trexcharlotte

[trexcharlotte]

nobody has been there for me like the ‘x reader’ tag has been there for me

[trexcharlotte]

For the love of god please stop tagging ur OCs in the x reader tag!!! Cos that ain’t me that’s some random ass person with a name that ain’t mine!!! And that’s not what I go in to the x reader tags looking for!!!

[trexcharlotte]

Wounded Pride

Summary: When Bucky overhears you referring to him as not exactly being a badass, he over dramatically makes sure you don’t forget what was said. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Based on that one behind the scenes clip. If you know, you know…. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist

The Tower’s elevators were notorious for having a mind of their own. Sometimes they opened without warning, sometimes they took an eternity to arrive, and sometimes, just sometimes, they timed their arrival with the cruel precision of a sitcom writer.

You were mid-conversation with Sam, leaning against the wall across from him in the hallway, arms crossed, foot tapping. He was lazily scrolling through something on his phone while the two of you traded jabs to pass the time.

It had started innocently. A stupid debate about who on the team would fall apart first during a zombie apocalypse, which then derailed into who would be the least useful in a survival situation. You didn’t think much when your lips curved into a smirk and the words fell out of your mouth, quick and flippant:

“Bucky? Please. He’s more dramatic than cool.”

Sam’s head snapped up, eyebrows raised. “You sure you wanna say that out loud? Man’s got enhanced hearing and a long memory.”

You waved it off with a shrug and a grin. “Oh come on. He broods, wears all black and leans against walls like he’s posing for a noir poster. He’s not exactly a badass.”

The elevator dinged.

And you turned too late.

There stood Bucky Barnes, holding a paper cup of coffee, one brow already arched as if he’d caught the sentence at just the perfect moment. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at you with that unreadable, piercing expression.

Then his face crumpled into the saddest mock expression of betrayal you had ever seen.

“…What?” He said, softly. So softly.

It was the kind of “what” that sounded like he’d just walked in on his birthday party being canceled. Or found out the puppy he’d been promised as a child was a lie. His eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting, and he clutched his coffee like it was all he had left in the world.

Sam choked on a laugh and turned to the wall, hiding his face in his elbow as he made strange wheezing noises.

Your mouth opened, trying to find the right words. “I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

But Bucky’s expression was now carved from theatrical devastation. He didn’t even glance your way, just stared ahead, stiff as a statue as you and Sam entered the elevator.

“It’s fine,” He said with the grave seriousness of someone announcing their own funeral. “I’m not a badass. I’ll just go take knitting classes. Maybe open a flower shop. Maybe I am soft.”

“Bucky.”

He sipped his coffee. Slowly. Painfully. “Guess all those years of being a deadly ghost assassin mean nothing now.”

You blinked. “Okay, first of all-“

“I mean, I’ve only jumped out of moving vehicles, disarmed bombs, and taken on half a HYDRA base solo, but clearly, clearly, I should’ve worn sunglasses and played electric guitar instead. That’s what real badasses do, right?”

The elevator doors began to slide closed behind you, trapping you in his theater of sorrow. Sam was practically doubled over now, shoulders shaking violently.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered, smacking your palm to your forehead. “You’re worse than Clint when someone eats his snacks.”

Still, Bucky didn’t let up. He turned slightly now, just enough to glance at his own metal arm, as if questioning its very existence. “Might trade this in. Get one of those foam Hulk hands instead. They squeak.”

You stared at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

He finally met your gaze, lip jutting out in the most exaggerated pout you’d ever seen on a fully grown man. “You wounded me.”

And then, there it was, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You squinted at him. “You’re faking it.”

“Am I?” He asked, sipping his coffee with unbothered elegance. “Or is this just how it feels when someone you care about betrays you so publicly?”

Your mouth opened to argue, but no words came. You just pointed at him in silent outrage as Sam completely lost it behind you.

And Bucky? He leaned against the elevator wall, lifting his cup with a quiet, smug sip.

You didn’t speak the rest of the elevator ride. Neither did Sam because he had been too busy nearly hyperventilating with laughter. Bucky stayed committed to the bit the entire way down, arms crossed now, coffee now forgotten in one hand as he stared up at the ceiling like a Shakespearean ghost, pondering his tragic fate.

The second the elevator doors opened, you bolted.

“I take it back!” You called behind you. “You're totally a badass! King of brooding! Master of knives! Alpha of angsty wolves or whatever!”

But Bucky’s voice floated after you like a sigh in a funeral parlor. “Too little, too late.”

You groaned and turned the corner, only to hear Sam laugh again behind you.

