#i hate being a snob i really do but if you're going to make claims about what's in the bible in greek you should learn ENOUGH greek | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

olderthannetfic · 2 years

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Sorry if someone has sent an ask on this but I have a topic for discussion I think you would like. So I've been seeing a lot of Tumblr posts that fall into two categories: "I hate X thing, I can be as loud or public or insulting about the people liking it--up to and including calling the people who enjoy it Bad People--as I want and if you don't like that you're a oversensitive baby!" And "wow it would be nice if people stop shitting on this thing I hold dear so openly, sometimes in official tags, and sometimes even irl to my face knowing that I like it"

Like I understand it's one's own tumblr blog, you can say whatever you want on it and nobody is required to engage. But I have a fan focused blog and any deviation from the exact tags or following the exact right people I see constant posts degrading something I hold dear or even casually like as immoral, Problematic and therefore you Must Not Engange or as Bad Quality And Unenjoyable. Part of it is just Tumblr culture being contrarian and snappy lately. Part of it is learning new ways to cut down who I follow, for instance unfollowing people who I otherwise like but make fun of fanfiction increased the quality of my feed a lot.

But I had a friend who mentioned a song they like and hold dear and their other friend immediately went into how it's morally wrong because it's "capitalizing on someone's trauma" which is a wild and baseless claim in context and just rude?

My question is: why do people think insulting something, especially if it's popular is always appropriate and right?

I've even seen people say it's wrong to be offended by this because "people these days see their interests as extensions of themselves" (implied that they shouldn't)

Also do these snobs just leave any conversation irl when someone mentions Marvel movies? Do they refuse to dance at a party when someone plays a pop song?

Anyway rant over. Thoughts?

1. Bold of you to assume they socialize offline or that they're brave enough to get in someone's face when not hiding behind a keyboard.

2. Honestly, 99% of all this is an issue of social media formats that have reblogging and site-wide tags.

Look, I know we all love reblogging, and there are positives to this format. The biggest one is that you don't have to constantly produce substantial content in order to have something for your blog.

But the downside is that the tags are used as both a main feed for people who like the thing and each blog's personal categorization system and an accurate label for a rant post about how the thing sucks. Social conventions might separate these things a little, but tumblr is designed in a way that conflates them.

A lot of this has more to do with the failings of a tumblr or twitter type format than the failings of any given person.

But...

3. Why do people think hating on shit is awesome?

I think a portion of it is that really popular things one hates feel like they're getting shoved in one's face constantly, so people lash out.

But far more of it is a general toxic geek thing of thinking that being sniffily superior makes you sound smart.

Sadly for them, it does the opposite.

Talk to any cinephile douchebags offline, and they'll happily shit all over all sorts of films that aren't up to their ~standards~, often while showing how ignorant they actually are about cinematography, editing, and any director who isn't part of that 70s new hollywood movement.

Loving things, especially with extreme earnestness, is the very definition of cringe for a lot of people because admitting something intimate about your taste means being vulnerable and unashamed. People who refuse to let go of their shame hate it when other people demonstrate that that's a them problem and not just the universal way to be. "How dare you exist as a [BL fan/writer of indulgent self inserts/fat person/GNC person/slut/weirdo/fan of schlock] and NOT FEEL BAD ABOUT IT????"

Hating on shit is safe.

Loving things in public means being vulnerable.

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gralunaisland · 2 years

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Gruvians are really condescending and always acting like they're better than anyone else, and that their fave is also better than all the other characters. At least that's the impression I get whenever I come across some of their posts. The old excuse of "The fans acting like this are only a minority, don't paint the whole fandom with the same brush" can only go so far. Not to mention I've never seen any of them acknowledge j*via's toxic behaviour.

I completely understand your pain and your beef with gr///vians. I'm sorry you've had to deal with the toxic ones; no one should have to.

As an Anti gr////via blog, I definitely get my fair share of condescension and hate from the Pros. Most of the rude ones talk down to me as if I'm a little child, or just come out the gate swinging with insults aimed at my intelligence and maturity.

I've gotten people who assume the worst of me and say I'm being b*tchy when I'm analyzing facts, or who put words into my mouth and claim I'm "talking for all stalking victims" and say to me "you should just shut your mouth because you haven't been stalked but I have so I get to say how people should respond to gr////via and I say gr///via is just the best" (as if that makes any sense), or who literally troll me and stalk my page despite me tagging things correctly just to comment immature and nasty things just to try and make me mad and to taunt me to block them when I didn't want to, or who hop onto my blog to mock me for all they're worth (which is decidedly not much) and then block me so I can't even defend myself etc. etc. etc...

