show up here to stand and look at a building so, what's going on?"

"Come with me" he opened a portal and stepped through, waiting for me to do the same. With a final glimpse at the tower I followed him into the sanctum.

Plopping down on the leather couch I waited for him to get to the point. I really just wanted to spend time alone but maybe that is exactly what I shouldn't do.

"Seems like you have a lot on your mind"

"We're not doing this" I stood up just as quickly as I had sat down ready to leave this place. No way I'm talking about this with the man I barely know anything about.

"Y/N, at some point you're going to have to talk about it. You lost a lot in such a small span of time"

"Yeah, obviously you would know" scoffing I spun around to face him as he leaned against his desk.

"Tell me Stephen when you viewed all those outcomes, did you also see Steve doing what he did or were you just focused on how my brother has to be the one that dies to end it all?" I hated this, I hated that he was the one that he knew what he did and didn't bring it up. I shouldn't blame him but, FUCK I hate him.

"I did know Captain Rogers was going to return the stones before going back to Peggy"

"Great, that's fucking fantastic and you could have at least given me a heads-up on that yet you didn't"

"If I did something else would've happened and it would've been much worse" crossing his arms, his steel blue eyes were trained one me as I fought to hold back my tears.

"Thanks for the talk doc I really enjoyed it, I should go. Do you mind opening one of your fancy portals to the lake house?" I needed to get away before I completely lost it in front of him but he had other plans.

"You're struggling to keep it together, pretending that everything's okay"

Fuck you Stephen, my vision blurred and I turned my back towards him, refusing to let him see you like this.

"You lost your older brother, you lost Natasha and your fiancé left you to have his happy ending"

"Thanks for the depressing recap doc, I appreciate it" his body heat radiated off of him and seeped through the white t-shirt I had on as he stood behind me. Ignoring my snarky remark he continued.

"It's okay to not be okay Y/N"

"I'm sure it is but if don't stay strong for Pepper and Morgan then who's going too Stephen?"

"Stop trying to fight your grief, it'll consume you entirely. Allow yourself to feel it all, the pain, anger. Cry, scream, smash a few things if you have to but don't keep it in." he gently held on to my biceps and I completely broke down, leaning all my weight on him.

Stephen held me tightly against him, comforting me as I felt it all. All the pain and heartache that I've been pushing down and ignoring, crashed down on me all at once and I screamed into his chest.

"Let it out"

My body shook with the intensity of my cries, I hated this. I hated the fact that Tony wasn't here, I missed Nat so much but I hated Steve the most. He left me when I needed him the most to go back to her. After everything we've been through I still wasn't good enough for him. I hated him with every fiber of my being but I also knew that he wasn't going to get over her yet I still stayed with him, so I also hated myself for thinking that what we had was even going to last.

I held onto Stephen like my life depended on it as my sobs died down to hiccups. I tucked my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his mild aftershave. His hand cupped the back of my head as he gently rocked us from side to side.

"Thank you Stephen" neither of us made any attempt to let go of each other and as much as I said I hated him earlier on, in this moment all I wanted was for him to keep holding me.

"You don't have to thank me" pulling back a bit I looked into his eyes.

"You give the best hugs" chuckling he nodded

"So I've been told, how are you feeling now?" he wiped away the streaks of tears from my cheeks and I swooned a bit

Are we that touch deprived Y/N?

"Much better"

"Good" breaking us apart, he opened the portal for me like I asked earlier. Morgan and Pepper were seated on the dock in the distance and I smiled. Stepping through I turned to face him.

"Don't be surprised if I show up for more of those hugs Strange"

"You know where to find me" shooting me a playful wink he closed the portal.

Me, catching feelings for Stephen? That cannot be.

Oh but darling, it is.

"Aunty Y/N!" Morgan's high pitched voice disrupted the arguments between my brain and heart. She ran as fast as her little legs would allow to reach me and I immediately scooped her up into my arms, greatful to see the little girl.

"I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too sweet girl"

Of all the ways today could've gone I never considered I'd end up crying in the arms of the sorcerer, Doctor Stephen Strange and liking the feeling of being in his arms.

Pushing that thought to the side, I listened to the child on my hip as she told me about what her and her mother did for the day. For once in the past couple months I'm able to look her in the face without the urge of breaking down, she looked so much like Tony.