The next few hours passed in relative peace. You figured he’d drop it. Bucky had a sense of humor. Dry as the Sahara, sure, but a sense of humor nonetheless. And you had apologized. Well. Kind of.

But when you stepped into the training room later, towel slung over your shoulder and water bottle in hand, you stopped short.

There he was.

Bucky Barnes.

Perched dramatically on a bench in the center of the mat, head bowed, posture slouched in such a carefully performed display of melancholy you almost applauded. His dog tags were visible today, glinting beneath his dark shirt. A single training knife spun in his hand like it had betrayed him, too.

You hesitated at the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Reflecting,” He answered without looking at you.

You frowned. “On…?”

“My failures. My illusions. The lie I lived under, thinking I was intimidating.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Oh, you are so full of shit.”

He looked up, expression completely deadpan. “Am I, though?”

You walked in slowly, water bottle dangling from your fingers. “You were never this dramatic back when we fought those mercs in Berlin.”

“I was trying to impress you back then,” He said in a pouty, exasperated tone. .

You nearly choked. “Excuse me-”

He stood slowly, rising with the look of a man preparing to duel at dawn. “No need to pretend now. I know what you really think of me. Just a washed-up ex-assassin who can't even scare a field agent.”

“I never said that!”

“Oh?” He said, pointing the training knife at you. “Then what did you mean by ‘not exactly a badass’? Hm? Let’s hear it. Please enlighten me.”

Your mouth flopped open, then shut. You walked closer and poked his chest with a finger. “I meant you're a different kind of badass! The slow-burn kind! The guy who doesn’t need to puff his chest and scream at the sky!”

Bucky tilted his head. “You think I scream at the sky?”

“That’s Thor, Barnes!”

He blinked. “…Fair.”

You turned, throwing your hands up. “God, why am I explaining myself to a man who eats plums and sulks like it’s a sport-“

Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and spun you fast and easy, like you weighed nothing at all, and you found yourself pressed up against him, back to his chest, your wrist caught gently in his hand.

His mouth was next to your ear.

“Still not a badass?”

Your heart stuttered. Your brain short-circuited. You hated how smug he sounded.

“…Okay,” You muttered. “Maybe a little.”

He grinned against your cheek. “Mm. Thought so.”

You shoved him off with a scowl, ignoring how warm your face felt. He didn’t resist, just stepped back with that same cocky smile spreading across his lips.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” You asked, grabbing a practice baton.

“Nope,” He said cheerfully. “But don’t worry.”

He spun his knife again with a wink.

“You can always make it up to me.”

[trexcharlotte]

Devoted.

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

Summary: Light Angst/Fluff (depends on how you're feeling lmao), Forbidden Romance trope, set during Thor: The Dark World prior to the Dark Elves attack on the palace. Reader plays a similar role as Sif.

Word Count: 606 (not proofread)

------------------------------------------------

Walking the long, open hallways of the Asgardian palace brought back memories from when we were younger. All the time’s Loki and Thor were chase each other and fight; all the tricks Loki played on Thor just to get a reaction out of him.

The god of mischief himself.

It was a shame what has become of him. Imprisoned for what would probably be the rest of his life. A real shame for such a promising warrior, but I guess his actions on Midgard did disturb the peace of the cosmos.

I moved calmly, but purposefully as I descended the steps into the Asgardian Prison. Each of the cells containing someone more interesting than the last, many of the faces familiar from the battles that I had fought alongside Thor.

“Loki.” I smiled, hands behind my back as I stopped in front of his cell.

“What lavish amenities they’ve provided you with,” I eyed the comfortable lounge chair and mountain of books he had sat in his cell.

“Well look who the cat dragged in,” He grinned that charming, scheming grin he always wore. He paused his pacing, turning to face me. His electrifying emerald eyes inspecting me.

“How’s prison life going for you?”

“As luxurious as it looks,”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

We stood there for a minute, grinning like idiots.

This was routine, minus the cell’s barrier that kept him inside the white walled room, the back-and-forth sarcasm had become as natural as eating. After years of fighting alongside each other, of growing up together, some habits die hard.

“What are you doing down here, hanging with lowlife such as myself?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering himself to the floor next to the barrier.

I shrugged, “Thought you might want some company,” I join him as I sat on the steps outside of his cell, leaning against one of the adjoining walls.

“That’s very sweet of you, my dear,” He spoke endearingly, relaxing into the conversation.

“I try my best, besides, how are you could you possibly live with such a cold heart if you don’t have someone to try and melt it,”

He rolled his eyes. I laughed.

The exact conversation that happens every time we met. A script we never got tired of, just like clockwork.

“I guess I can briefly live with your presence.”

“I don’t believe it! Has the Loki just admitted that he can tolerate me?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, soon enough I will shoo you away, it is a temporary exception.”