Hahh that's enough examples. It could always be worse. :D

Anyway, I advocate for equal and respectful discussion and discourse, and yet so many Pros that I come across can't seem to find it in themselves to agree to do that. It's just sad for them, really. They're the ones stunting their own growth and making themselves look like idiots for thinking it's ok to insult and put down people for having a different opinion.

I will say, while perhaps the saying "don't lump everyone in one group" doesn't seem so true when you're constantly bombarded in the face with gr///vians who try to claim they're superior for liking a canon ship (happens way more than they'd probably want to admit, or maybe they consider it a good thing who knows), I would still refrain from saying all gr///vians are like this. I try to be just and fair even if the Pros who post negativity don't tend to be the same towards the Antis. I'm thinking it's just most of the vocal Pros who are the ones who try to cause a scene and insult everyone who disagree with juvia being an absolute queen and gr///via being OTP . It's definitely easy to think most Pros are bullies and snobs though, because that's what I have to deal with most of the time I deal with Pros anyway.

However, I've gotten a couple of good interactions with Pros. One kind Pro came into my ask box and told me that while they like gr///via, they understand some of her flaws and could see where I was coming from on some of my posts (here it is), and another was really sweet and civil who commented on my "request for discussion" post and who also acknowledged that gr///via isn't a perfect ship.

It's those people that I have a lot of respect for, that they can look at something they like objectively and criticize it, so I would never say that I hate all Pros or think they're all mean. Whenever I talk negatively in my posts about Pros, I'm always referring to certain niches of them who act like how I describe them in the particular post. There are plenty who do, but I don't want to use absolutes because most of the time they're untrue.

All in all, I'd just say try to be the bigger person. Do what the mean Pros won't do, like block the hashtags you don't want to see and steer clear from reading their posts and don't comment insults on their posts (not that you do these things of course). They may treat us poorly, but we don't have to reciprocate. We can prove we're better by being above it all.

Anyway, thank you for the ask!

#hope this didn't come off as too preachy #it's easy to want to insult back #i definitely get salty when i have to throw down with rude pros #but i don't ever insult #though maybe saying someone is being immature for harrassing me is an insult #or is it just an observation?~#ask #askgraluna #anti gruvia #anon #anti pro gruvians #anti pro gruvia #anti gruvia fandom #anti juvia #anti juvia loxar #anti juvia lockser #fairy tail

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chaotichedonist · 3 years

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Tharunka (Kensington, NSW : 1953 - 2010)

Wednesday 9 June 1976, page 14

Some funny moments to tease you into reading:

Press: Roger, you're noted for your amazing screams.

Freddie: It's a controlled scream. I'd rather call it art.

Freddie: You're joking dear. I'm just a singer, dear.

It’s been a struggle, because in the beginning nobody knew what we were doing. We were the only people who believed in ourselves.

back at the hotel sleazy

For all those fans who were misled by the media, Queen did not spend a couple of days-relaxing on sunny Perth beaches - it rained the whole bloody time they were there. (In Melbourne the hotel was 'besiged' by fans, who to quote Pete Brown — Queen's personal manager — seemed to be emerging from the wood work). Not to be put off however, by the Australian conditions Freddie Mercury (lead vocals and keyboards) attended the press conference in white pants and a simply sumptuous summer synthetic top with delicate butterfly sleeves curling gently over his shoulders. He was even more beautiful than Sophia Loren.

They were all quite chatty only Roger (Meadows-Taylor, the drummer) would keep interjecting, usually over John Deacon (bass) who said not an audible word.

Press: Would you describe your music as mock opera?

Freddie: They call it cock-opera back home.

Roger: I suppose because the vocals are in the 'grand style'.

Press: When is your next album coming out?

Freddie: We'll have a rest and think about it..

Roger: We just don't bung'em together.

Brian: We don't sort of write sitting in hotel rooms you know.

Freddie: We gather influences.

Press: Your music has been described as snob rock. What do you think?

Freddie: I couldn't describe our music as anything. We certainly don't put across that this it intelligent music that is on a completely differenrt level to the people who come to it.

Roger: It's written for the people. That's what it's all about.

Press: The theme of death recurs on your albums. Why this preoccupation?

Roger: Freddie's morbid mind.

Press to Freddie: Do you consider yourself a sex-symbol?

Freddie: You're joking dear. I'm just a singer, dear.

Press to Roger: Do you consider yourself a superstar?

Roger: As meaningless, (blows kisses).

Roger on the media - absurd for a magazine combine rock and politics.

Press: Roger, you're noted for your amazing screams.

Freddie: It's a controlled scream. I'd rather call it art.

Undauted by the fearless Australians they continued talking about their lyrics and the esoteric implication.

Roger: Freddie just loves the word 'Beelzebub'.

Freddie: Yes, well, Brian's got a taste for unusual words.

Roger: You talking about dandling on your knee and things?

All four of them write songs and each has at least one song on 'A Night At The Opera'.