"Are you okay aunty, you're quiet"

"I'm okay now, I just needed one of your special hugs."

------

MCU Taglist:

@dorks2022 @sophiaedits @peakascum @anonymoustip217 @mel119g @iiddaaa @panaitbeatrice @mintphoenix @hardcoppizzasludge @tanyaherondale @creatingjana @calimoi @rootcrop @louisianalady @chrisfucksblog @thummbelina @n3ssm0nique @vicmc624 @leyannrae @janaev4ns

#doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x ofc #stephen strange x stark!reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader #captain america smut #iron man imagine #iron man x you #natasha romanoff #marvel x oc #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

[therealvinelle]

I've always wondered this, but what do you think the Cullen's political viewpoints would be, given their individual backgrounds? if vampires don't change after they turn, then surely they would all be extremely racist (especially Jasper). would this not come up at some point? they aren't like the Volturi because the Volturi are too old to care, but the Cullens are young enough that they have been brought up with opinions on stuff like sexism, racism, homophobia and the like.

Oh fuck.

You get an early answer because otherwise I'll just chicken out and delete this one, pretend I never saw it.

UMMM.

Since I'm guessing you meant American political viewpoints, we need a disclaimer. I am not American, and not too knowledgeable about your politics. Not just in the sense that I don't follow the day-to-day drama, but as I am not an American citizen there are several things I don't know, can't know because I've never lived in your country and therefore can't know what the effects of living in a country ruled by American policies is like. What I do know is based off of the news in the foreign section, social media (by which I mean tumblr posts), and Trevor Noah's Daily Show.

I am an outsider looking in.

Which is really rather appropriate, since the Cullens are too.

The Cullens go to high school and college, Carlisle works, they pay taxes, they own real estate, and submerge themselves in American culture. Esme, Edward, Rosalie, Emmett, and Bella are young enough that this is in many ways their world, and apart from timeouts they've more or less spent their entire lives, human and vampire, integrated into American society.

Not fully integrated, mind you, they do what they need to to fit in and get to school or, in Carlisle’s case, to work. They go no further. No extra-curriculars for the kids, no book clubs for Esme, no game nights for Carlisle. They walk parallel to humans, not among us.

In addition to this they're obscenely rich, which puts them another thousand miles from the experiences of your average American. They won't deal with the health system, which means healthcare is a non-issue, they're not going to need welfare or other social programs, unemployment is another non-issue. Name your issue, and the Cullens don't have personal stake in it. Even the climate crisis won't be a problem for them the way it will for us.

What I'm trying to say is, American political issues are a concept to them, not a lived reality. Just like they are for me. So hey, you made a great choice of blog to ask.

I'll also add here that you say the Volturi are too old to care, and I agree- from an ancient's point of view, racism is a matter of "which ethnicity are we hating today?", and it all looks rather arbitrary after a while. Same with every other issue - after a while it all just blends together into "what are the humans fighting over today? Which Christian denomination is the correct one? Huh. Good for them, I guess."

I can't put it any better than this post did, really. The Volturi are real people, humans are nerds and tumblr having Loki discourse. Aro thinks it's delightful and knows entirely too much about Watergate (and let's be real, Loki discourse as well), but the point I wanted to get at is that politics really don't matter to vampires.

And I don't think they matter to the Cullens either.

So, moving on to the next point while regretting I didn't put headlines in this post, I'll just state that I don't think vampires' minds are frozen. Their brains are unable to develop further, and they can never forget anything, but... well, this isn't the post for that, but in order for this to be true of vampires they would barely be sentient. They would not be able to process new impressions, to learn new things, nor to have an independent thought process. Yes, we see vampires in-universe (namely, Edward, who romanticizes himself and vampires) believe they're frozen and can never change, but there is no indication that this is a widespread belief, or even true. Quite the contrary - Carlisle went from a preacher's son who wanted to burn all the demons to living in Demon Capital for decades and then becoming a doctor and making a whole family of demons. Clearly, the guy has had a change in attitude over the years. Jasper, in his years as a newborn army general, slowly grew disenchanted with his life and developed depression. James initially meant to kill Victoria and hunted her across the earth, then became fascinated and changed his mind about it.

