#v: I was born with a spirit running wild; I've got to go on further than I've ever gone

[emeraldxphoenix]

A little birthday something for @wildcxrds continued from here

A smirk, half at the situation, half at the cute little eyebrow wiggle Alex offers them. Does she know they know it’s her birthday? Hard to tell. Jacob had told them a few weeks back, had explained the normal celebration of Midgardian anniversaries of birth and hinted, pretty unsubtly, that his mother would appreciate the day being recognised. And when has Loki ever been one to disappoint when it comes to gift-giving?

“Now that would be telling, my little witch.” An elegant finger fondly curls a lock of her hair around it. “And telling would mean it isn’t a surprise.”

[emeraldxphoenix]

possibly surprise starter for @othunderous

Reality coalesces around Loki, the jagged opposite of the last thing the god felt before she had faded away to dust. Blood coats her arms and the hem of her cloak, dagger gripped firmly in her left hand and a spell half-way conjured in her right. Pain crackles up her spine, down the side of her left thigh and throbs across her chest. Feet stumble forward until she hits the ground on her hands and knees, lungs shakily gasping for air – one amongst hundreds of the newly reformed. What just happened?

A short time later – far too short, in the trickster’s opinion – she is crossing through a portal from one side of Midgard to the other, in step behind the tree and the man with the metal arm. She doesn’t have the full story, probably not even half of it, but the other warriors here have assumed that she will help once again, and she has made no objection. In the end, it is the sight of Thor – alive, but much altered, and foolishly vulnerable in this mangled wasteland – that has her feet planting themselves shoulder-width apart, and her knees bending in a ready stance. 

Loki did not fail to protect her brother last time; she does not intend to fail now.

[emeraldxphoenix]

@lightsiided contined from here

A shrug. Joking about a pregnancy is nowhere near as beneath Loki as it seems to be beneath their sister-in-law, but then the trickster’s parameters for what is acceptable have always been skewed. Loki loves Rey’s children. Loves them more than they ever thought possible – especially with their, at times unfortunate, experience of family. Loves every smile, every hand that reaches for them, every act of minor destruction (deliberate or accidental). Still, having four is a bit much, isn’t it? Or is it perfectly normal? The god has to concede that, realistically, they don’t have a clue.

“I never said it was bad news, I just didn’t think you were serious.” Fingers reach out to their nephew, wiggling and glowing a soft green in an attempt to gain his attention. “Though I’m not sure that keeping my brother busy would be considered the ‘right’ reason to have another child. Can’t you get an animal for that?” Seeing Freyr begin to lose interest in their fingers, Loki reaches out both hands and plucks their nephew from Rey’s arms. Eyes briefly flash emerald, summoning the illusion of a small snake into the toddler’s hands, green and black body wrapping round pudgy fingers, sliding away out of his reach as the boy squeals and tries to grab at it. “On second thoughts, don’t do that; an animal would smell worse than Thor.”

It’s all front of course; anyone with eyes can see how much the God of Stories adores their nephew and nieces, and would gladly welcome another into their life. But speaking plainly of their feelings has never come easy to Loki. Even after all this time, concealment and misdirection come easier to them than honesty. Perhaps it’s just who they are. Hopefully Rey understands.

Hands busy themselves with adjusting their hold on Freyr, allowing Loki an excuse to direct his “you know I’m pleased for you, sister,” to the floor instead of the woman in front of him. They avoid eye contact until the toddler is settled against one hip, supported by the god’s right arm while he plays with the serpentine illusion, and until their right hand is halfway across the space between them, heading for Rey’s stomach. Then their gaze lifts, tongue escaping to wet dry lips before they speak. “May I?”

[emeraldxphoenix]

@survivorofhellskitchen contineud from here

Narrowed eyes carefully examine the woman in front of him, from the way her fingers gently grip his open hand, to the way her gaze remains fixed on his injury, to the thoughtful tilt of her head. She’s a curiosity, this Karen Page; bold and fearful, brave and reckless; she knows who he is and still offers him aid. And then there are those lips on his palm, unprompted and unexpected, laced with a meaning he can’t quite put his finger on.

“A skrull caught me unawares. Foolishly it decided to fight rather than flee.” Fingers stretch outwards, opening the cut a little further so the god can dispassionately examine the blood that oozes from it. “We bruise and bleed and die, just like you mortals – the difference is that we can endure greater injury, and we heal from them quicker.”