Brian: It's very difficult to talk about our songs as a group because we all have different ideas of what the songs are about.

Roger: No we don't.

Freddie: Roger's the sensitive one. 'I'm in love with my car' is the most sensitive song on the album (Night At The Opera).

Roger did tend to sit there pouting at the bows on his pink lame gym-boots. One hardly noticed the dark roots in this gold angelic hair. We did ask, but unfortunately Roger didn't have a pic of himself in the gymboots. Roger was later accosted by David Essex fans in the foyer of the hotel, who wished to know if he was a popstar, girls now have Roger's autograph. Back to the lyrics..

Freddie: Every song is written by one of us and means something special to each one of us. Certain songs have a very literal meaning and can be understood straight away. Then there are some songs that can be taken on a lot of different levels.

He describes a lot of his songs as fantasies. 'We want to consciously lose ourselves. There are certain things we want to escape from in our lives or whatever.' He feels that people should create their own private fantasies from the images in his songs and so doesn't like to talk about what they mean to him. 'I'd hate to shatter someone's illusion. If I listen to somebody's songs I conjure up a fantasy of what its about and I like to keep it that way.'

He elaborated further.. 'Lyrically it is helpful to use certain words. You see it depends.. sometimes I want to use words that are phonetically useful. In the beginning they're surface words but you entwine them into the meaning of a song. That's what I mean about different levels.'

Brian May has a different approach to his songs, 'There's usually something serious behind them, but I feel a big responsibility not to over-indulge in idealogies. In 'White Queen' I was very interested in the significance of Queens and White Ladies in English folk lore. The song started off as a personal experience, the frustration of not being able to communicate, I was thinking about Robert Graves' ' White Goddess' and that became involved in the song.'

Roger: Romantic slush.

Brian: Our 'Now I'm Here' song is really about our first American tour. A big experience for anybody. It's a conglomeration of all the experiences we had on that tour. We had a great time with Mott the Hoople. I suppose they taught us to be a touring band.

We're very critical about each other and very cynical. We don't get deeply into meanings because you're living with it all the time. You have to be a bit light-hearted about it.

With four individual writers the albums were not done with a specific concept in mind. The 'White Queen' was written four years before the 'Black Queen'.

Brian: I don’t think that Freddie’s 'Black Queen' was a reaction to the 'White Queen'. We just discovered that we had these songs and the rest of the album seemed to fit around it.

Freddie: It probably subconsciously coheres.

Similarly ‘A night At The Opera’ has no overall concept though the name of the album is related to Freddie’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.

As Brian puts it ‘We are four very different people with four very different directions, but there is a musical development that does make some kind of sense. Queen is very much an independent thing. We are always bouncing ideas off each other. We are very aware that we need each other.’

The rapport between them onstage bears out this statement. They work off each other in a carefully intergrated show thatt creates an atmosphere of spontaneity for the audience.

At the opening of their set there is a flash of fire and smoke as Queen emerge on stage. While music winds up they launch into ‘Orge Battle’. Like a Greek God or a simister Mephistopheles Freddie's powerful vocals cut through the smoke and flames.

With the stage show the band is doing something different to stimulating their records. Brian: "You don't get up there and behave like you do in the street. You go up there to entertain people and give them some kind of excitement". They have rearranged some of their songs especially for stage performance, including a medley of 'Bohemian Rhapsody', 'Killer Queen', 'Black Queen' and 'Leyroy Brown', which grinds down into 'March of the Black Queen' and then skips out on a lighter note which features Brian on genuine Japanese ukalele.

The brilliant solo Brian performs in 'Brighton Rock', with sweet high Paginini frills and harmonies, stimulating two or three guitars on stage, is in a style he has evolved himself. He got the idea the first time he was in a recording studio. Says Brian: "It was my first experience of doing multi-tracking. It happened to be in the cannon-things which repeat themselves. You play one, then you play the same over the top of it after a time interval. Later we started to do those things on stage but there was the problem of how to do it. We started having a single delay and then another one over the top of it. Then afterwards you do another repeat on the second. You can then do three part harmonies with yourself. We started to base it all on ten second solos and it grew and grew. There's a lot of other people doing it now and I'm glad because it’s a thing you can play around with.'

In the stage arrangement of "Prophet's Song' Freddie uses a similar echo feedback system which multiplies his voice into a celestial choir. His voice floats as a vision - "Listen to the madman' - while Brian plays some beautiful guitar.

encore amore

Brian describes their encore performance as the time when the band really unwinds. "It's nice at the encore to just completely unbend and make a fool of yourself. It gets rid of the tension between the band and the audience. I used to get a kick out of going to concerts to see rock groups like the 'Who' and feeling involved, like the group knew you were there. WE go by the kinds of things we think people would like at an encore. It's at a very basic level really, an energy level, a physical level. Rock and Roll is kind of a body music. I get as much satisfaction out of basic rock'n'roll like Status Quo as the most sophisticated music I know.'