Had these people been incapable of change, Carlisle would still be hating demons, Jasper would be in Maria's army, and James would still be hunting Victoria.

It goes to follow, then, that they are able to adapt to new things.

The question is, would they?

Here I finally answer your question.

So, we have these people who don't really have any kind of stake in politics, who keep up to date all the same (or are forcibly kept up to date because high school) and are generally opinionated people.

Where do they then fall, politically?

(And this is where you might want to stop reading, anon, because I'm about to eviscerate these people.)

Alice votes for whoever's gonna win. She also makes a fortune off of betting each election. Trump's 1 to 10 victory in 2016 was a great day to be Alice. MAGA!

The actual policies involved are completely irrelevant, she does this because it's fun. Election means she gets to throw parties. Color coded parties for the Republican and Democratic primaries, and US-themed parties for Election Night! (Foreigner moment right here: I at first wrote "Election wake" before realizing that's not what y'all murricans call it.)

Alice loves politics. Doesn't know the issues, but she sure loves politics.

Bella votes Democrat. She actually knows about the issues, and cares about them. This girl is a Democrat through and through.

Carlisle doesn't vote. I can't imagine it feels right. Outside of faked papers he's not a US citizen, this is meddling in human affairs that he knows don't concern him.

More, this guy has never lived in a democracy.

In life, Carlisle lived under an absolute monarchy that, upon civil war, became an absolute theocracy. From there he learned that vampires live under a total dictatorship.

For the first 150 years of his life, democracy was that funky thing the Athenians did in history books thousands of years ago, no more relevant to him than the Ancient Egyptian monarchy is to me. Then the Americans, and later other European countries started doing this.

Good for them.

There's this mistake often made by those who view history from a... for lack of a better term, a solipsistic standpoint. A belief that the present day is the culmination of all of history. “My society is the best society, the most reasonable society; all the others had it backwards. Thank god we’re living in this enlightened age!”

The faith in our current system of government is one such belief. We (pardon me if this doesn’t apply to everybody reading this post) have grown up in democracies, being told this is the ultimate form of rule, and perhaps that is true - but remember the kings who have told their subjects they had were divine and the best possible ruler based on that. Remember also that most modern democracies haven’t actually been democracies for very long at all, America is the longest standing at some 230 years (not long at all in the grand scope of things) and they have a fracturing two-party system to show for it.

Every society, ever, has been told they’re the greatest, and their system of government the most just. Democracy is only the latest hit.

This is relevant to Carlisle because he’s immortal and decidedly not modern. Democracy has not been installed in him the way it was the rest of the Cullens, Jasper included. To him- well, it’s just not his world. He has no stakes in our human politics, and as he is older than every current democracy and has seen quite a few of them fall, he’s not going to internalize the democratic form of rule the way a modern human has.

I think the concept of voting is foreign to him.

It requires a level of participation in human society that he’s simply not at. He does the bare minimum to appear human so he do the work he loves, but nothing more, and I find that telling.

As it is I think he'd be iffy about his family doing it. He won’t stop them, but in voting they’re... well it’s kind of cheating. They’re not really citizens, none of this will affect them, and by voting they’re drowning out the votes of real human voters. He does not approve.

Edward votes Democrat. He's... well he’s the kind of guy who will oil a girl’s bedroom window so he can more easily watch her sleep without being discovered, justifying it to himself as being okay because if she were to tell him to get lost he’d stop immediately. Same guy is so sure that he’d leave and never return again if she wanted him to, except this is the man who returned to Forks to hang around his singer, knowing there was a significant chance he might kill her. To say nothing of his Madonna/Whore complex, or of the fact that he tried to pimp out his wife twice, and was willing to forcibly abort her child.

This guy is very much in love with chivalry, with being an enlightened and feminist man who supports and respects women, while not understanding the entire point of feminism, which is female liberation.

He votes Democrat because he’s such an enlightened feminist who cares about women’s rights.

Emmett doesn’t care to vote, but if he has to he votes Republican. The guy is from the 1930′s, and has major would-be-the-uncle-who-cracks-racist-jokes-if-he-was-older vibes.

Esme doesn’t vote, that would require getting out of the house.

More, I just... can’t see it. I can’t see her being one to read up on politics and The Issues, period, but if she has to then I doubt she’d be able to decide.