“Right, then I’ll be sure to spend this time wisely,” My smiled softened, his smirk grew.

They sat like this for hours, the cool floor of the prison against her skin, the floor of his cell under his palms. They spoke about everything and nothing all at once, just as they had all those years ago, it was like nothing had change. Only this time one of them sentenced to live out his days in that cell and still somehow struggled with the world on his shoulders, and the other who’d been willing to give her life for him going into every battle they’d fought together since they were teenagers.

Asgardians lived for thousands of years, either one of them could die at any point in battle, but she would proudly face that fate in every lifetime if it meant she would serve him. All because she was sworn to his side.

She was loyal to a man out of her reach; a man far focused on his own achievement. She admired his dedication and determination.

He was devoted to his cause, all the while she was devoted to him.

[trexcharlotte]

For the First Time

Pairing: MCU!Loki/Goddess!Reader

Rating: Domestic/Wholesome Fluff

Word Count: 852 (not proofread)

Song: For the First Time - Mac DeMarco

-------------------------------------------------

Her name had been whispered from every corner of the universe.

She was a myth. A Legend. A Goddess.

“It is a blessing to be in your presence, for I am but a humble servant compared to you.” He bowed deep, both knees to the ground.

She hummed as she took the sight of him in, a faint smirk played on her lips.

“The pleasure is all mine to behold, fore I never expected to have the God of Mischief himself at him doorstep. Nonetheless kneeling before me.” She chuckled, amused by how such an infamous god such as himself behaved.

“Stand now, before my ego dares to blossom,”

He rose slowly, steadily. The grin he held was ear to ear; his eyes were full of something playful.

“My apologies but being in the presence of the mother of All Beings is nothing short of a gift.”

“You flatter me well.” A warm smiled graced her features as she offered him a seat in her living room.

The cottage was small, quaint, but homely. Found on the outskirts of a small Italian village in Tuscany, it has the perfect peaceful atmosphere for a god like herself.

She was an observer. Her godly abilities granted her no aid in battles or physic. However, she was blessed to know all and care for those who couldn’t care for themselves. She gifted the greatest responsibility, perhaps the greatest curse. But they were always within her view.

Everyone was always within her sights. She saw all, past and future. Her visions were vague as it was more so accurate to say that she sensed the aura and lifeforce of all under her gaze. Anyone she wanted to find, she could feel.

All except one. The God of Mischief. Loki.

He was the only one she did not know. She knew he was hiding from her, she knew his name and his reputation, but she had never seen him. Felt him.

“For a man who hides himself from me, I’m surprised you have brought yourself to me.”

He gave a calculated, practised smile.

“How could I be deceptive and untrustworthy if there is someone who knows my every move?” It was rhetorical. Possibly sarcastic.

“You intrigue me.”

He hummed, his façade slipping as a fleeting moment of confusion crossed his face before he covered it with his signature grin.

“Why would I, a mere lowlife, hold the interest of a goddess like you?”

She swallowed. She might’ve been looking straight at him, but her mind wandered briefly.

The warm spring air blew through the window, the tickle of her hair blowing against her neck brought her back to the present.

“How could I not be?”

She paused. Hesitated.

“You are a God whose title entails adventuring, acting as one wishes. You are expected to be found with trouble, because you are the trickster and the no good thieve. The one who works only for himself, whose loyalties lie only on his own skill.”

“I am simply, captivated by you. Believe it or not, you have charmed me without us having met before. I envy you freedom.”

He was taken aback. Shocked by this sudden confession. “If I may…” He spoke,

“You are, as the Earthlings call you, mother nature herself. That in and of itself is admirable. It’s an honourable title. To be seen as the mother of all things living, that is an endowment that I simply wouldn’t be able to handle,”

“My dear, you are in a position may gods wish they could be in. Worshipped and appreciated by all, you are a known pacifist that no god dares to challenge. Not even myself.”

She raised an eyebrow at his statement.

“Not even yourself?”

“I may not be trustworthy or reliable. But I would never wish harm upon you, my lady. You may not be the goddess of beauty, but Freyja herself must have blessed you.”

She gave a shy smile as a momentary wave of silence fell over the two of them.

“What are you doing hidden away here?” Loki questioned; his tone like that you’d use when trying to coax a small cat to come closer.

“I like this planet. Earth is… diverse. So many people here have a choice. They each live their own unique little lives, each as special as the next. I enjoy how you can find both busy, bustling streets that are full of life, as well as quiet, peaceful places such as this one all on the same planet.”

“That’s… an interesting perspective.”

“I’m sure you think so, Mr. I planned to take over this planet not long ago.”