The audience certainly enjoyed it and really let loose their energy. Roger (who claimed the most female screams) in rainbow mop-wig opened the encore with slow heavy rock-beat as Freddie did a dramatic entrance in a silk kimino. As he eased into 'Big Spender', he peeled off to striped hot pants for an outrageous version of 'Jailhouse Rock' - simple hard-driving rock'n'roll that had everybody out of their sets.

gettin' feelin' thru th' transistors

Brian was rather upset that the Australian Press should braiid them as a manufactured band. If 'Bohmeian ,hapsody' can be seen as incorporating the spectrum of s talent - mood changes, heavy stuff, the soft ballad - it is not because they (men of letters from universities) have developed a magic 'X' formula. Rather the song can be seen as a musical progression, a reworking of motifs off their other albums.

Brian can only say that, 'They obviously didn't see us in the earlier days. I can understand why they'd say that over here. Big impact. Overnight success. It must have been all calculated. If you’d seen the way it happened in England, you wouldn’t think that. I’ve had years playing pubs in England where people were drinking beer and discussing what other people were doing and not listening to the music. I want to build up this thing where people do want to go to a concert. While it begins to look like the commercial side, it;s what it’s all about. I want knock it because I want people to come and hear what we do.

It’s been a struggle, because in the beginning nobody knew what we were doing. We were the only people who believed in ourselves. We started playing because we had some kind of vision that we thought was worthwhile. For over a year and a half we were playing to ourselves. Gradually you gather people around who believe and that’s the way it happened.

Nobody is going to tell us to play what is commercial. What we play comes from us. We’re very lucky really in that we have a kind of audience who are attentive to whatever direction we choose to follow. One of us will come up with a song and we'll say, 'Yeah, it needs that kind of treatment and maybe that turns out to be something you call heavy and sometimes something which is light.'

To get back to the charge that they are a manufactured band, while he doesn't like it, he can only take it as a compliment that they think the band is so good. He doesn't consider himself a technician "technically I've stayed the same for the last six or seven years. Progress is what you feel and what you are putting across. That's what playing is about for us.'

Freddie: There's a lot of music there too.

Roger: A bit of music, yeah.

low key queen

By Anne Finnegan

Wednesday 9 June 1976

If you save, do not forget to leave a link to this, coz i kinda found it by myself and made and transcipt. Thanks :)

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swaps55 · 3 years

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Fluffy writing prompt for Sam/Kaidan because I know you're going to need one sooner probably rather than later: HOT CHOCOLATE. With whipped cream? Marshmallows? Who makes it better? Straight or doctored? Do they even like chocolate??? (some people don't - I won't claim to even get that!) Is this an easier battle than coffee??? (ok, so not much of a prompt per se but hopefully something that inspires fluffy writing!)

I am combining this with your winter prompt for whipped cream on the nose. :)

Winter Asks

If y’all don’t use this as an excuse to argue your hot chocolate preferences I have failed as a person.

It’s dark when Shepard comes in from the barn, and the wind is stiff enough to yank the door right out of his hands. Kaidan looks up from his spot sprawled lengthwise across the couch, hiding a smile at the insulted expression on Sam’s face as the door slams shut with a whoosh of frigid air.

“Get outflanked by the wind?”

Shepard mutters under his breath as he shucks off his boots and shrugs out of his jacket. Underneath, much to Kaidan’s delight, is the charcoal sweater he’d picked up a week ago. It looks exactly as good as Kaidan hoped it would, in spite of the piece of straw stuck to Sam’s head and the production he makes out of clearing his nose.

“Why the hell do we live in a place where the air hurts my face?” Shepard demands.

Kaidan raises an eyebrow and tucks the fleece blanket draped over him a little tighter to seal out the cold. “Because I don’t think Echo would do well on a frigate.”

Shepard’s mouth curves in a grin, which only completes the sweater look. Hell, if he ever thinks he’s going to talk Kaidan into living somewhere that doesn’t require winter wear he’s sorely mistaken.

Kaidan doesn’t bother concealing his appreciation as Shepard makes his way over to the couch and kneels down to kiss his forehead.

“Hey, you,” Kaidan says, plucking the piece of straw from his head.

Shepard smiles a tender smile, which dissolves into a fiendish grin when he presses the backs of his knuckles to Kaidan’s cheek. Kaidan yelps in dismay and jerks away.

“How are your hands so cold?”

The grin gets bigger and more shit-eating. “Now you know how it feels, Mr. Necromancy hands.”

Kaidan makes a grab for him, but Shepard’s too quick, chuckling as he gets back to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere. Gonna go make something warm. Be right back.”