Jasper doesn’t vote. Alice can have her fun, he does not care.

There’s also the whole can of worms regarding the last time he went to bat for American politics.

I imagine he stays out of this.

Renesmée doesn't vote. She has no stock in the human affairs. Who would she vote for, on what grounds? When Bella tries to pull her to the urns, she points out that she's three years old.

Rosalie, guys, I’m sorry, but that girl is definitely gonna vote Republican. Perhaps not right now as it’s become the Trump party of insanity, but the Mitt Romney type of Republicans? Oh yes.

And for the record, yes I imagine she does vote. To step back from politics would be another way she was relinquishing her humanity, and that’s not allowed to happen. So, yes, she goes to the urns, less for the sake of the politics involved and more because like this, she’s still a part of society in some way.

Now, onto why I think she’s Republican, I think it’s both fiscal and social.

This girl was the daughter of a banker who somehow profited off of the Depression, and who then became part of a family with no material needs that would soon become billionaires thanks to Alice. Poverty to Rosalie is a non-issue, as it is I imagine she views it as a much lesser issue than what she’s had to deal with. The humans can pull themselves up by their bootstraps, Rosalie’s infertility is forever.

Rosalie’s empathy is strongest when she’s able to project onto others, and she won’t be able to project onto the less fortunate at all.

Then there’s the fact that the Republican party is all about traditional family values, and pro-life.

Rosalie, a woman from the 1930′s who idolizes her human life and who‘d love nothing more than to get to live out this fantasy, is down for that. And as of Breaking Dawn she’s vocally pro-life, so there’s that.

This all being said I don’t think Rosalie cares to sit down and fully understand these politics she’s voting for, the possible impact they’ll have- that’s not important. What’s important is what voting does for her.

TL;DR: I bet anon regrets asking.

#long post #twilight #twilight vampires #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #politics #history #twilight history #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #bella swan #renesmée cullen #jasper hale #rosalie hale #emmett cullen

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

I hate how Endgame treats Thor. Him gaining weight, that's not the problem. That can happen to people who've gone through extreme bouts of depression. It's the content fat jokes and unsympathetic framing to make him look pathetic. Oh, but look he's still worthy so that makes it okay.

No one outside Rocket and Bruce have a significant conversation with Thor. They barely talk to him outside making jokes. Like, that's their friend and teammates. Would it have killed them to have some empathy.

Ugh I hate it too.

I think it's out of character for pretty much everyone involved. I don't think Valkyrie would ignore the hell out of him when he was drinking his life away because she knows exactly what that is and she had spent enough time with him and Loki to know how important his brother was to him (and Heimdall!).

It makes no sense for Rhodey who has always been a compassionate and understanding character who had to put up with so much crap from Stark. He would have never made those jokes to Thor when knows just how bad he's had it.

It makes no sense for Steve to look at him with contempt and not take one goddamn second to just check on him. And yes, I get that Steve had lost way too much as well but precisely because of that! This kid is compassion on legs. He took the time to speak to Natasha and try to help her, are you seriously telling me he would be rolling his eyes at Thor? Absolutely fucking not.

The only one I think acted in-character was Rocket. We saw in GoTG that pep talks and compassion are really not his thing (while he's right in what he says to Drax, the way he says it is way too cruel), and he lost every single member in his team so it makes sense for him to be mad. But if the directors were going to show that scene and the jokes and his teammates not giving a damn about him, they should have given us something else because Thor did NOT deserve any of that.

You know what breaks my heart? That what has Thor really learnt throughout that whole thing? That he's alone. Utterly, completely alone. That in the past he's tried to be there for everyone and while yes, his behaviour with Loki could have been better, but Thor put up with a lot as well and he was always there... but the moment he falters who is there for him? No wonder he leaves with the Guardians.

That's one of the things I hate about EG. In Avengers the team was still getting to know each other, in AoU there was a sense of found family among them, they got closer, they felt more like friends than coworkers. But come EG all that is gone and they only feel like a bunch of people who would rather be anywhere else than together, who are only preoccupied with fixing the snap then leaving each other to live their lives. All that just to give us one of the worst cases of amatonormativity known in fiction.