They both grinned.

On both of their contrasting paths, they still managed to find one another.

She hoped it was this way in every reality.

He knew of nothing but this reality. This moment, where all he knew was she was the Goddess who drew him in like a magnet no matter how hard he tried to keep himself away. He ended up exactly where she had hoped he’d be.

 In her living room on a warm spring afternoon.

[trexcharlotte]

Erm guys where are my atla live action Jet and Zuko fanfics?🤨

[trexcharlotte]

I don't give a shit as long as those in need benefit

[trexcharlotte]

The TikTok-fication of Tumblr and why it needs to stop before your fave writers are gone for good:

1. “Part 2??”

Unlike TikTok, writing 5,000 words for a fic does not happen in 6 seconds or more. Weekly updates are from a writer who spoils you and is passionate about their story. Don’t kill the passion by demanding for more and not appreciate what’s already given.

2. The DC Conundrum

Many writers on this platform hail back from the ff.net days where dark content is a norm, not like TikTok where even death has to be censored or you could get flagged.

Despite that, writers are doing you a service by sharing fic warnings despite how it may take away from a plot twist or a big reveal. However, there’s a fine line between sharing warnings and downright spoiling our own work. Heed the warnings, don’t be a dick. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Learn how to filter your own content, too, while you're at it.

3. The Wild Algorithm

Unlike TikTok, Tumblr’s FYP is not in your face and you have a choice to not view it. Content often gets buried a few days after it’s posted without reblogs or comments to keep it alive.

4. Passive Content Consumption

Ties back with point #1. If you’re only sitting back and reading works without supporting the writers, they can’t spend 6 seconds to conjure up a fic. Writing takes time, editing, proofreading. Tumblr is a book club, not a delivery service.

5. De(constructive) Criticism

If an opinion isn’t asked for, don’t give it. Many writers choose this craft for their own enjoyment and to share a thought or story about a beloved character to those who love them, too. If an opinion is asked? Be kind when you share it across to them. No one likes their hard work to be shat on by someone who doesn’t understand the time and effort it took to create this piece.

6. Are You My Content Machine?

Again, back to point #1. Writers have busy lives. There are days when we want to scream into the void about our favourite characters. We want to share our thoughts about them or sometimes, we just want to talk about what happened during lunch break. Demanding and expecting that a writer post content without giving a shit about the soul behind the screen? Dehumanizing.

Don’t ruin the experience for those of us who are still here. Do your part to make fandom better for everyone.

[trexcharlotte]

[trexcharlotte]

Good morning everybody

[trexcharlotte]

Near Tumbleweed.

[trexcharlotte]

It’s important to recognise that Barbie (2023) criticises both the patriarchy AND the matriarchy. Yes, the Ken’s are just accessories to the Barbies. Yes, they don’t have any say in the government they live under. That’s the point, you’re supposed to feel awful, you’re supposed to want the Kens to have their own agency, you’re supposed to want equality. The Barbie movie explicitly states that the way Barbie treats Ken is wrong, so much so that once he finds a safe space for his masculinity and individual identity he’s so excited to share it with the other Kens.

But they go overboard and replace a matriarchy with a patriarchy and now the same issue exists but in reverse. That’s the POINT!! THATS THE POINT!!! Barbie is not anti-men it’s pro equality PLEASE understand this

[trexcharlotte]

[trexcharlotte]

PSA: bot comments are taking over ao3

The above examples have been provided with the authors' permission to demonstrate what these look like.

Basic rundown:

They are all 3 sentences long

Perfect grammar, capitalization, and punctuation

Like absolutely flawless English teacher-style writing with only a single exclamation mark, ever

No mentions whatsoever of character names, settings, situations, or anything that could be tied to the story

The usernames may be identical to people who exist on ao3, but the name is not clickable, and no profile is associated with it EXCEPT when you directly search for that name. What this means: the comments come from an unregistered (not logged in) reader, bots scrape the site for real usernames, attach that to the comment, and post

Please spread the word about this so authors can filter comments and report them accordingly

There has been some speculation about why this is happening at all, and the best guess is that this is a feature that AI-training story-scraping tools are implementing to try and make their browsing traffic look legitimate

[trexcharlotte]

do me a solid and just reblog this saying what time it is where you are and what you’re thinking about in the tags.

[trexcharlotte]

the urge to speed write a general character x read fic where the reader is gn and the character isn’t described or specified just so i can go back and reread it with a different character in mind every time

[trexcharlotte]

sometimes i think “why my writing is kinda shit” and then i remember my divergent fic that i thought was the best thing ever and was actually the best representation of “classic wattpad writing” Ive ever read