“Don’t set the kitchen on fire,” Kaidan calls after him.

“Fuck you,” Shepard replies affectionately over his shoulder.

“Warm your hands up first.”

Shepard snorts. Kaidan sets his datapad aside and settles back against the arm of the couch, content to listen to Shepard putter in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, shoving something in the microwave. Partly because he sometimes still can’t believe they have this kind of life now, but also because he really can’t put it past Shepard to do structural damage when heating up liquid.

Something does in fact hit the floor with a loud clang, followed by a swift and emphatic, “No fatalities, sitrep normal,” before he continues whatever he’s doing.

Kaidan smiles. So the love of his life can burn water. There had to be a flaw somewhere.

When he returns to the living room, Shepard carries two mugs in his hands and a can of whipped cream tucked under his arm.

“What’s this?” Kaidan asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m going native,” Shepard replies. “Aren’t you proud?” He hands Kaidan one of the mugs. Steam wafts from the rim, carrying the scent of something vaguely chocolate. A dollop of whipped cream floats in the center.

“You made hot chocolate?” Kaidan asks with genuine surprise.

“Nothing exploded, either.”

He sniffs it suspiciously. “What did you put in it?”

“Coffee grounds and pepper,” Shepard replies, waiting for Kaidan to rearrange himself to make room for company before sitting down beside him. “What do you think I put in it?”

“I’m just impressed you successfully boiled milk.”

Shepard wrinkles his nose. “Like hell. I just used water.”

Kaidan conceals a look of utter dismay before taking a hesitant sip. God, he probably found an instant pack somewhere instead of cocoa powder, too.

“It’s great,” he lies.

Shepard gives him a bemused look. “Uh huh.”

“Really great.”

“Is that so.”

Kaidan takes another tentative sip. “Mmhmm.”

“That’s not what your face says.”

“Oh really?” Kaidan asks with an arched eyebrow. “What does my face say, then?”

Shepard tilts his head. “It says ‘You did this completely wrong and I’m trying very hard not to show you how much I hate it because I love you and don’t want to hurt your feelings because I know you tried and I don’t want to ruin the moment.’”

Kaidan glares at him. “How do you do that.”

“What?” Shepard asks with a grin. “Was I right?”

“How do you do that?”

Kaidan’s nerves hum as Shepard’s corona kindles faintly. “Space magic,” he replies, before kissing Kaidan on the temple and getting to his feet. He offers his hand, static shock nipping Kaidan’s fingers when he takes it. “Come on then. Show me the right way.”

“I’m not that transparent, you know.”

Shepard chuckles, not releasing his hand. “Maybe not to other people.”

Kaidan smiles, wondering if Shepard senses it without looking. Knowing him, he probably does.

When they reach the kitchen Shepard gestures with one hand before folding his arms across his chest.

“All right. Impress me with your hot chocolate skills.”

Kaidan rocks on his heels, still feeling a little guilt for not just being able to enjoy the gesture for what it was, so Sam opens the fridge and hands him a container of milk.

“You said something about boiled milk? Which sounds disgusting, but I trust you.”

Kaidan takes it from him with a smirk, then digs out a saucepan. “Not quite boiled, but heated, yeah.”

“What else?”

“Cocoa powder.”

Shepard picks up a packet of instant mix that’s still out on the counter and waves it.

Kaidan shakes his head, chuckling. “No. Real cocoa powder. I have a stash in the pantry. I also need chocolate chips, sugar, and vanilla extract.”

“It’s hot chocolate. Why would you put vanilla in it?”

“It balances the chocolate.”

“This is already too complicated.”

Kaidan kisses him on the cheek on his way to the sugar canister. “Some things are worth a little patience.”

Shepard raises an eyebrow. “Are you insinuating something?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh.”

As Kaidan starts heating milk on the stove Shepard comes up behind him, arms circling his waist. A slow smile spreads across Kaidan’s face as Shepard plants soft kisses against up and down his throat. Kaidan tips his chin to give him better access.

“Something other than hot chocolate catch your eye?” he asks.

“So I like watching you cook. Or…brew. Or whatever. What do you want from me?”

Kaidan leans back into his chest. “More of exactly what you’re doing sounds nice.”

Shepard’s voice rumbles appreciatively in his ear, sending goosebumps down Kaidan’s arm.

The milk boils over. Kaidan swears under his breath as Shepard laughs and gets a rag. Kaidan dumps the remnants in the sink and starts again, though Shepard does his damndest to derail his efforts a second time. It’s only determination and spite that keeps his concentration on the pot this time, and he adds the cocoa powder, sugar and a dash of vanilla like someone who knows what they’re doing.

“Smells good,” Shepard mumbles, still working on Kaidan’s neck.

“Just wait until I add the peppermint.”

The kissing stops.