#anti endgame #Thor my beloved #that got long but... I have a lot of feels and all of them are of love for my god of thunder #sparkles my beloved #fuck endgame

[alirhi]

okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

#fan rant #ragepost #long post #bucky barnes #mcu #captain america #the first avenger #the winter soldier #civil war #tfatws #mcu spoilers #stop victim blaming #victim not villain #never a fucking villain #bucky deserved better #fuck marvel #fuck disney

[cozy-the-overlord]

Burning the Midnight Oil

Summary: You’re alone and miserable, up far too late losing your mind over an essay that isn’t even due tomorrow when Loki pops in with flowers.

Word Count: 1,858

Pairing: Loki x Gender Neutral Reader

A/N: So this is a reader fic, but also the reader is literally just me. I usually don’t like writing super obviously personal self-indulgent fluff, but I’ve had an incredibly shitty week and just ended up writing this in my notebook yesterday. This isn’t really edited, and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense (like ... don’t question how Loki ended up dating a random college student), but it was therapeutic to write and I figured I might as well post it. Also, the line Loki reads aloud is from Sonnet 29, a poem that has absolutely nothing to do thematically with this story, but it’s my favorite sonnet and I wanted Loki to read it to me so don’t judge.

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Implied depression

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm @lostgreekgod​ @naterson​

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Your back hurts.

Everything hurts, actually. These dorm-issued chairs are not designed with long-term comfort in mind, and you’ve been sitting here hunched at your desk for a while now, several hours at least. There had still been light streaming through your weather-beaten blinds when you first sat down to work, but the sun had long since faded beneath the horizon—in fact, if your roommate had been here, she probably would have asked you a while ago in her soft, amiable manner if it was okay if she turned off the big ceiling light, her polite way of telling you to get the fuck off your laptop and go to bed. But your roommate isn’t here—she’s staying over at her asshole damned-lucky-to-have-her boyfriend’s apartment, a last-minute decision that left you alone and unsupervised for the night.

You’re fine though. It’s good to have time to yourself. Hell, there was a time where the prospect of a night of solitude would send you jumping for joy. It’s just … well, you have a tendency of turning a vacant room into an echo chamber to your thoughts, and these days your thoughts haven’t exactly been the kind of thing you enjoy being alone with.

It doesn’t matter. Tonight, you’re fine—you have a distraction. This essay isn’t due until Friday, but you’ve determined to finish it tonight, and now you can’t go to bed until the final period has been typed. It’s a messy business, essay writing. All night, you’ve known nothing but the relentless back and forth between the brilliant spark of a fresh idea that leaves you feeling like a genius and the all-consuming urge to bash your laptop against the wall over and over and over again before you allow your professor to lay her eyes on the wretched piece. At the moment, you’re beginning to stumble back into the latter, but you force yourself to swallow your self-contempt and keep going. It doesn’t matter how awful it is, just that it’s finished. Then you can lie on your heating pad and fall asleep to the sound of a YouTube art video you’ve watched a million times before.

“What are you still doing up?”

You jump at the question, nearly knocking your computer from its precarious position perched on the edge of your desk. Loki reaches around you to steady it with one hand—the other is supporting a vase the size of your head blooming with vibrant daffodils.

“Forgive me,” he says. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You let out a breath that’s shakier than you intended. One would think that after nearly a year of dating a literal magic extraterrestrial man of myth, you wouldn’t even bat an eye at his habit of just … appearing, but there are still times when it makes your heart race.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to drop these off. I saw them earlier, and I know you said they were your favorite …” He trails off, motioning to the daffodils as he sets the vase on your desk. You inhale. He’s right—they are your favorites, and you find yourself smiling at the playful yellow buds, basking in a kind of warmth you’ve been lacking.

“They’re beautiful,” you whisper. “Thank you so much.”

Loki chuckles, somewhat sheepishly. “I had meant them as a surprise for when you awakened in the morning. I assumed you would have been asleep by now. What are you still doing up?”

“Oh.” The headache previously flushed away by the flowers returns. You gesture vaguely at your computer screen. “Essay.”

“Ah.” He nods, scanning the document over your shoulder. “Have you been working on this all night? You must be exhausted.”

“Eh.” You shrug, trying and failing to crack an easy grin. “I’m alright.” You don’t need to look at him to feel the concern in his gaze.

