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Send my muse “👀 + a question” and they’ll have to answer with 100% honesty.

No deleting questions, either!

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@ofresolutc

It’s a quiet existence, his new living quarters.

Never could any residence rival the joviality of Asgard’s halls, but these apartments are so still, Thor sometimes wonders if anyone lives here at all. 

A month ago, he’d seen evidence of live in the form of a young man moving in across the hall, though, so that theory’s been disproven. Things stayed quiet, but Thor has seen him enough times to have his interest piqued. Walking by when he’s gotten take-out, or when he’s spoken to their landlord - the man never seems to carry money, and no one ever seems to take any from him. 

In fact, no one seems to pay him much attention at all. 

It’s an odd observation, and once Thor realizes he’s made it, he immediately tries to shake the thought off. It's this place getting to him, making his mind malleable and paranoid. 

One evening, as he comes up the stairs after a couple hours of jogging, he almost collides with the man in question. Tall with loose brown curls that stop just after his ears, the man is a presence almost as much as he himself is, no matter how hard he tries to be the opposite. 

“Evening,” he says, because he’s been trying to make a conscious effort to actually be friendly. Plus, he’s curious about the guy. 

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In this universe, I’m not sure if I’m going to survive this. In another universe, I’m already dead.

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talentedliarloki:

In his delightfully un-humble opinion, everything on the forsaken realm of Sakaar was a bit much, bordering on being exhaustingly extra. The festivals celebrating the brutality in the gladiator ring never sat well with the trickster and not because he couldn’t stomach the sight of two individuals being pitted against each other in a fight to the death (in spite of the odds being unfairly balanced in the favor of one large, green, and pissed off contender).

Rather Loki found it unsettling because he was not unfamiliar with facing opponents alone with what seemed like the world as an audience.

And perhaps it had only ever been Odin, or their mother, or Thor…but that felt like the world to him. For a time, that is.

Now, standing opposite Thor as he pulled the chains apart as if they were made of paper mâché, Loki didn’t view him as an observer but rather a participant. Whether they liked it or not, they were in this together…for better or for worse.

As the fractals of metal pitter-pattered to the floor, Loki broadened his stance and stood a little taller, his own onyx wings expanding defensively; an attempt to make himself appear larger.

“I always was,” Was it possible to be sincere and scathing at once? Rainbows rippled in the oily black of his feathers, a stark contrast to shine of gold in Thor’s own plumage. The reassurance of truth was an easy target at which to aim when he’d known, all along, their relationship was founded on lies. “Yet here we are regardless.”

It used to be easy, believing Loki’s words. The title his brother has gained isn’t what created the seed of mistrust that bloomed impossibly fast; he’s always been silvertongued, but rarely was it used against him. Even as boys, when he would delight in the way Loki sewed words together to get them out of all manner of trouble, he never once thought one day he would question the truth behind their exchanges. 

Loki rises to his feet among the broken chains, wings rippling in the bright light of the room. Sakaar is not a shy world, shining light on every nook and cranny, and it treats Loki’s wings with singular beauty, much as Asgard does: though his feathers were darker than any he’d ever seen, when they caught the light, every color could be seen glinting in the depths. He’d envied their beauty as a boy, but that’s changed to admiration.

Thor’s own golden feathers, mangled and flightless but still bright, flatten at his brother’s words, his arms following suit and crossing over his chest. “Once, maybe,” he says, and his voice is rougher than he expects. “Now, I never seem to know what you’re thinking.” It’s a concession, not an accusation. 

“Come back to Asgard with me, once this is over.” 

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#bi & fashion icons

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💤

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Sonnet.18 

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#proud siblings

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Shockingly I, too, feel we were deprived of an on-screen hug

[please do not re-post to other sites]

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wanting to interact with other blogs but getting anxiety because they’re Cool™ and you’re a piece of lettuce is a very interesting thing to go through every day

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You’re a Valkyrie!

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“The perfect video doesn’t exi-” Credits to Voordeel on YouTube for creating this amazing and perfectly timed video

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A Look™

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The suit and I are one.

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spiderlingman

“Oh.” He heard Thor come in, of course he did. Though lately it feels like he’s encased in a layer of cotton when he’s by himself. Somewhere between numb and shaken by…everything. He’s still too scared to think too closely about any part of it.

Because everything’s okay now, right? They won. Tony and the original Avengers saved the Universe, and everyone who turned to dust came back, so there’s no reason for Peter to still have nightmares, right?

“Thanks.” He croaks, wrapping his hands around the mug with as convincing a smile as he can manage.

The boy’s somber attitude isn’t surprising in the least, but it does clench something in Thor’s chest. It’s never good enough just to be alive, not when the memories of pain are still fresh in your mind. Problem is, Thor doesn’t remember how it felt, how to help. He knows loss like a second skin, but he hasn’t known this particular flavor of pain for centuries. 

Then again, nightmares are something they can all relate to. 

Touching is something that’s second nature to Thor, but he holds his reach, leaning a bit forward instead. He doesn’t know what exactly happened on Titan, after all. “I don’t know if talking helps,” he says, then takes a sip, the chocolate just barely missing his facial hair, “not with this, anyway. If you ever want to, I’ve been told - well, actually, I’ve been told I never listen, but I’d like to think I’ve gotten better at it.”

He smiles, eyes tired. “Or maybe you’d rather listen? I’d drown you in mead if I thought it would help, but I’m also fairly sure you’re not quite old enough for that yet.”