Gaze lifts to hers, eyes bright with curiosity, and with appreciation for their closeness. “If you have something to clean it, then I can take care of the bleeding.”

[emeraldxphoenix]

@kahterina continued from here

Loki returns her displeased look with an entirely unbothered expression. That look doesn’t work on them anymore. “Darling you know you can’t play the age card on me as if I were some sort of mortal.” Nimble fingers lift their glass to their mouth, coating thin lips in a deep red they choose not to brush away.

Hand reaches out and twists, pulling a set of keys from their pocket dimension and suspending them in the air above their palm. They nod in the direction of the red ferrari parked across the street from the cafe they're seated at. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in a repeat performance? Perhaps preceded by a little trip?”

[emeraldxphoenix]

@omniishambles continued from here

She’s losing her touch. That’s the only explanation, the only conceivable way this mortal managed to seize the advantage for long enough to dump an entire can of disgustingly sweet liquid all over her boots while she slept. Sure, she’s been pranked by Thor before, but the thunderer is at least her equal, and has had centuries to learn her ways; being caught off-guard by Peter Quill is nothing short of humiliating.

“Watch your words ‘Star Lord’, before you learn to regret them,” she snarls, taking an intimidating step into his personal space. “Or have you forgotten that I am a god?” Long fingers extend and emerald shimmers around them, pulling into existence a small swarm of bees who take an immediate interest in Peter. Another roar of laughter from behind her – apparently everything about this situation is hilarious to Thor – and with a further pulse of magic, Loki transfers the mess on her boots to her brother’s. Let the bees enjoy that.

[emeraldxphoenix]

@mxndwitch said “With all due respect, which is none.”

“Excuse me?” Head tilts, offence clearly written across the frown-lines of his forehead and downward tilt of his mouth. Loki is, unfortunately, well used to such insolence from Midgardians, which is why he is so quick to remind Wanda Maximoff of the true state of affairs. “A powerful witch you may be, but it would serve you well to remember that I am a god – and such status demands respect.” A sneer curls at Loki’s lips, the trickster incapable of resisting the familiar urge to prod at people’s bruises until they snap. “Or has your grief made you forgetful?”

[emeraldxphoenix]

@omniishambles continued from this absolute masterpiece

The question is carelessly flung out into the empty space between them, designed to irritate the furry creature who always seems so annoyed at everything. However, even Loki would never have anticipated such a delicious reaction.

Their eyes widen, the picture of surprised faux-innocence, upper body leaning back as if pushed by the ‘unexpected’ outburst. “Well that’s clearly touched a nerve.” Tone grows condescending. “I can be a listening ear, if you need it?”

The innocent facade dissolves at the insult to their appearance, Loki unable to contain the laughter that bubbles up in response. “Hideous?” The god leans back further, lifting booted feet to cross them on the table before them. “My dear rabbit, I’ll have you know that my bed partners have always been more than satisfied with my appearance – perhaps your eyes are just not able to appreciate proper beauty.” Head tilts, expression curious. “Can you even see colours or is everything in black and white for you?

[emeraldxphoenix]

@omniishambles (Tivan) said: i’ve had enough of your snide insinuations.

“Oh I’m sure you have, but maybe I haven’t. Did you consider that?” It’s bordering on unreasonable, Loki knows this. Yes, the Collector has a well-established history of questionable morality, but then the trickster can hardly throw stones when she’s exactly the same. 

The difference, in reality, is that when Loki had fled to midgard she had expected sanctuary ( – or at least, the impression of it – ) from the war that rages across space, from the grief of losing everything she’s ever known. But instead, she’s come face to face with a refugee from that same war, who also holds a close blood-bond with a man she never wants to even think about for the rest of her (probably short) life. The fucking GrandMaster.

[emeraldxphoenix]

tagged post updated with new verse (also: tag drop)

[emeraldxphoenix]

@omniishambles (Peter) said: i just saved your ass.

An outraged splutter erupts from the god’s lips. “You did absolutely nothing of the sort! I had everything perfectly under control.” They flip the dagger they’re cleaning in their hands so the sharp point is directed towards their accuser, using the weapon to gesture with. Voice is predictably haughty as they continue. “In fact, I had them exactly where I wanted them. It’s hardly my fault you’re too dull to understand the masterful plans of a god.”