[ Charlemagne ]:

✠ —- The sarcasm of those words did not go unnoticed by the king, his expression bestowing the unamusement which resulted from it. “That I am — who is it that asks?” Although arrogance  was not a trait as dominant within him as it was  his father, still it was there and in times such as this saw the opportunity to resurface.

The young king looked less than amused, but not angry.

That was good. He knew how to read inflections, at least.  "My name is Loki, and I am but a humble traveller from the North.          --Very far north." Steepling his fingers, he continued, deciding to stroke Charlemagne's ego just a bit more. "Word of your success has spread even to my native lands, you know."

[ Malekith ]:

     ”Only a fool would attempt to decipher exactly what you are, my Dear Loki. And I mean that by way of the highest compliment.”    Their flattery it seemed, would never end, the to and fro that they had been engaged in since the King has set foot on the soils of Asgard. He rather enjoyed it, of course, to be able to parry the banter with a mind worthy of his own, unlike the countless, vapid fools that attempted to gain his sway on one too many occasions.

   With a slight shift of his hand, he caught hers, a fleeting embrace, long enough to swipe the pad of his thumb across her elegant fingers before he lifted his drink, one brow raising with all the eloquence of his well placed words as he cast a momentarily disparaging glance around the tavern before a snort of laughter bubbled up in the wake of the Liesmith’s words. One long leg wound over the other as he propped himself against the bar, his violet gaze dipping to his goblet as he tutted softly before placing one hand on his companions knee,     “I find myself inclined to agree, Loki Darling - But surely that can’t be the case. Why, we’ve only just arrived, after all.”

They were too alike, in mind, in ruthlessness, even in behavior. Loki was reminded of that, through their ongoing banter, through their matching of wit, through watching him cross his legs with almost the exact motion, the same grace, that she had, watched him lift his glass to his lips, mirrored the action herself --

       the resemblances were almost uncanny.  His fleeting touch sent electricity through her, and in reciprocation, she dropped her hand to rest on top of his, once it settled on her knee. She was not such a fool as to let her guard down, but with drink in hand and the Accursed at her side, she felt she could at least relax, just a fraction.  "You could almost call it paranoia - as if our presence itself brings about death." She brushes her fingertips across his knuckles, an act of faux tenderness as meant to invite whispers about the two of them as it is meant to entice the elf king. "It's an honor, really, wouldn't you say? I'm quite flattered."

[ Chris ]:

Generally, any number of Loki’s quick assessments could have been, probably were, true. Whether they were true for the reasons he thought, though… that was a different matter entirely. Plenty of people sought privacy, treasured what secrecy they could afford. Dante was no different, though he also wasn’t out surfing for another bed to warm for the night - not even a quickie in the undoubtedly tetanus-riddled bathroom.

No, his privacy, his secrecy, was instinctive rather than being put to a certain purpose. Years spent lying bred it into a person not to tell the truth on first glance, and Dante was rather picky about who he took the time to figure out was worth the trouble of sooth. Was Luke? Maybe later, but for the moment, the technopath had determined not yet.

He seemed pleasant enough company for a night shared over drinks, though, and his handshake was certain. That could tell a lot about a person, even if it was a bit cliche…

"Nnh," The mutant grinned, his brows lifting in idle curiosity, the pink tip of his tongue sliding over sharp-white teeth. "Maybe’t is, maybe’t ain’t. Turns out t’be, I’ll letcha know," He ‘promised,’ about as much of one as anything else he’d said during their short exchange.

"You got such a big, bad, l o n g story,” He drawled, his lower lip smudging the rim of his glass as he brought it up, his eyes slanted sidelong to regard the other still: “Let’s hear it.” 

Neither of them knew it yet, but their personal policies on disclosing the truth were uncannily similar. Years spent lying taught a person to not freely give the truth, of course, but they also taught one how to turn the skill into an art.  And Loki had been lying for many, many years. Lying was instinct. Lying was difficult not to do.  So it would be easy for him to weave a story together, one that would satisfy whatever curiosities Chris might have.  "Oh, will you be so kind? The worst thing for any man to be is tedious, after all." He let out a low chuckle, drawing his own glass of scotch to his lips, meeting the other man's sidelong glance with one of his own.  "Besides, when you say it like that, how am I to resist?          ...I am something of a refugee, you know. Not on the books. You know where Latveria is, don't you? That is what I meant when I said I wasn't from around here." He wasn't on the books, here, and that much was true- but the honesty ended there.  

[ Charlemagne ]:

ignobleking started following you

✠ —- His presence was demanding, that much was certain. Though Charlemagne could not quite place why. “Are you in need of something?”

"Me? Ah, no - I live only to serve." A grin, calculated and saccharine, to cloak the irony  of his words. "But perhaps you are. You are the conqueror Charlemagne, are you not?"

hi im here to ruin everything 

//It all started when itakemyselfsupercereal mentioned awful Christmas jumpers and then.. Yeah. I have no explanation. 