But to your relief, he doesn’t voice it. Instead, he moves to rub your shoulders, a gentle massage that you didn’t realize you had been fantasizing about. You let out a sigh, leaning back in the Chair of Agony and melting into his touch.

“May I ask what the topic is?”

“Oh.” You inhale. “Well, it’s about socially constructed gender roles in The Convent of Pleasure. Like, how they’re so pervasive that even characters actively attempting to break free of them struggle to separate what is truly natural and what society has deemed to be natural. And, you know, how that’s still a thing in today’s society.”

You’re talking too much. You know it, even as you sit there rattling off your thesis. But Loki sounds genuinely intrigued

“That’s fascinating.”

You laugh. You can’t help yourself. He always sounds so earnest when you tell him about your classes, even when he has no reason to be interested in them. It makes you feel important.

“Have you heard of The Convent of Pleasure?” you ask. “It was a play from the English Renaissance.”

“Oh yes. Margaret Cavendish, correct?” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he continues. “I remember seeing it when it was first penned.”

He loves doing this—slipping in these casual reminders that he is, in fact, an immortal being who was present for every bygone era that you’re studying. You remember the first time he did it, leafing through your decrepit copy of Hamlet and offhandedly recalling the production he saw of the play, with Shakespeare playing the role of the Ghost. You think he just enjoys how your eyes widen.

This time, however, something doesn’t match up. You narrow your gaze suspiciously.

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve never been more sincere.”

“No, you’re not!” There’s a kind of playful satisfaction in knowing you’ve outsmarted him. “Convent of Pleasure is a closet play. It was never performed.”

Loki chuckles. “I see my tricks are no match for your superior intellect.” You’re already glowing from the compliment, but then he leans over to press a kiss to the top of your head and you positively melt.

“I really did read it though,” he says. “That was the one with the utopia free from men and marriage?” You nod, still too dizzy for words. “I would love to read your piece on it, if you’re comfortable with it.”

It’s as if you’ve been doused in cold water. “It’s not finished.” You know he means well, that his interest is genuine—most days you’re thrilled to share your work with him—but thinking having to show anyone the bland, uninspired analysis you’ve spent every shred of energy forcing on to the page and face their judgment makes you want to cry. “And it’s really bad.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it is.”

“It is. It’s horrible. Everything’s just horrible.” You actually are crying now—you can feel the tell-tale warmth prickling your eyes, even as you bite your tongue in a weak attempt to swallow it. You hate this. You hate this. You hate being this emotional little child in a world of adults, who can’t do anything without dissolving into a puddle of tears over the slightest and stupidest of non-reasons, who then has to endure the looks of confused pity, the way their voices jump in pitch to show their concern as they ask the age-old question: “what’s wrong?”

As if you know. As if you’d tell them if you did.

Loki, to his credit, doesn’t ask what’s wrong. He gives your shoulder another pat, a soothing sort of strength behind his touch as he kneels besides your chair.

“It’s late, love,” he says softly. “Writing will come easier after a full night’s rest. I promise things will be better in the morning.”

“You don’t know that,” you whisper. You want to believe him. Desperately. But to go to bed with unfinished would be a failure to meet your goal—a simple, perfectly attainable goal were you only a more functional human. You’re tired of feeling like a failure. You’re tired of waking up a failure.

Loki takes your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours with a squeeze. “Perhaps not. But I do know that forcing yourself to stay up when you’re exhausted is only going to make you feel worse.” He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Come to bed darling.” When you hesitate, he looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please.”

You inhale. “If I do, will you stay tonight?” You don’t say “I’m afraid to be alone”—that sounds too pathetically desperate, even for you—but you’re sure he can hear it in your voice just the same.

His smile is warm and relieved. “Of course.”

He waits patiently in the dorm as you shower and change. The one positive about waiting until the witching hour to get ready for bed is that there was no waiting for a free stall in the bathroom, so you don’t take too long. When you return to your room, he’s sitting in the Chair of Agony, thumbing through your copy of The Sonnets.

Loki clears his throat as you enter. “For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings / That then I scorn to change my state with kings.”