“The what now?” Shepard asks, tone guarded.

“Peppermint,” Kaidan repeats, sidestepping to the cabinet where they stash the spices. Kaidan keeps telling himself he’s going to organize them so he can actually find what he’s looking for, but never does. There’s a bottle of peppermint extract in there somewhere. He makes a sound of triumph when he finds it, only to turn around and find Shepard staring at him with narrowed eyes and arms folded across his chest.

“Why the hell would you ruin perfectly good chocolate with peppermint?”

“Why the hell would you pass on an opportunity to put peppermint in chocolate?” Kaidan counters.

“It’s chocolate,” Shepard protests. “Leave it alone.”

Kaidan chuckles. “Since when does the person who would eat plain white rice for the rest of his life have opinions on flavors?”

“Since you tried to put peppermint in my hot chocolate.”

“My mom likes it with cinnamon and cayenne,” Kaidan says, retrieving a clean set of mugs.

Shepard blinks. “Cayenne…pepper?”

“Yep.”

“I married into the weirdest fucking family.”

Kaidan waggles an eyebrow and prepares to pour into two mugs. “Okay, so you’re a chocolate purist. Fine. I can respect that. But I’m putting peppermint in mine. Where it belongs.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Bite me.”

“If that’s what you want, but doesn’t change the fact you’re wrong.”

Kaidan laughs, which makes Shepard grin. Warmth shoots through Kaidan right to his toes. That fucking grin, with that fucking sweater. Okay, so maybe he has bad taste in hot chocolate, but Kaidan’s still not sure how he ever got this lucky.

“Important question,” Shepard says, expression turning solemn. “Your stance on whipped cream.”

“That shit in a can?” Kaidan asks, wrinkling his nose. “No. Actual fresh whipped cream? Yes.”

“Well, unless you milked a cow this morning all we have is shit in a can, and if you take whipped cream off the table you might as well just kill me and get it over with.”

“Compromise, then,” Kaidan says, handing him a mug. “We can do shit in a can, but I get to drink my peppermint in peace.”

Shepard takes the mug. “I accept your terms.”

Kaidan stirs the peppermint extract into his own mug, then follows Shepard back into the living room. Before settling in on the couch, he flips on the fireplace. All they need is a little snow and they’ll have a proper winter evening.

Shepard snags the whipped cream can and adds an oversize dollop to his mug while Kaidan shakes his head.

“You are such a snob,” Shepard says.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

In response, Shepard squirts a dab on Kaidan’s nose. Kaidan swipes it off with a finger and rubs it on Sam’s cheek. All-out war nearly ensues until Kaidan wipes it away with a napkin. Eventually he raises an arm up so Sam can duck underneath and nestle against his chest. When they’re settled, Kaidan tugs a blanket across them. Between the flicker and pop of the fire, the damned good cup of hot chocolate – if he does say so himself – and Shepard’s warm body against him, there’s no place Kaidan would rather be.

Kaidan sets his mug down on the coffee table, then takes Shepard’s and does the same. Before he can protest, Kaidan turns his head and kisses him, soft, slow and tender.

“Oh, gross,” Shepard mumbles into his mouth, before pulling away with a look of distaste.

“Gross?” Kaidan exclaims. “Did you just kiss me and say gross?”

“You taste like peppermint,” he complains.

Kaidan narrows his eyes, then lunges at him, mashing their lips together and shoving his tongue as far he can into Shepard’s mouth. Shepard sputters, frees himself, and emphatically wipes his mouth, before glaring at Kaidan.

“You are the worst, do you know that?”

“I can’t believe you called kissing me gross. I’m a damned good kisser.”

“You are,” Shepard assures.

“You are lucky it’s me you get to make out with day in and day out.”

“Very.”

They stare at each other.

“Peppermint is gross,” Shepard informs him.

Kaidan’s eyes flick towards the whipped cream can on the coffee table. Shepard intuits his grab for it too late to stop him and Kaidan lands three strikes before Shepard finally deflects. An errant stream of whipped cream arcs through the air and onto the floor to go along with the dollop on Shepard’s nose, in his ear and on his forehead. As the can clatters to the floor Shepard pins Kaidan to the couch by both wrists, hovering over him with a smirk that would have flipped Kaidan’s stomach, had it not been for the cream stuck to his eyelashes.

“You have something on your face,” Kaidan says.

Shepard leans in and kisses him, sloppy and wet, doing his due diligence to share.

“Is that better?” he asks when they part.

Kaidan wipes at the whipped cream now smeared on his own forehead. “Little bit, yeah.”

Shepard grins and kisses a blob off Kaidan’s nose. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“Apparently enough to put up with peppermint.”

“That’s a lot of love, Kaidan.” Shepard tugs them both back upright and readjusts the blanket until they’re comfortably snuggled underneath, then hands Kaidan his hot chocolate before taking his own.