But down in his heart now He lays down his queer plans Against his brother and against his family Yet he worships his brother And he worships his mother But it's his father, he says, is an unfair man And he curses his mother And he curses his father And he curses his virtue like an unclean thing

"Malekith, have you forgotten the nuances of high society in your time away? Proper ladies do not imbibe, after all."    She chuckled to herself, letting her hand drop to her side, to rest on top of his, quietly amused at the contrast of his skin against hers. "But, of course, I am no lady.  I only pretend to be one." His was the same shade, she thought, as the skin she hid from the world. It was rare that she let herself shed the Asgardian veneer and appeared as Jotunn. Perhaps it was out of habit, perhaps out of shame, or hatred - though her hatred for the giants was no greater than her hatred for the Asgardians. Most likely, it was a combination of all three.  She wondered, however, if Malekith would want to see her that way, in all her bestial glory         -but not tonight. Perhaps on a different hunt.  Loki could feel the glances of the patrons on them as they entered, could almost taste the apprehension - what could anyone here do? Refuse to serve them? No one would dare.  She found herself perched on the seat next to him, legs crossed, the very picture of grace. 

"Terribly quiet in here tonight, isn't it, Malekith? You'd think there's been a murder, or something equally dreadful."

      “My dear, dear Liesmith; I beg you keep such promises for more secluded spots, lest I make a fool of myself in the public eye.'    The smile that had nestled itself in the corner of his mouth hardly reflected concern at the prospect as he shifted, one arm winding its way around her waist to draw he close as he stopped, not by much, of course, so his lips could brush her ear while the eyes of the Huntsman watched the swaying door and the subtle ambiance of a tavern ahead, punctuating the placid night with the raucous from within.       “Care for a dram, Darling?”

   It would be so simple of course, to simply select the prime morsel and coax them from the group - Despite the prolific status that each Mage held, their sway was far more legendary. Wicked tongues and superlative seductions nigh impossible to disregard.       “I’ll be cleaning your claws yet.”

   With a playful wink he stepped forward, silver hair ripping in a barely noticeable breeze as he wound his way around the door and into the muggy heat of the tavern, casting a curious glance around the patrons, scouring for his mark as he positioned himself at the bar despite the wave of silence that had crashed down on all present, the sea of eyes sweeping after the infamous pair doing little more than placing a self-satisfied smile on the King’s lips. He always did like a good entrance.       “Two wines - Elvish if you have it. The less of your Aesir mead the better.. It tends not to agree with my constitution.”

I keep waking up & expecting blood on my hands.

Moriah Pearson (via bandaidsandbattlestaves)

mun note: wow so there is a bit over 500 of you guys here and im crying??? because wow that is more than i’d ever imagined to get on this blog. when i first started here on tumblr i was so worried that maybe i wasn’t good enough to be on here or maybe no one would like poor little Arthur. honestly, i still kinda question it. but all of you lil shits are such great confidence boosters and reassurance; you guys being here really encourage me everyday. esp those who ive grown to cherish. there are so many great people and inspirational ideas that i’ve seen blossom around me and it has been such a joy in the few months i’ve experienced it. and since its close to thanksgiving, im going to go ahead and say that im so thankful to have met all of you, and i am so thankful that you’ve found and enjoyed the mess of feels on this blog <3 now without further ado, here are those close to me, those who are forever awesome, and those i’ve stalked since the beginning—

The Bae.

[ xgreatresponsibility aka thedevilsserenade aka hegetseven aka withoutatrigger aka rexumbram aka a whole bunch of other shit ]

okay this amazing person here is bae because she is just one of a kind. not only is she a great writer, but also a great friend. she’s been there for me a whole bunch of times and honestly i dont know how i’d live without her. she holds a very special place in my heart and i love her to death <3 <3 so go follow the shit out of all her blogs.

The Awesome-sauses.

[ xaedificare; captain-forgetful; torridusmilitis; stxinedtalents; imitxtor; xglastann; dxxthly; spandex-and-sass; tentatum; penrosexsteps; soundless-scout; decepticonsteeltrap; wickedgreensmile; hxndled; concussum; ignobleking; takenbyfire; provehefilimeedevi; thesecretofsalem; archangel-dimmock; readyforyours; thefallenangeljehoel ]

these knuckheads are the in the awesome magician’s club where everyone goes to hogwarts and fights in wizard wars! jk, but i mean, they are super cool and awesome and i love these guys too c: 

The Inspiration.

[ definitelyjapanese; ramencompatible; terriiify; parasiitic; treasonously; sorrowed-tripto-addict; bedeviil; scarredcoin; quippage (now batteredwebs); dontscratchthewalls; starxdouche; starkiisms; spacexpirate; veritii; hellblxzer; professionalbaba ]

ah, these are the ones i stalk hard. seeing them on my dash instills a happiness i cant quite explain. such quality helps inspire me to write, and i absolutely love them from afar because i am a shy lil shit and and wow ur all just wow okay b yee.

i probably have missed a bunch of people and im sorry for that; just wanna let you all know that i do love all of you very much and i am so thankful that you followed me <3 if any of you ever need a friend i am here for you, just drop a message or get my skype/kik. love you guys, and again thanks for following!

"He claims to see and hear all. And it is true, he can observe a great deal. But he, like every Asgardian, is prone to self-inflation. Even the Watcher has his blind spots, here and there. Would you like to chance a guess at who knows just the way to exploit them?"

It was nowhere near as easy as Loki made it sound, of course, and that was precisely why removing the guardian was high on his list of priorities. 

Let it never be said that Loki did not have at least some sort of plan.

"Heimdall?" Ronan’s knowledge of Asgardians was limited to very barebones details, but Heimdall was definitely on his radar. A slight, derisive smile attempted to break through his wary expression.

"Humans and Asgardians say that he is the guardian of a rainbow bridge and can see and hear all. He is the main guardian aside from Thor of Asgard according to our records." Having never met Heimdall, Ronan had his doubts of the Asgardian Watcher’s abilities.

    He neglected to reciprocate and give her another shove, certainly not because he is conceding any sort of victory, but because he knew all too well that this was a war that would end up with one or both of them on the floor, and one too many bruises. So instead he took the opportunity to move another few inches away from her when she sat up. --But then it was his turn to sit up, glaring at her in half disbelief, half outrage. "Splendid advice, Lorelei. Really. You should be matchmaker to the realm entire. Did you forget the wife? I know him. The second I get even a bit too close, it will be, 'oh, Loki, we mustn't. I just couldn't.' He's the righteous sort, remember?"

          She let out a wheeze as she is nudged with his shoulder, shoving him back in response before resting her head on his and snickering. The Aesir had been a long time friend of the other and it was no secret the feelings her trickster harbored for the other. Lorelei stretched before sitting up and snatching a pillow, hugging it close as she laid back down.

          “Uh-huh… Sure you’re not. Here’s an idea: introduce yourself and catch up,” She mused aloud, nodding along to her own words of advice. “—-then when you’re chummy enough, suck his dick. He’ll be so awed that he’ll come crawling back and you two can bump nasties.”

Loki was a face in a crowd, right now, and he could blend in, if he wanted to. But he didn't want to, he was a wolf in the midst of a flock of sheep, a league all his own, and he wanted this woman to know it. Her stature and stance demanded respect, but he wanted her to know that he was the one deserving of all the glory in the world.  Though he made a point of not looking directly at her, he could see her reach toward him, watched her hand hang in the air for a moment - though he spoke no words, there was the faintest glimpse of a smirk.  You would not dare to touch me. You have no idea what I am made of. "I think," he said, matching her tone, just as much venom, but with a hint of mockery, "that you are too stubborn not to try to. But we do not always succeed at everything, do we? And your kind is awfully subject to magic. Almost laughably so. In fact, I laugh about it quite often." At the other side of the crosswalk, the group of pedestrians began to scatter, going off in respective directions. He waited, just a moment, to see where she would turn, like a cat ready to follow the movements of the particular mouse it had set its sights on. "Men like us do not have to care about a thing in order to possess it. We simply crave the act of possessing. "

An instant too late, the light changed. As pedestrians filtered on past— ‘like lemmings, an exodus, fuck, fuck, fuck’, she thought— Tess went still and let them go on their way. They nudged and bumped into her as they filtered by, apart from those who unconsciously went out of their way to avoid skimming too close to the pair. Probably unsurprising: Tess towered over most of them, all sleek muscle and stillness. The man was in a league all his own: spun glass and shine compared to their baseness. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, and for all of a moment, Tess felt inadequate as the rest of them. Mostly, she felt ‘so done with this’, and ‘inclined to avoid inter-realm pissing contests. Her nostrils flared at his words, a flicker of rage overwhelming the fear meant to keep human beings alive. Terrible and stupid as it was, she reached out with the intent to grab his arm. Whether it was survival instinct or common sense that kicked in at the last, she stopped before she could touch him, hand hovering awkwardly in the air. She lowered it, stuffing both hands into her pockets as if she didn’t trust herself. 

"Do you think,” she asked lowly, “I wouldn’t peel away a brand anyone put on me?” He didn’t know her from Cain, so— probably. She sidestepped off the pavement, the frosty remains of dead grass crunching underfoot. ‘No one,’ she thought, vicious and spiteful and trying to hide that feeling from him, ‘owns me.' She shrugged, the gesture deceptively casual and at odds with the way she was gritting her teeth. “He doesn’t care enough about anything to mark it— he isn’t capable of…”

Tess went silent a second, as if searching for the word. All at once, it came to her: “Sentiment.” 

FORCE ME ON MY KNEES, WILL YOU