A beautiful shiver runs down your spine. Loki reading poetry, Loki reading Shakespeare, is nothing short of transcendent. His voice has a honeyed richness that seems handcrafted specifically for those sonorous words. He leaves you awestruck every time, and he knows it too—you see the self-satisfied smirk tickling his lips as he follows you into bed.

Your twin bed is probably too small for both of you to fit comfortably, but you don’t mind snuggling up against Loki’s chest like some clingy sloth creature, and he doesn’t seem to mind either, given how he pulls you close at first opportunity, stroking your back as the beat of his heart lulls you into a trance.

The minutes tick by in silence, and you’ve nearly drifted into slumber when he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

You glance up with a frown. “For what?”

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you lately.” There’s a heaviness to features that you can’t bring yourself to address.

Glancing away, you swallow. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“Still. I wish I could help you.”

“This is helping.” You mean it, too. He might only be a temporary fix, but everything seems safe and far away in his arms.

“Good. I’m glad.” He tips your chin so you’re looking up at him again, sparkling eyes that seem to shine even in the dark. “Just remember I am here. Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I’ll be here. You need only ask.”

Your eyes are prickling again, but for a much different reason this time. You sigh, nuzzling against his shirt like a sleepy cat. Loki kisses your forehead, and you melt into the feeling of his lips lingering against your skin.

“I love you,” you murmur. You’re not even sure you actual said the words until his gentle whisper sweeps over you in return.

“And I love you, darling.”

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki marvel #loki fanfic #comfort fic #burning the midnight oil #cozy writes

[det-loki]

poison & wine pt. one

 “I know everything you don’t want me to.”

warnings: angst, cursing

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 1,378

A/N: I’ve read and reread what seems like every detective loki fic and I’ve decided it’s my turn. I’m still relatively new with writing series, but I’m very proud of this. Enjoy, feedback is greatly appreciated! (if you find a grammar mistake, let me know)

REWRITE MASTERLIST

⌽  2  3  4  5  6

You hated the rain. It was cold and wet, always sending a bone-chilling cold through you. It reminded you of too many bad memories. Hospitals, pain, and blood. Yet all it seemed to do in Conyers was rain.

You sat across from Loki while you were toying with your fried rice inside of the vacant restaurant. This was yours and Loki’s spot, always seeming to end up here at least once a week for the past five years. You grew to hate the food but it was a constant in yours and Loki’s life and you refused to mess that up. Too many memories have been made in this shitty restaurant, good and bad.

 Neither you nor David cared much for Thanksgiving and you couldn’t be bothered to cook for just the two of you. It was too depressing, so Chinese food it was. The waitress came to your table with the check and hot tea, Loki reaching for the check before you could. Not once has he ever let you pay for a meal. Even when he could barely afford socks. 

“Happy Thanksgiving, detectives.” You wondered if she was waiting on you two to leave for her to go home to relax and celebrate the holiday. You felt bad, considering you and Loki were the only ones there, like usual.

Loki mutters a ‘thanks’ into his coffee cup before continuing, “Do you have any of the fortune-cookie things?”

The waitress looks at Loki with a smirk, “My boss told me cops don’t like fortune cookies.” Classic. 

David looks down at the zodiac placemat, “What year were you born? Are you a dragon, or a snake, a horse, or a sheep?”

“I’m a monkey.” The waitress ogled David who was barely paying attention to her. You knew he would never act on her advances, he was too caught up in whatever the two of you were. Lovers, roommates, co-workers, family. He was everything to you and vice versa. 

Both you and Loki look down to read, Loki responds, “Oh, you’re a monkey. You’re very intelligent. You have the ability to influence people. Think maybe you could influence your boss to lower the check a little bit?” He was flirting. Sometimes you thought that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. It’s how he charmed you all those years ago. Both of you young and dumb; too young to know any better or any different.

The waitress brings you out of your head, “No, I cannot. My boss is a rooster.”

Again, both you and Loki look down to inspect as the waitress walks away. Selfish and eccentric. Nice, reminds me of Captain O’Malley.

Loki looks at you with a genuine smile before asking, “What’s your zodiac? I forget.” You loved it when he smiled, he didn’t do it enough. You couldn’t really blame him though, neither did you. 

“Well, considering it’s tattooed on your hand, I feel like you should remember. I’m a horse also a cancer, whichever way you want to look at it.” He had gotten the tattoos a month after it.