“This is why we live where the air hurts your face,” Kaidan says, leaning his head against Shepard’s.

Shepard takes another sip and draws Kaidan a little closer. “Peppermint is gross.”

Kaidan smiles. “I love you, too.”

#theoriginalladya #mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #my fic #fluff as far as the eye can see #the hot chocolate fic #are you TeamSam #or TeamKaidan #I NEED TO KNOW

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lady-loser-of-asgard · 6 years

Text

The Devil is a Woman Pt. 2

Summary: A Valkyrie betrays the throne after the war with Hela. She creates an alliance with the she-devil, but just after being released from the banishment along with Hela, she is thrown into another one with a raven haired mischievous god known as Loki.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Warnings: Thor Ragnarok spoilers, lots of death, self hate, betrayal, should be it I think :)

Please Read Part 1

[Not my pics again]

It is to be understood that there is a big difference between having an interest in someone rather than being in love, and at this moment as Loki and (Y/N) stomped their way through the rubble of trash of what would soon be announced to them as Sakaar, he was definitely nowhere near feeling in love.

"Darling although I must say you have such a wonderful voice, would you please shut the hell up!" Loki's voice suddenly boomed.

You stepped back in shock. Obviously offended by the command, you pushed past him and tredded up the last mountain of trash before your destination.

"'Shut the hell up'," you repeated mockingly, "you're such a snob and a bore, you know that?"

Loki rolled his eyes. After listening to you complaining about the stench and the trash and the strange slime climbing up your boot, he was just grateful to finally get you to shut up for a few seconds.

"You are quite possibly the most annoying woman I have ever met." Loki spat as he too began climbing the mountain, quickly catching up to your own pace.

You didn't answer him. You had just managed to raise yourself on the top of the trash mountain, quickly seeing the large city in front of you. Before Loki could even capture the view of the city himself, you sprinted down the mountain and into the city in a desperate attempt to free yourself from the stuck up prince. Loki was at a loss of words for the first time in his life. You had just tricked the trickster, and Loki could not bring himself to believe it.

If it weren't for the predicament you currently put yourself in, you would have patted yourself on the back. However knowing full well it wouldn't be that easy to be rid of Loki, you continued your run at top speed.

Pushing through hordes of people full of jabbing elbows and of course a stench worse than the trash you just left, you hurried into the innermost part of the city. Due to the crowd, it was only a matter of time before you were rammed into and forced onto the floor accidently (or purposefully, you would never know). Landing in front of two feet, you slowly eyed the character, praying it wasn't the prince you just left. When your eyes finally landed on the face of the man in front of you, you suddenly found yourself wishing it was Loki afterall.

"My, my, who might you be?" The man bent down and took hold of your forearm, helping you off the ground.

Immediately, two guards stood beside you ready to charge, but the man before you swatted them away.

"I am the Grandmaster. Who might you be?" He asked again.

Just as you were about to answer, an arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you close. "She is my wife, (Y/N)."

Wide eyed, you slowly moved your head from the hand on your shoulder to the raven haired idiot beside you.

"Loki?"

"Oh, hell no!" You whispered to Loki as you both trailed behind the Grandmaster and his guards.

"For once in your life, shut up, or you'll get us both killed!" Loki muttered back.

You were sure that being married to Loki was more out of spite than cleverness in his plan. You took in your surroundings as you walked. It was explained to you both that the Grandmaster was parading around the city, advertising for a certain competition that was to be held when you had happened to bump into him. According to Loki by claiming you as his wife and declaring himself a prince, you would both be safe.

"You know, I have yet to see a princess in armor such as your wife," The grandmaster mused, radiating suspicion.

"She was a captain of a specialised military group before we met. Her father and mine, the king, got along well, so he promised her to me." The grandmaster seemed oddly satisfied with the answer as he turned to meet your gaze.

"Well then, she certainly isn't just a trophy wife." He laughed as he led us through a tall building.

You bit your lip as a rush of anger flushed into you. If it weren't for Loki suddenly pushing you behind him, you would have struck the man in the face. "I am sorry to say that my wife and I need to cut our introduction short. You see, we took a great fall on our way here and need rest. If it suits your fancy, we would like to take our leave now," Loki excused. The Grandmaster had no problem and allowed his servants to lead both of you to your room. However, Loki knew being alone with (Y/N) would be the biggest headache he would ever have. Before he could even close the door to your beautiful gold room, you had already bombarded him with question after question. Loki was barely allowed to utter a single word, so he simply pushed past you and towards a bar in the lavish living room.

"What are you doing? I'm speaking with you" You inquired.

"If we are going to talk, then I need a drink." He stated simply as he poured himself a suspicious looking beverage. You were awestruck to say the least. This man had just declared you as his wife, and you were somehow promised to him. You were beyond mad. Part of being a Valkyrie was that it was forbidden to ever be in any kind of relationship, whether it be with a man or with one of your sisters. Even a matter of joking about it was taboo, so being Loki's wife made you feel terrible.

"Look if you had told him you were an assassin to the goddess of death, then you and all other Asgardians would be a threat. If I have any chance of surviving here, then you have to be kept an eye one." He explained as he massaged his forehead. He took a long swig of his drink. You hated to admit it, but he was right. In that situation, you would have definitely exposed your identity; however, he had stopped you back there.

Loki looked at you and noticed the obvious understanding but reluctant expression on your face. He smugly stepped away from the bar and positioned himself in front of you. He quickly wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close as he whispered in your ear, "Besides, being my wife should be an added bonus-" you cut him off by pulling a sword to his neck. "I would hardly call being with you a bonus. If you ever touch me again, I will cut your hand off." Again your threat failed, he saw right through it but still removed his hand. He would make sure you suffered just as much as him in this situation.

"You are still quite possibly the worst woman I have met, Love."

"What do you even mean by that?"

"Wh-What do I mean? Look at all this mess!"

You looked around the shared room of yours and Loki's. You and Loki had both settled into your lives of fake marriage. To be frank, you both still found a way to bicker every chance you got, but you both had stopped the small attempts to kill each other during the first week of your stay on Sakaar. Today, it would seem that Loki wanted to argue about your living space on the couch. He had offered to take the spot on your first night together, but you weren't accustomed to the coldness the master bedroom offered.

"It's not even that bad, Loki! You are just being picky."

You never really had many things before your stay on Sakaar. Banishment offered little things to own and life as a Valkyrie did not require many necessities. However as soon as you and Loki presented yourselves to the Grandmaster's guest, you were showered with gifts and offerings such as dresses and lavish jewelry. You usually just dumped them on the couch with the intention of putting it away later, but after a long day of drinks and dancing, you just push them off the couch and fall asleep.

Loki rolled his eyes and helped you pick up the unwanted presents. He secretly hated the attention you were receiving recently. It didn't bother him at first, but after he started to become accustomed to your stubborn attitude and hidden insecure nature, he despised the gifts. As if on cue, you noticed the obvious disdain in Loki's mood recently, but you always assumed it was your fault. You hated to admit how bother it made you. Being in close proximity with Loki at all times made you begin to like your little marriage routine. In fact, anytime you weren't with Loki was quite possible the most dull in your book.

"If you are going to have such a sour attitude, then you don't need to help." You muttered. He scoffed but continued with the cleaning. "I don't understand why you even bother accepting all these gifts." You ignored the comment as you picked up the last article of clothing left. The tension in the room was unbearable. Gossebumps rose up your arm as you tossed the clothes inside a closet. "I fail to see how It's any of your business, Loki! Last time I checked we aren't really married!" As I made my way back into the living room where Loki was, you noticed he was already gone.

Of course, it was your fault again. You rolled your eyes and made your way to the commotion down the hall. The grandmaster was holding another banquet today, so that could be the only place Loki had went to. When you made your way through the party, you couldn't find Loki at his usual spot. After searching more, you found him at the side of Thor in a clear argument. Before you had a chance to hide, Thor had already caught you in his piercing gaze.

"You!"

You straightened yourself out and confidently walked over towards the idiot brothers. Loki refused to acknowledge your presence while his brother was soaking it all in. "Another betrayal, brother? I must say you work fast." The comment was far deadlier as it rolled off Thor's tounge. Loki, however, was unfazed. "Relax, it is only a facade for the Grandmaster. She is nothing more than a wench I'm using." You glared into the green eyed monster in front of you and smiled stunningly. "I can't wait to slaughter both of you and feed you to Hela." From afar, it would look like a beautiful wife smiling at her equally beautiful husband, but that smile was the biggest lie here. You pushed past Loki and walked towards your room. There was a hidden knife that pierced the peace you and Loki had finally created the moment Thor had landed. The war had begun again, and you refused to let any other distractions find its way to you. This was it. The demon is returning to her devil. As you changed into your armor and prepared for your escape. A terrifying thought came to you from your earlier conversationwith Loki and Thor.

You did not refer to Hela as your queen.

Alright, I aimed for a more lighter feel for this part. I decided not to make this part too long, so I will be making a third part to this. It will be the last, so I hope you are looking forward to it! Please let me know what you think!

Also, I have some shorter one shots in the making, and I would love to add more. Therefore, please sent in some request you are hoping for. The requests will have priority over my writing, so I will try to get those done before my own imagines on Sundays. Anyways thanks for reading!!

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki (marvel)#loki odinson #loki fanfic #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #marvel comics

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