Loki laughs and looks down again, “Energetic, passionate, and aspirant. I’d say that’s pretty accurate for you.”

You laugh, “Yeah, what’s yours?” You already knew the answer, it was tattooed into your skin years ago along with two other zodiac symbols next to it. Never allowing you to abandon Conyers or David. You were forever tied to it all, inked permanently.

Loki looks at you, his eyes teasing, “I’m gonna give you the same line. Considering it’s tattooed on your collarbone, I feel like you should remember.”

Before you could respond, both yours and Loki’s phones interrupt with a call. Two missing girls, fuck.

The rain is coming down in sheets as you step out of Loki’s car. You pull your raincoat tighter as you follow David to the RV that was called in surrounded by cops at the edge of the woods.

You take your radio out of your pocket, “13-40 and 13-43 engaging with the suspect. Be advised.”

You creep along with Loki towards the RV as the driver revs the engine, tail lights flashing red against you. The RV violently backs up, Loki instructing everyone to not shoot. The driver changes gears, driving forward and slamming into a tree. You advance forward, gun in hand along with a flashlight. Arriving at the door of the RV, Loki takes your flashlight, “Stay here, keep watch.”

Loki entered the vehicle while you and other officers stood by, waiting. The door opens violently, Loki throwing the suspect out. The man stumbles as Loki takes hold of his jacket, dragging him further into the woods. You followed silently, letting David handle him. He never was gentle with cases when children were involved.

Loki yelled at the man with no response, only a blank stare. David shoved him forward, falling at your feet, “What the fuck is this guy on?”

 You take his forearm and haul him to his feet, instructing an officer to take him to the station while David called out for someone to call PSP. This case was already bad. Fear, and pain already settling into your bones. 

You sat in the interrogation room while Loki had the suspect, Alex Jones, backed against a corner. The interrogation had been going on for 2 hours and nothing useful has been said and Loki was getting impatient. You could see it in the way he squinted his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He needed a break before he exploded.

“Detective, let me try. Take a break.” Loki looks over his shoulder at you, frustrated. He knew you were right but he didn’t want to give up. With a hard sigh, he left the room. Alex visibly relaxed as Loki left.

You had your suspicions about Alex’s cognitive abilities by the way he was speaking, you wouldn’t be able to confirm until the psychologist arrived. Your best bet was to speak as if you were speaking to a child, “Alex, would you like to sit down with me?”

Alex nodded his head, slowly shuffling towards the chair sat across from you. He visibly trembled as he sat down.

“Alex, is it okay with you if I ask you some questions?”

Alex only nodded, “What were you doing today with the RV?”

Alex speaks softly, voice cracking, “Just driving.”

You sigh, “Yeah, I like drives. Was today a special day to drive?” You did not like drives, you preferred not to. David had always been the driver between the two of you. 

Alex shakes his head no. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. He had no idea what was going on, however, you quickly shoved that thought down, he was a suspect in the case of two missing little girls.

“Okay Alex, I’m going to step out for a minute to give you a break, I know this is all different and scary. Let me know if you need anything.” With that, you left the room. You turned towards the interrogation viewing room door where you knew Loki already was watching your questioning.

As soon as you step foot in the room, Loki snaps at you, “What was that? You were too soft, we won’t get anywhere with that.”

You scoff. David was good at his job but he had a habit of going too far, “No, I wasn’t. You scaring him speechless isn’t going to get us anywhere either. Let me do my job the way I need to and I’ll let you do yours.”

Loki knew you were right so instead of protesting, he went to go talk to the forensics team, leaving you alone in the room with your thoughts. This case was going to be bad for the both of you, you already knew that. You needed to keep your head on straight and keep composure, if you didn’t, this case was going to consume and eat you alive. It was bound to happen, your good luck as partners was going to run out one day and you hoped this case wasn’t it. 

You walk back to your desk in hopes to find David when you look outside to see it’s still raining. Stupid fucking rain. 

Taglist: @lexie-wayland  @whew-oh-em-gee​ @winterlavenderskysworld​ @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee 

#detective loki #detective loki imagine #detective loki x reader #david loki #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #jake gyllenhaal #poison and wine #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine