#I SHOULD POINT OUT NOT HIS MCU VERSION PLEASE NO

[kitamars]

hi ive been going through it a little bit

[tarithenurse]

Handle with care - 3

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Eventually Bucky x fem!reader, The Avengers, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, SHIELD. Word count: 998. Content: So much pining it’s ridiculous. A/N: This will be a small series. Let me know what you think and please reblog – it’s fuel for more! There’s a taglist too so send an ASK if you want on it.

3.

- Bucky’s PoV -

She’s asked the team to come see her one on one at their leisure now she’s fully caught up. Steve was the first to go, keen to make her feel welcome and of use and Bucky felt that he should have done that. Instead he’d been in the gym. He spends a lot of time there now. It’s close.

“Hey, Buck!” Steve’s voice snaps him back to reality. “Where’s your head at?”

The two of them have gotten pizzas and are (or were) trying to pick one of the movies from Sam’s list of recommendations.

“Right here, punk,” he grumbles in reply. Snagging the list out of Steve’s hand, he looks over the options. “What’s the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek again?”

“It’s the...uh...they’re both in space...?”

Bucky’s about to point out that that’s in fact a similarity and not a difference when he notices someone at the door, heading for the kitchen: [Y/N].

“You’re here late for a Friday night,” Steve calls out for her.

“Yeah...took longer with Doctor Banner than expected,” she smiles tiredly.

Something inside Bucky’s guts curls up at the idea that even Bruce has taken time to go see her. But he doesn’t say anything.

She steps closer, still clutching her used coffee mug in one hand and her purse in the other. “What are you up to?”

“Deciding on a movie. What’d you recommend?” Steve hands her the list and she scans it quickly.

A crooked smile catches on her soft lips and Bucky has a hard time focusing on anything else for a moment.

“Honestly?” she asks, earning two nods. “None of these but rather a story closer to your time: Lord of the Rings. If you have the time.”

“Got all night.”

“Good because you ought to see the extended version. Hang on.”

Bustling off to put her mug away, she soon returns to order FRIDAY around and the screen on the wall activates, waiting for the order to begin playing the movie.

“You’ve read the books?” Both men nod. “There are some changes to it but it’s still amazing movies.” Slipping on to the armrest next to Bucky, she smiles shyly. “I won’t bother you for long but...I’ll just make sure it’s the right version.”

With that she starts the movie and Bucky has a hard time watching the screen, rather wanting to look at her as she softly mouths the words in Elvish, eyes shining with excitement.

By the time Frodo inherits the ring, she’s seated properly on the couch right next to him, making his heart thunder in his chest.

When the party reaches Rivendel, she’s resting her head on his shoulder, softly breathing as she’s somehow managed to fall asleep to the movie despite clearly loving it. Bucky doesn’t dare move for fear of waking her up, inevitably causing her to move away. Thankfully, Steve hasn’t noticed.

He does discover the conundrum when the movie ends, though. Grinning at Buck, the blond man just whispers goodnight and leaves his friend to figure out what to do.

- Reader’s PoV -

Someone’s calling your name, softly stroking your hand. “Hey, doll?”

“Hmm?” you manage to mumble, blinking in the soft light to get a face into focus.

Whoever it is is close to you. You blink again. There are storm-coloured eyes, smiling gently at you. Bucky. You return the smile. Then freeze. He’s much too close! Suddenly everything comes rushing and you’re painfully aware that you’re leaning against him, chin on his shoulder. You must have fallen asleep somehow. Pulling back, you begin to apologize profusely.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promises, instantly calming you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be...you’ve been working hard and it’s a new job. Makes sense you’re tired.”

You follow his gaze to your lap where his hand is still holding yours and it’s with regret you watch him pull away.

“I better...better get going...” you say tamely while getting up.

He follows you to the elevator. “Wanna watch the next movie with me? Us?”

Your heart leaps. “I’d like that. Tomorrow?” He nods “I’ll be here.”

---

Maybe it’s the nap you had at the Tower. Maybe it’s the realization of who you’d napped on. Either way, you can’t sleep once you’re lying in your bed. You just keep replaying the moment where you woke up with Bucky’s face so close to yours and the brief joy of him holding your hand, stroking your knuckles. It had felt good. More than good, actually. For a moment your mind is distracted trying to find the right word but then the image of his grey eyes appears in your thoughts and nothing else matters.

- Bucky’s PoV -

Even now as he lays in bed, his shoulder still feels warm where her head had been resting. His entire arm too because she’d leaned against it. Soft curves. Pencil skirt riding up a bit higher than it should. Blouse that did nothing to shield against the body heat seeping from her to him.

It had been a fight for her to stay awake as long as she had. Initially she had been enraptured by the movie, anticipating every line of dialogue...but she had succumbed eventually.

She was beautiful in her sleep. Peaceful. Soft lips that were gently parted and eyelashes resting like snow: delicate – sometimes they’d flutter when the noise of the movie got too much but she would sleep on regardless, exhausted from a long day’s work.

Steve had been caught up by the movie, and what little Bucky had caught of the thing it really was good. He ought to re-watch it without any distractions.

But right now...right now he just lies, trying to sleep but instead feeling all sorts of fuzzy inside in a way he hasn’t for technically...well scratch that: he’s never felt that way before. Sighing deeply, he knows what’s happening to him but he just can’t believe that he’s been smitten now. So randomly. So...profoundly.

[darsynia]

Don't Read the Last Page | Chapter 3 (Tony/Reader)

Summary: Your friend Nat claims her plan to distract Tony Stark with her sex appeal isn't working, so she wants you to do it with your brain--and a sexy red dress. Things start out completely over your head and get more complicated when SHIELD becomes involved.

Length/Warnings: 4,200 | none (future smut!!)

My Tony tag list is basically in shambles, going commando here, blame the surgery haha. Had this half done and decided to YOLO and finish editing.

OH FFS I PUT CHAPTER TWO AND IT'S THREE. BLAME THE EYE!

Masterlist | MCU Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Prev | Next

Exerpt:

“A conscience? You haven’t done anyth--” you start to say, but he interrupts you with mercurial suddenness.

“I’m dying. I want to touch you, and I’m dying, so I want to do it now. Not in a week, not tomorrow, not when I’m sober, now. But I can’t get out of the suit. I’m stuck.” His expression is bleak, and he’s watching you like he knows what you’re going to say. You say the first thing you think of, because it’s obvious he’s expecting it.

“That sounds like a lie meant to manipulate.”

“You’re right. Eighteen months ago I might have said I was dying to persuade a woman to sleep with me and not even feel bad. Eighteen months ago it wouldn’t have been true.”

Chapter Three: Gone With the Wind

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get more chaotic, someone wearing a silver version of Stark’s suit interrupts his drunken microphone speech and tells him to ‘shut it down.’ 

Natasha pulls you into an alcove shortly before the crowd stampedes away from the coming confrontation.

“Bad planning. They’re running away from him, sure, but that’s not towards an exit,” Nat laments. Seconds later, the two Iron Man suits power past you through multiple walls, the crowd panics, and you hear someone calling out for help. It’s the DJ.

Nat refocuses on you. “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do: go upstairs, turn left, go up to the keypad on the second door and put in 1122. That’s my code. You should be safe in there. If you get too worried, head into the bathroom, those are always reinforced.”

“You want me to stay here?” 

“He’ll associate me with the party, he already likes you, and someone’s got to stick around to keep an eye on him. Please?” Natasha is offensively good with puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, all right. Are you going to help the DJ?” you ask. Nat nods and makes a shooing motion. You start up the stairs, slipping your shoes off and running when you feel the whole building shake. You barely make it into the bathroom (because yes, reinforced sounds like the only safe place to be, right now) when a gigantic crashing noise and sounds of fighting make you cower in the large bathtub.

There’s only one silver lining, and it’s really freaking thin: even Nick Fury couldn’t blame you for this, right? This could have happened even if you hadn’t ever set foot in the house. Stark was planning to get entirely hammered tonight, you’re completely certain of it. As you huddle in the bathtub (it’s basically hot-tub sized, and you have to laugh at yourself for having the glass doors around it closed, as if that will stop anything) with your high heels beside you, you feel a twinge of conscience.

You want to help.

You’ve always been good at coming up with rationalizations, reasons to do or not do things, and your helpful brain is starting to do that about this, even though you’re basically a Red Shirt in this scenario. The thing is, Stark did seem to want to listen to you, and definitely wanted you to think you were influencing him, even though you are completely sure he was planning to get hammered at the party. You’ve cared about the man for years, though more in a ‘what famous person would you have lunch with’ way than a ‘what famous person’s house do you want to cower in the bathtub of’ way.

In the back of your mind, a gossipy little voice points out that you could have gotten a few kisses and even some groping out of the man if all hell hadn’t broken loose.

Bottom line, aren’t you as qualified as any other ‘pluck a random pretty girl off the street’ candidate to try to persuade this man not to rush headlong into any more disasters?

“Too late, in case you haven’t noticed?” you groan.

On the other hand, if Natasha couldn’t trick him into calming down, what chance do you have? You’ve heard some of her stories, and even back when you thought she was just making shit up, they’d been impressive. Couldn’t Nick Fury find someone else to do his scut work? By the look on Pepper Potts’ face tonight, Stark seems to have alienated her fairly neatly without your help, which is a relief, really, because you’d really hated the subtle implications Fury had made about standing between a burgeoning relationship. You’ve always loved romance novels about two people that everyone else thinks aren’t meant for each other, but it all works out because they have true love.

That gossipy voice in your head really likes that statement, and not because of Pepper Potts. Having Stark’s attention on you had been heady, and you would have been all for it had you not been in such a public place. 

You’re certain he would have kissed you if you’d had let him, and just thinking that makes you shiver more thrill than fear, despite your current predicament. Now, though? Now he’s drunk. VERY drunk. Can’t consent drunk. Which is another great reason to get out of here, because if the man you’ve crushed on for years (so maybe you aren’t just interested in his brain after all?? That same voice asks tartly) expresses interest when there’s no crowd, no music, no other eyes on you, you’re still going to have to say no.

The smashing sounds stop, and you can hear arguing instead. Maybe there’s a chance to get out of the house while that happens? You are pretty sure there are holes in the floor, and that’s just not safe.

You stand up. You’re in the middle of picking up your shoes and reaching out to open the glass door so you can climb out of the tub when a gigantic shockwave knocks you off your feet, shaking the house and breaking the glass that surrounds the tub. You hit your head on the faucet as you collapse.

Everything starts to have a dreamlike quality to it, and you can see a few little cuts on your legs and arms. They don’t actually feel like anything, even though you can see the blood. At most, they sting. In any case, you feel like someone has injected you with some kind of drug, because you’re sleepy and don’t really care about anything but huddling up in your tub.

All your instincts are screaming that this is not the time to rest, but it’s too late to listen.

You come back to reality with a headache. Taking stock of your situation, you find that miraculously, you’re not really hurt. There are a few scratches, but that’s it. Either way, you sit up and see that the tub is basically littered with thousands of small chunks of tempered glass. Clearing your shoes of as much glass as you can while you feel woozy, you wipe off the bottom of your feet and put them on, so at least you won’t be stepping on glass to get out.

The process of climbing out makes you rant about the whole situation, and you don’t try to be quiet about it, either. There’s no way you could have predicted that a simple party invite would end up like this!

Though, maybe Nick Fury did?

You frown.

Stark’s voice calls up from somewhere below you. “Hello? Someone up there?” You’re about to respond, frozen on the spot when he continues, making it clear that he’s still affected by the alcohol. “If it’s Pepper, I blame you for inviting Rhodey. I told you he was a killjoy!”

The name sounds familiar somehow, but you can’t place it. Given that the only killjoy you observed was the man in the other Iron Man suit, you’re betting that’s who Stark’s referring to.

“Not Pepper,” you call out.

Technically, you’ve done what he asked. You stuck around. It wasn’t on purpose, though. 

When you walk out into the bedroom, you catch your breath. The floor has a hole in it. There are cracks spidering out all around it, and nothing looks structurally sound. You can see the door  maybe ten steps away in total-- but you don’t think there’s a safe pathway over to it.

“Shit, now what?” you say to yourself.

A strange sound catches your attention, and you look over toward the hole in the floor to see Stark levitating up through it, using the power of the devices in the hands and feet of his suit.

“Hey, you’re still here! Great.”

He starts sideways, like he’s moving over to land on the section of floor you’re worried about.

“Wait!” you shout. “It’s not safe.”

“Well, look at that,” Stark says. He sounds like he’s looking at a piece of confusing artwork, or a picture of some stranger’s grandchildren. You watch as he maneuvers over to the door, opens it, and lands on the other side. “Seems stable here. No cracks.”

Stark beckons, and you groan inwardly. 

“It’s not safe to walk on,” you say, speaking slowly in hopes of getting through to Drunk Stark.

“I can come get you!” he announces brightly.

“I’m not sure you’re in any condition to--”

He’s already levitated over, crouched down, and banded an armored arm around your waist by the time you make it through half of your admonition.

“If anything happens, I’ve got you,” Stark says. You give in against your better judgment, as he doesn’t wait for any confirmation from you to start heading across the cracked concrete. Once you’re through the doorway on the other side, you slump against the wall in relief.

“I wouldn’t have let you fall,” he tells you, leaning over to catch your eye.

“Knowing that and making my scared body believe it are two different things,” you tell him. You watch as he tries to parse that, still a bit too drunk for complicated phrasing. After a few seconds, he just shakes his head and looks you up and down.

“Couple of cuts, but I’m fresh out of band aids. You feel okay?” You nod, and Stark makes a wry face and looks down at himself. “Ordinarily I’d offer to ‘check for broken bones,’” (and he actually does the scare quotes with his armored fingers) “--but I’m kind of screwed into this thing, and the machine I use to get me back out is in pieces.” He does a little shrug thing that makes you smile. Something tells you that when he sobers up, he’ll care that he’s stuck in the suit, but for now he’s fine. Given how destructive his behavior was earlier that night, maybe it’s for the better.

“I was hiding in the tub, which was fine until that last shockwave. I fell down and the glass shower door shattered,” you tell him. It sounds a lot less dramatic than the actual experience, somehow.

“And yet, that damned gold shawl made it through!” he says, waving one gauntlet in the general direction of your chest. “You know, there’s no real evidence I’m not still passed out downstairs,” Stark muses, leaning over to look into the room they just came from. “I’ve had dreams like this. You’re probably not actually real, and I’m just imagining that I have one more present to open for my birthday.”

“And I hit my head, so this might all be an elaborate hallucination where I’m alone with you in your house but you can’t take your armor off,” you joke, reaching up to feel the back of your head. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. You’re drunk and can’t consent.” There’s a small lump there that’s tender, but it doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Stark is silent, and you feel your face flush at your presumption. You glance over at him after counting ten seconds in your head.

He doesn’t seem offended. He seems intrigued. He’s got one hand against the wall a few feet down from you, leaning against it. Stark’s looking at you, his head tipped to the side. 

“You’re more relaxed,” he says, sounding confused. “You were here through our whole fight, stuck in a bathtub full of glass next to a room with a hole in it, and here you are joking around with me! You were a nervous wreck earlier!” As he speaks, he punctuates his words with wild hand gestures, pointing and waving until he loses his balance and crashes into the wall beside you. “Okay, definitely still drunk,” he observes in an amused tone. He turns his body so he’s leaning against the wall with his back instead of his face. “I object, by the way. I think I could prove that if I’d consent to fooling around when I wasn’t drunk, drunk me would definitely consent to it, too.”

“I really don’t like crowds,” you shrug in answer to his first question. “And, that’s not how consent works.” 

“The real question is whether you would consent,” he says, reaching his hand out to trace his armored fingers along the edge of your shawl.

“That answer isn’t relevant,” you say quietly. He gives up touching the fabric and moves to lift your chin so you look at his face. There’s a question in his eyes, one that looks more genuine than a drunk proposition. “Maybe,” you whisper.

“Better,” he says approvingly. Stark shifts along the wall and winces.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Yes. Definitely.”

You see that he’s closed his eyes and is starting to slide down the wall. The house is probably not safe for the long term, but you start looking around for somewhere he can rest that’s more comfy than a hallway. The bedroom you’d been in is out of the question, and Nat’s code doesn’t work on two of the other doors. When you come back, Stark has slid all the way down, and is resting against the wall, his legs splayed out.

“Something tells me your helmet is not comfortable like this,” you murmur, noting the way it leans Stark’s head forward because of the bulk of the armor protecting his head. Awkwardly, you manage to kneel down in your tight dress, thanking fate that the man in front of you is insensate, because he would definitely have had something to say about that. Not that the gossipy voice in your head wouldn’t have enjoyed it. “Excuse me? Mr. Stark?” you say, raising your voice a little.

“Mmm? Oh, it’s you.” he says, opening his eyes and smiling in a dopey way. “I get to unwrap you now, right? Party’s definitely over.”

“Does your helmet come off?” you ask bluntly, ignoring his other comments. You like the sentiment, but being distracted isn’t going to help either of you right now.

Despite that, you will admit to feeling a definite rush of pleased excitement when this famous man you’ve been intrigued by for years said ‘oh, it’s you.’ The way the fates like to fuck with you is in strong evidence, though. First you make friends with a super assassin spy person, and instead of calling you in to help with something really impactful, she makes you go to a party, an activity you’ve never really enjoyed. Then, you get to actually meet Tony Stark, and the man seems genuinely interested in you!? But he’s drunk, and you’ll have to turn him down. It’s really just not fair.

“Ooh, very good idea. We should take it off.” Stark reaches up and runs his armored fingers around the contours of the helmet for a good two minutes, somehow brimming with confidence the entire time. Then he drops his hands. “Yep, can’t remember how.”

“You are completely hopeless,” you laugh. There’s something really adorable about him right now, and it tugs at your heartstrings. He has a party reputation but not so much a drunken one; does anyone even get to see him like this? It feels special in an odd way, but maybe that’s just your mind trying to make the moment something other than a complete mess that you have no idea how to extricate yourself from. Much like Stark and his helmet, actually. “Do you remember how but you can’t quite make your fingers work, or is the knowledge hidden in the amber liquid your brain is steeped in right now?”

“That’s poetic,” he says. He groans and leans his head back, but it doesn’t really work because of the helmet. “It was mostly clear liquid though.”

“Do you want me to try?”

“Kitten, if you want to put your hands on me, I’m all for it,” Stark says.

You’d been kneeling beside him, but when he says that, you sit back on your heels, a bit dazed by the lust-soaked grit in his voice. It’s like you’ve been playing a D&D game and someone just rolled a natural 20 on shifting the tone, or something.

“Uh oh, I lost you again.” He’s back to sounding like a slightly lost, adorable man-child. You’re getting dizzy from the shifts, here, but maybe it’s less dizzy than entranced. He’s still charismatic like this, but far more approachable. It’s dangerous, honestly.

“Pick a mood, Iron Man!” you protest.

“Honestly, don’t take this the wrong way, but if I could pick a mood, it would be asleep.” He does a sad little frown, pressing his lips together in wry disappointment.

“Sleep is good,” you tell him. “The problem is, I don’t know where you could safely do that. I also feel like I probably ought to stay with you until you’re out, because you? are not making good decisions tonight.”

Stark looks at you like you have the answers to all the problems of the universe, then opens his mouth and says, “Donuts.”

“You either hardly ever get drunk or your staff is insanely loyal,” you blurt out in irritation.

“I want donuts. In the morning I’m going to go get some. You should stay. I know a really good place. You can’t miss it, it has a huge donut on the roof. Huge,” Stark says, leaning in as if it’s really important for you to believe him. “I bet I could fit in there.”

His eyes widen and he starts scrambling to his feet, grinning.

“Woah, hold on. You are not qualified to decide what you’re doing or where you’re going right now, okay? Talk to me,” you instruct.

Mentally, you’re making a note to tell Nick Fury that you deserve overtime for this. Like you should start out with time and a half. With hazard pay.

“Bossy!” Stark complains, but he sounds almost enthralled. “No, no, you can trust me. Listen. Step one,” he says, holding up one armored finger. “There’s a couch in the basement. And the walls are gone so it’s not locked anymore, so you don’t need a code.” He grins as if this is some kind of brilliant move he’s made, rather than a result of getting drunk and fighting with expensive, unique technology that has seriously damaged the structural integrity of his million-dollar house. “Step two--” this time he holds up the first finger of his other hand, frowns, then puts the first hand up beside it and nods. “Step two, we use JARVIS to call Happy, so you can take a car home.”

From his buildup you had been convinced this step would be at least somewhat coherent, but it doesn’t make any sense to you at all. 

“Let’s work on step one, shall we?”

“Race you!” he says, and you’re forced to watch helplessly as he lifts off, cackling madly, heading for the room with the hole in the ceiling.

It’s clever, ridiculous, and somehow completely Tony Stark. Impulsively, you rip off your shoes and rush down the stairs.

“Shit, I have no idea how to get to the basement!” you exclaim, frustrated. For all you know, Stark flew from one hole to another, but it’s not like you can!

“Forgive the intrusion, but you’ll find them if you take a turn to the right, walk forward until you reach the wall, and turn right again,” a British voice says in a dry voice.

You look around, but you don’t see anyone.

“Does it help if I tell you that I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s AI assistant?”

“Yes, actually, it does,” you say, laughing nervously. You follow the instructions, expecting to see the AI’s physical form. “Stark?”

“I’m not answering to that,” he announces, and you follow the sound of his voice. He’s in a room with, yes, the frames for glass walls, but the walls are gone, just like he said they would be. “It’s Tony or nothing.”

“All right, Nothing, let’s figure out how to get that helmet off,” you say, walking into the room to see that he’s sitting on the couch he’d mentioned. “Could you call your AI down here? He helped me find a non hole in the floor way to get down here.”

Goodnaturedly, Stark nods, then calls out through a smile, “JARVIS, could you manifest a physical presence for my birthday present?”

You’re a bit distracted by being referred to that way, so you miss what he’s really saying until the AI responds. 

“I only wish I could, Sir.”

“It was worth a shot,” Stark says.

“He’s a program, not a robot,” you realize aloud. 

“Yep,” Stark says, yawning.

Over the next five minutes, you speak with the AI as Stark heckles you both between yawns. As time passes, he seems to be losing the nonstop giddy drunken behavior, inserting morose introspection into the mix.

You find out that ‘happy’ is actually the nickname for the Mr. Hogan you met earlier. He’s at the police station smoothing over the fallout from the fight between Stark and the other man, the ‘Rhodes’ you’d heard Nat and Hogan speaking about. Rhodes apparently left with the other suit, but considering that the device to take it back off is out of commission, it kind of makes sense. It’s not like Stark’s in any condition to fix anything.

With JARVIS’s (slightly snarky, which you kind of love) help, you get Stark’s helmet off.

“Thanks,” he says, launching himself to his feet to look at the black mirror of the flat-screen television across from the couch. He examines the skin of his neck with obvious consternation.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask, worried. You come over, but Stark stumbles back, putting his hands up. The gold shawl catches on a metal gauntlet and is pulled off of you.

“Okay, that was awesome, but I swear I didn’t plan it,” Stark says, waving the arm that’s caught in the shawl like it’s a trophy. Then he looks at you, instead of the shawl. “Oh.”

You are pretty sure your face matches your clothing in hue right now. He’s staring, amusement faded into an admiration that’s almost fierce. Stark’s eyes are glittering, and you can feel the heat of them as he looks up from your chest to your face.

“All teasing about presents aside, I really like the dress,” he says in a quiet, rough voice. He winces, reaches up to rub his eyes or his forehead in some way, but stops, frowning at the metal glove he’s wearing. Stark’s smile is bitter and humorless when he shifts his gaze back to you. “Ever since I’ve gotten back from Afghanistan, my life’s just been irony piled on irony. Fuck, even that term is apropos.”

He collapses onto the couch and groans. You’re completely taken aback. He’s gone from a somewhat expected reaction (you’d known he would like what you’d been covering up, he’s Tony Stark) to this display of utter frustration, but you have no idea why. You suspect Fury might know, though, and that thought makes you worried about the defeated cast of Stark’s shoulders as you watch him grapple with whatever is going on.

“The stupid part is, I didn’t even need to grow a conscience right now, but it’s there,” he says, looking over at you.

“A conscience? You haven’t done anyth--” you start to say, but he interrupts you with mercurial suddenness.

“I’m dying. I want to touch you, and I’m dying, so I want to do it now. Not in a week, not tomorrow, not when I’m sober, now. But I can’t get out of the suit. I’m stuck.” His expression is bleak, and he’s watching you like he knows what you’re going to say. You say the first thing you think of, because it’s obvious he’s expecting it.

“That sounds like a lie meant to manipulate.”

“You’re right. Eighteen months ago I might have said I was dying to persuade a woman to sleep with me and not even feel bad. Eighteen months ago it wouldn’t have been true.”

Something inside you shifts, clicking into place. It pushes away the guilt you feel about Nick Fury and SHIELD, turns your worry about your deadline into something hazy and indistinct, focusing instead on that thread of interest you’d had for Tony Stark for years. It solidifies that thread into braided wire, and before you even understand it fully, binds the two of you together.

The strength of that shift frightens you. It’s sudden, but durable. You don’t think you’re going to be able to shake it. You’re not sure you’ll want to.

“You look terrified. You should be.” Stark starts tossing the things that had been on the other cushion of the couch off onto the floor. “Go home. Have an uncomplicated life. Maybe come to my funeral.” He turns his body, throws his feet up, and arcs one of his armored arms over his eyes as he leans back on the couch.

“Miss, there is a tonic that mitigates his symptoms. It can be found in the garage refrigerator. It’s possible that part of Mr. Stark’s current melancholy stems from the combination of the effects of the alcohol and the period of time since he’s had any tonic.”

The brusque British voice startles you. “He’s really dying? What--”

“Palladium poisoning,” Stark says from under his arm.

“Tell me where the tonic is,” you say, looking up at the ceiling.

To be continued...

[the-desolated-quill]

The sad thing is there really should be more hype for the new Captain America film. Sam Wilson taking up the mantle should be a big deal. Except it isn’t. Because it’s been undermined at every turn by very stupid creative decisions. Not only is it near impossible for this film to stand out due to the tsunami of MCU content and the resulting franchise fatigue, it also doesn’t help that it’s been preceeded by Falcon And The Winter Soldier, which completely takes the wind out of its sails because this isn’t technically Sam Wilson’s debut as Captain America but rather his second outing. Also Peggy Carter is her own rival version called Captain Carter, which undermines him further. Then there’s the fact that this film feels less like a Captain America movie and more like a stealth Hulk sequel with Captain America shoved in for marketing purposes. Not to mention the reason Sam Wilson became Captain America in the first place wasn’t because of some noble sacrifice or passing the torch moment, but rather because Steve Rogers got bored of being a superhero and wanted to go back to WW2 for some British crumpet.

The whole thing is a joke. What should be a defining moment just comes off as cheap and tacky and purposeless. Seriously, what’s the point of this film? Why is it being made? There’s nothing going for it. It’s just yet another MCU film. Who cares? Is anybody even watching these films anymore? I assume they are because they keep making them. Maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe they should stop. Please. Just stop. 😞

[marvelmaniac2000]

Summary:  Loki finally catches you time slipping after you guys break up. Little does he know the different lives you guys could have shared.

Characters: Loki x (Reader (Y/N) Mobius, Sylvie

Subject: Fingering, foreplay, french kissing, angst reader, dominant Loki, makeup sex,  Loki season 2 (non spoiler smut) , 18+ ONLY,

Intercourse, doggy style, slow burn emotional sex, 

Words:1.4k 

 (I wish I could watch Loki again for the first time. I love the aesthetic. It’s probably the only MCU show I’m able to keep up with at the moment. Everything else is not on my agenda lately to be written about.) Wrote this late at night tired af 🤡

   You TemPad back into the TVA with burning red eyes trying to hold back the tears. There was nothing in your mind that mattered but some sheer solitude away from loki. He completely messed up your life. He was just a regular variant that needed to be controlled. What made him seem like he was any different from the rest? Maybe you were the weaker link in the TVA that he was able to manipulate the most. 

   You stood in the middle of the TVA main monitor before striding down the hall toward a vacant interrogation room. You slumped down in the chair and exhaled. Loki was under Mobius' responsibility and couldn’t run off without knowing his where abouts at all times. This was your chance to disconnect from whatever was happening. Mobius warned you many times before to stay away from him but you couldn’t help wondering what made this man think he was different from the rest of the variants at the TVA. Every flirtatious moment, slight touch and seductive gazed sent major shivers down your spine when he was even near you. Loki was helping you guys track down the unknown variant but little did you know that the same viarant apparently named “Sylvie” was something of his own new desire. 

    You heard a slight presence from somewhere in the dark room. “I told you, didn't I? Mobius lingered from behind. “Please leave me alone in my own thoughts for a second before you rub it in my face” “Nahhh I think this is all too good of a moment to pass up” Mobius slid his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, just think about it for a sec…the guy fell for a female version of himself.. That isn’t someone worth gloating about... trust me” Mobius stood across from the table. “Well you know you can't help who you fall in love with” you whispered. “That doesn’t exist here. You had a job to do, and you preferred to be selfish and cause more timelines to branch out. I hope you’re happy” 

  “You and I both know that wasn’t the plan” you retorted. 

 “None of this was (Y/N)!.. “ He scoffed. Now you are a part of a case that I do not want my own friend involved in. It just became personal and more difficult, so I hope I won’t have to prune you.” 

   “Don’t worry. you won’t” you flipped your TemPad open and vanished.  

.............................

  “I care about you Sylvie and quite honestly I did at one point wanted to be with you but I don’t really like you in that way .” Loki reached out for Sylvie sitting down. “Look it doesn’t not matter what I think, the TVA is in complete shambles and that’s really the only thing that makes me happy at the moment.” 

  Loki looked up at Sylvie’s face and noticed a glimpse of hurt. “I think you’re a pain in the ass,” he chuckled. “Why? You got what you wanted but do you realize it won’t include you if there isn't a timeline to begin with?”

 Sylvie slid down off of the truck. “ I meant every last word. Now excuse me, I’ll like to enjoy my peace.” With a brush against Loki’s shoulder, Sylvie walked back into the restaurant. 

   Loki pinched his nose. His patience was running thin with everyone. For the love of god, he loved both you and Sylvie but only he couldn’t go back to the godly way of juggling several women at once. All he could think about was you right now and being wrapped up in your sheer company. Maybe he should just let Sylvie be alone for a while, he was sure she would be okay for the “time” being. First, he needed to find you and make sure you were not going to disappear from the end of time. 

    The gentle breeze swept your face as you inhaled the beautiful air from outside. You watched from across the street an amazing white picket fence house with a red truck parked right outside the garage. You moved your hands in your pocket and watched your variant self with a yoga mat and gigantic hand bag in the other. Also resting between your ear and shoulder was your phone talking extremely loud to whatever person there was. Just look at you, you did a sly smile to yourself and felt the sheer joy of seeing not only a different version of yourself but the most regular you but with Loki in it too. There he went trying to walk to the mailbox looking at maybe letters? Bills? Who knows. But it made you happy. Your variant self drove off in a hurry and waved Loki bye in the process. You wondered what it would be like to meet this version of him. Would he still look at you the same? Touch you? Or would he come off as a weird delusional variant? It wouldn’t hurt to try to see. Before you could take another step closer a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into another dimension. 

   You lunged toward an unknown bedroom. You turned to meet Loki’s gaze staring right at you. 

“Why?’ That’s all you could spit out. “I’m pretty sure I’m the last person you need to talk to save the universe? Am I not correct?”  

  “Listen, I can explain” Loki gently closed the gap between you too. “I don’t need to hear your lies” you didn’t even want to look at his face.

“(Y/N) please I love you” he took your hands into his and gave you those big pleading eyes.

“What about Sylvie? Isn’t she more important?” You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Just a friend my dearest” he brushed your hot cheek with his thumb. Oh how much you missed his touch. 

 “I’ll prove it to you” he slowly pressed his lips against yours. You moan into his mouth and let him take the lead. “I’ve always loved you and only you” he kissed the crook of your neck and sucked on the area that made you squirm. Your hands roamed between his loose strands of raven black hair. You gasped, making your grip harder around his shoulders. You backed away and slipped off your TVA jacket and pulled your shirt off.

“May I?” Loki gestured toward your pants and gently undid your buttons. He locked his lips onto yours wanting access with his tongue. You hummed letting him dance around your mouth. His hands pulled your pants down leaving you with nothing but bare lace panties. Loki let fingers slip into your bare wetness. You bite your lip watching him dance his fingers around your clit in slow strokes.

“Oh how much I’ve wanted to pleasure you” Loki soft fingers builded up the milky white wetness of your flower while you cry out in moans into his ear.

“Loki” you whispered, grinding your hips to his hand. His pace quickened while he devoured your neck with his wet tongue. Your fingers scratched his jacket wanting more of him inside.

“Please” you breathed. Loki pulled his fingers away and sucked his fingers clean of your juices.

“Lay down” he gently gestured you toward the bed.

“I want you on your hands and knees dear” You do as you were told and kneel with your bare ass in the air.  You hear the sound of a belt buckle before Loki adjusted your hips toward his entrance. You gently hitched your breath feeling him tease his tip inside your wet dripping folds.

“Are you ready my love?” he bent over nibbling at your ear. Moaning while you feel him fill you up.

‘Y-yes” you breathed. Loki smirked, ready to make you his. 

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[stonylovessteve]

July 1st - Day Three of Reveals

It's day three of gift reveals! Check back each day for more reveals or keep an eye on the AO3 collection.

To our participants, please be sure to comment on your gifts and thank your creator for making something for you. AO3 sometimes forgets to send gift emails, so be sure to check this blog (or the collection) each day to see what's being revealed.

All creators are still secret, so don’t post anywhere about your work, even if it has been revealed. You can, however, reply to comments on your work. AO3 will automatically show you as an anon author until creator reveals.

Creators: AO3 will post your work under the date it was submitted. Once your work has been revealed, go into edit and click "Set a different publication date" then change it to today's date. This will ensure that your work is posted to the top of the new works.

Without further ado… onto today's gifts!

my curse is that I bill by the hour for Fluffypanda (MCU, 5.5k) Steve Rogers, the 21st century, and his no-good, really awful, legitimately-cursed first week in it.

(you look so lovely) running through my head for tinystark616 (MCU, 5.9k) All his life, Steve has dreamed of a gorgeous brown-eyed brunet genius who’s too smart for everyone around him. Everything points to these being soulmate dreams, but that doesn’t make any damn sense when it seems like Tony’s in some far off future and Steve is just trying to get through a life of illness and poverty in 1930’s Brooklyn.

Against all odds, they meet anyway.

In the Depths for WikketKrikket (MCU, 5.1k) Prompt: Steve gets pranked on national TV as part of a charity TV fundraiser. It's embarrassing, and leaves him feeling shaken in a way he didn't anticipate. But it was for a good cause. So he's fine with it. Really.

you've really missed a trick when it comes to love for ChocolateCapCookie (MCU, 2.3k) Steve thinks he’s happier than he’s ever been, or at least he should be. This is the closest he’s ever come to having everybody he loves in one place and the Compound doesn’t echo with emptiness anymore, and he’s seen more of Tony in the past few months than he has in the last seven years. He’s still getting used to being with Tony again, this softer, older version of him, and how difficult that makes keeping his hands to himself because all he wants to do is touch him.

good enough for you for Neverever (MCU, 4.6k) Steve is having self-esteem issues because he feels like he isn't good in bed. Tony finds out and decides to do something about it.

All I Need for purpleicedteas (MCU, Art) Sometimes Steve finds himself lost in doubt. Tony always knows exactly what he needs.

Summer Whispers for starksnack (MCU, Art) Tags include 'horseback riding' but there is no provided summary.

[ladynynaeve]

Rocket for the ask game, please!

1. favorite thing about them

how he genuinely is quite sensitive to the needs of his friends - he’s hell when dealing with strangers, and maybe isn’t the best at reading the room, but he DOES care. he’ll be kicking and screaming about it and denying it but if something is not right he’s not one to sit by and ignore the problem

2. least favorite thing about them

it probably ties into the first thing in that just cause he recognises a problem it doesn’t mean he knows the right way to go about fixing it. try telling him that though. i’ve noticed a lot over the years (and obviously different writers too so this is all subjective) that rocket’s version of arguing back tends to hinge on being louder than the other person and getting the last word. he needs to learn to shut the fuck up sometimes (affectionate). (wouldn’t be him if he wasn’t like this though! it shouldn’t change!)

that being said, kind of a tangent, I dislike it when some writers choose rocket arguing back as just him being an asshole. i haven’t played the telltale game in a long time, but i seem to remember their rocket falling into this trap. sometimes he would be contrary just cause…. the writers called for it i guess? so he came across as a dick for no reason. eidos rocket meanwhile was kind of a dick but always a dick who was trying to make a point and had legitimate quibbles. for his two page appearance in star-lord grounded rocket also blew up at peter - but had objectively good reasons to! and was willing to listen when pete met him on his level.

so long story short - he’ll snark back, might blow his top a bit but in his mind he always has his reasons and when you look at them they’re mostly legit from his perspective.

a lot of writers unfortunately just make him angry for no reason and it’s really, really, REALLY annoying /rantover

3. favorite line

rocket probably makes me laugh the most out of any character he has so many ridiculous lines there’s too many to count. “that’s how we do things in the raccooniverse”lmfao. that being said I’ve always liked the dialogue between him and Pete at the end of vol. 2. Rocket’s hardly an optimist but it kind of ties into my answer for 1. He knows Peter is beating himself up and when Peter tentatively reaches out, Rocket knows what he needs to hear. Hell, Rocket himself probably also needs to tell himself but they did good!

Peter: This guarding the galaxy thing sure comes at a price.

Rocket: You knew that when you put this team together, Pete.

Peter: Yeah… but Adam? Phyla? The cosmos will be a poorer place without them.

Rocket: What about Mantis? The Major? Gamora? God help me, even that damn dog. We thought they were dead. Life and death. The trick is to keep the books balanced.

4. brOTP

groot obviously. Pete.

5. OTP

none

6. nOTP

none

7. random headcanon

he and gamora are actually closer than you’d suspect - he quite often will help her deal with her implants if they’re becoming painful, or even take out ones she doesn’t need anymore. raccoons having weirdly small human hands comes in handy (ha!) for that. she’s surprised at first - he’s more capable of serious conversation than she initially thought - they have way more in common than both of them originally thought. he knows all too well how painful it is when your implants start bugging out, but he didn’t expect one of the most famous assassins in the universe, who should by all means have the best, to be almost as cobbled together as him.

it’s sad, though neither would admit that, but it makes the two of them feel less alone.

8. unpopular opinion

i feel like a lot of this is just wider MCU fandomy stuff that i’m not part of but, like i said, generally rocket ISN’T just an asshole for no reason.

9. song I associate with him

Mr Roboto by Styx

10. favorite picture of them

I wish i had a screencap of that selfie that he took of him and the team that’s in pete’s room in the eidos gotg game because it’s too cute. that one.

[sesamestreep]

Taylor Swift prompts: Matt/Foggy, 13

13. hands around a cold glass (from the SECOND Taylor Swift prompt list) I was struggling with some writer's block a few weeks ago and my dearest Zainab was kind enough to give me permission to write a tiny Matt/Foggy-centric one-shot set in her Great British Bake-Off AU and I absolutely leapt at the chance, because I love this 'verse and I've been bothering her with texts about what these two would be up to in that AU since like January. I think this makes sense without reading her previous entries in the series (which focus primarily on Sam and Bucky, with an ensemble cast of other MCU characters), but you should read them anyway because they're very good and they will make your life better! Cross-posted to AO3 here (with more notes) if that's your jam 🍯

Even though they’ve set aside their evening for the express purpose of making a decision, Foggy waits until they’ve finished the takeout they ordered to the office (neutral ground, so no one has home field advantage) and cleaned up all the various cartons and silverware and settled back at the conference table with each of their second beers of the night before he brings up the thing they’re supposed to be talking about.

“Okay,” Foggy says, setting his beer down firmly and flipping a page over on his legal pad to find where he scribbled some notes earlier. “Reason number one that you should move into my apartment: you love me.”

“You can’t use that as one of your reasons,” Matt replies, tapping a pen against the table in a fidgety gesture that’s unlike him.

“Why not?”

“Because you also love me, which means you should move into my apartment. They cancel each other out!”

“Oh, my bad,” Foggy says, as he crosses it off his list. “I didn’t know we were playing by Boggle rules…”

Matt scrunches his nose in confusion. “I’m not familiar.”

“Really?” he asks. “You don’t know Boggle? It’s like a classic word game, you have these little cubes with letters on them that you shake and—you know what, saying it out loud, it makes sense that you haven’t played it. I understand that now. It would be impossibly boring even if there was a braille version. Moving on! Reason number two that you should move in with me!”

“Okay…”

“I’m super handsome.”

“Foggy!”

“What?”

Matt shakes his head. “I’m also handsome,” he says, quietly, after a minute.

“Damn, that’s true,” Foggy says, as if it had never occurred to him.

“Please take this seriously!”

“Fine! Reason number three: I have a lot more stuff than you do. It will take me so long to pack and it will probably make me cry and possibly throw up. You, comparatively, would have a much easier time packing, because you live like a weird, sad monk.”

“Hey! I do not! Just because I don’t like clutter…”

“Until we started dating, you owned one singular blanket,” Foggy points out. “It was a blanket for your bed and your couch that you moved back and forth as needed.”

“It was a perfectly good system,” Matt grumbles.

“Right, but isn’t it better now that you have a bed blanket and a couch blanket?”

“I guess,” Matt admits, as though he’s being tormented. “To be fair, it would probably take you at least a week just to pack up all of your cookbooks.”

“I don’t have that many!”

“You bought three new ones last week! That’s already three more than I own!”

“I can’t help it that my friends keep writing cookbooks,” Foggy objects. “What was I supposed to do, Matt? Not buy Daisy’s book?”

Matt crosses his arms, irritably. “No, but you didn’t know the authors of the other two books you bought. You could’ve skipped theirs.”

“Cookbooks make me happy! I don’t tell you not to…go to the gym!”

“You do, in fact, tell me that all the time.”

Foggy makes a hand gesture that’s meant to convey the sentiment of duh, except that such things are generally lost on Matt, for obvious reasons. “Yeah, well, usually it’s because I want you to stay in bed longer.”

“And I want you to own fewer cookbooks so that there’s room in the apartment for us to actually have a bed.”

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “Give me one of your reasons, then.”

“I know where everything is in my apartment,” Matt says, simply, “whereas at your place, I’m always looking in the wrong cabinets for stuff or tripping over things.”

“That’s just because you’re not as used to it. I’d go through the same thing if I moved to your place!”

“You’d still have an easier time of it than me.”

“That’s…fair,” Foggy concedes. “I can’t really disagree with that without being an asshole.”

“My favorite way to win an argument,” Matt replies, with a smile. “Playing the blind card.”

Foggy shakes his head. “You devious son of a bitch.”

“Also, my apartment is closer to the office and my rent is cheaper.”

“I’ll give you the cheap rent thing, though it is only because of that terrible billboard with the crazy LED lights that come through your windows at all hours, which does not bother you but would definitely bother me.”

“I remember you sleeping through three separate fire drills in college. I think you’d somehow manage to deal with the unique lighting situation of this apartment.”

“Fine,” Foggy admits, begrudgingly. “But I absolutely contest it being a mark in your favor that your apartment is closer to the office. I think it helps with work-life balance that my place is a little farther away.”

Matt thinks this over for a moment and then nods. “Okay, fine. We’ll call it a draw.”

“Good. Moving on, then. Reason number…whatever that my apartment is better: I live right next door to that bodega with those amazing breakfast sandwiches and the good, cheap coffee you love.”

“Fuck,” Matt says, with feeling. “That’s a really good point.”

“Yeah, it is!”

“Okay,” he says, in the tone Foggy’s been hearing him use in court and mock trials and even drunken debates for over a decade now.  It means Matt is currently running through his rebuttal in his mind, devising the best and most efficient way to win this round. Foggy loves that tone of voice, and the expression of intense thought that always accompanies it, even if it usually means he's about to lose whatever argument they're having. He really should be more immune to it by now, but love has made him weak and he's truly not even mad about it.

“My apartment,” Matt says, finally, “has an in-unit washer and dryer.”

That’s a solid point, but Foggy is not going to admit defeat so easily. “Okay,” he says, “but—counterpoint—mine has a dishwasher!”

“I don’t mind hand washing dishes,” Matt replies with a shrug.

“Wait until you live with me to say that,” Foggy says. “I bake all the time! It’s a lot of dishes!”

“It’s still not as bad as having to go to a laundromat and pay whenever you need to do laundry!”

“Well, my landlord says the machines in the basement will be fixed soon, so my laundromat days are numbered.”

“I will believe that when I see it.”

“You can’t see anything, sweetheart.”

“Exactly,” Matt says, smugly. He may have a point. Foggy’s landlord has been saying the washing machines will be fixed “soon” for six months now.

Foggy blows out a breath, making as much noise as humanly possible to express his frustration. “So, where does that leave us? Is somebody winning?”

Matt laughs and distractedly runs a finger through the layer of condensation on his beer bottle, dividing it down the middle with a thick line. “Honestly, I don’t know. It feels like we’re even, at this point.”

“In the spirit of honesty, then, can I ask you something?”

Matt shrugs, the gesture completely at odds with how tense the rest of his body became at the question. “Sure.”

“You do want to move in with me, right?” Foggy asks, hating himself a little for even needing to. “I know we’ve discussed it, and you said you wanted to, but it’s okay if you’re not ready yet or you changed your mind. It’s a big step—”

Matt leans forward to cover Foggy’s hand with his own, letting his fingers, still cold and damp from holding the glass, brush over Foggy’s wrist, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Of course I want to! Does it seem like I don’t?”

“No, it’s just—I know you like your space and that you value your independence a lot, and I get that but I also don’t necessarily relate to it on the same level. I wouldn’t want to pressure you into doing something that’s going to make you miserable.”

“Well, for one thing, you’re not pressuring me and living with you is not going to make me miserable. It will do the opposite, in fact.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s not even going to be our first time living together, dumbass,” Matt says, fondly. “You do remember college, don’t you?”

“Very little of it, in fact,” Foggy quips. “I think I was drunk for most of Spring 2010. It’s more or less a blank spot.”

“Still, we didn’t hate living together then, did we?”

“No,” Foggy replies. “One could even argue that we loved living together.”

“And that was with us sleeping in twin beds. Imagine how much better it will be, uh…not in twin beds…”

Foggy stifles a laugh. “Matt, did you seriously get all blushy at the idea of a queen sized bed?”

“No,” Matt says, tipping his chin down to hide his face. "Shut up!"

“You’re so cute. I want to have sex with you immediately.”

“No! No sex! In fact, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you’re not! You love me!”

“Yes, I do,” Matt says, sullenly, “And for what it’s worth, I only got embarrassed because it felt like I was implying that we slept together in our dorm in college, which obviously wasn’t true and I didn’t want to…”

“You didn’t want to admit how big of a crush you had on me back then, I get it,” Foggy says. “Oh, wait, sorry! That was me!”

“Again: shut up!”

“Okay, but now you’ve got me thinking: maybe we should do twin beds…”

“Foggy,” Matt groans.

“I don’t want our relationship to be in violation of the Hays Code, Matt!”

“Well, we’re both men, so that ship has already sailed, I’m afraid…”

“I’m just saying: if it’s good enough for Mary Tyler Moore and Dick Van Dyke, it should be good enough for us!”

“To each their own, I guess, but I sleep better when I share a bed with you.”

“I’ll pretend your reasons are romantic,” Foggy says, aiming for sarcasm and missing by a wide margin, “and not just because you turn into a koala when you sleep.”

“Have you considered being less huggable, maybe?” Matt asks, with a straight face.

“That’s like asking the sun to be less radiant! It is counter to my very nature!”

He smiles. “Fair point.”

Foggy leans back in his chair, making sure to keep his fingers tangled together with Matt’s as he does. He sighs, closing his eyes, and tries to come up with an answer to their problem. It’s a big step for their relationship and huge life changes tend to require sacrifice or compromise on some level, but it’s difficult to think of an option that doesn’t require much more of that from one of them than the other. Except…

“I have a very stupid idea,” Foggy announces. 

“Okay,” Matt replies, warily.

“And I know it’s stupid, okay? I just said that, but I want to be very clear that I’m aware of it. I’m just going to say it anyway, to put it out there.”

“Okay…”

“Should we just look for a place together?”

Matt furrows his brow, puzzling through the implications of this option. “As in, we both leave our current apartments for a completely new one?”

“Yeah. That way we both have to pack, and move, and get used to a new space, instead of only one of us having to do it. I know it’s more expensive and more trouble, so—“

“Is it weird that it makes me feel better?” Matt asks. “The idea that we’d both have to be inconvenienced, equally?”

“No,” Foggy admits. “It makes me feel better too. I want it to feel equal. And we could find a bigger place, maybe with an extra room.”

“For an office?”

Foggy laughs. “Honestly, it’s a sign of how low my standards are that I’m just relieved your mind didn’t go immediately to an in-home gym.”

Matt’s eyebrows lift, excitedly. “We could find a building that has a gym, though.”

“Like you’d ever cheat on Fogwell’s like that.”

“I meant for cross-training…”

“Of course you did,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes. “We could make a list. Things we need—“

“Close to the bodega with the good coffee,” Matt interjects, smiling.

“And a functional laundry room, somewhere on site,” Foggy adds, nodding. “And then a list of things that would be nice to have, like a gym or no nearby billboards that will fry my retinas in the middle of the night.”

“So, you’re saying we’d get to debate and write out two more lists?” Matt asks. “Are you trying to seduce me right now? In our office? Where solemn attorney-ing is done?”

“No, it just comes so naturally to me,” Foggy replies, running his thumb over Matt’s knuckles affectionately. “Though it sounds to me like that’s a yes?”

Matt gives him a surprised look. “Yes to…?”

“God, keep your pants on for two minutes, Murdock! I’m talking about the plan!”

“Oh, yeah. The plan. I mean, I know it’s more work for us and more trouble, but…”

“I’d go through a lot more trouble for your sake, if it means making you happy,” Foggy says, simply. It’s the truth, and he tries to make it a habit to say what he means, especially with Matt. It took them long enough to get here. What’s the point in hiding how he feels now?

Matt rests his chin in the hand that isn’t holding Foggy’s. “You’re very sweet, you know that?”

“I’ve heard it before, once or twice.”

“I don’t know what I did to get so lucky.”

“You smiled at me once when we were eighteen and it was all over for me. And then fifteen years later, you got jealous of a woman I met on a reality show and finally fell in love with me.”

Matt turns an adorable shade of pink and takes his hand away to cross his arms petulantly over his chest. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, so it didn’t take me going to a wedding with one of my best friends under completely platonic circumstances for you to admit you had feelings for me?” Foggy asks, grinning.

“I don’t recall, actually,” Matt says, primly, as he reaches for his beer again and takes an uninterested sip. 

“Speaking of Daisy,” Foggy says, enjoying this way too much, “I should talk to her. She and Daniel said their realtor from when they moved was great. They might be able to put us in touch with someone.”

“We could always use the realtor who rented me my place,” Matt suggests, in the neutral tone of someone who definitely wouldn’t rather eat glass than ask Daisy for help with anything. “She was very helpful and I remember she gave me her card. I could probably find it.”

“Yeah, she gave you her card because she wanted to sleep with you,” Foggy says, shaking his head. “Pass.”

“You don’t have to be jealous, Foggy,” Matt replies, with an evil smile. “She showed me the apartment under completely platonic circumstances.”

Foggy rolls his eyes at that. “You’ve never been in platonic circumstances with anyone, Matt! Every person who meets you wants to sleep with you immediately.”

Matt shrugs, like this means nothing. “Too bad for them. I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah?” Foggy laughs. “Is it serious?”

Matt nods, and his smile isn’t evil at all anymore. “Very,” he says. “We’re moving in together.”

[queen-of-the-avengers]

The Avengers: Part Nine

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

MCU Rewrite Masterlist

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Steve, Natasha, and Clint use the Quinjet to get to New York while you and Tony fly over there yourself. Tony's suit is malfunctioning because of what he went through in the blades of the engine, so it takes a lot longer than normal to get there. When you get to Stark Tower, you see Erik Selvig on the roof next to some contraption with the Tesseract spinning wildly inside.

"Sir, I took off the arc reactor. The device is already self-sustained," Jarvis says.

"Shut it down, Dr. Selvig!" Tony warns.

"It's too late! She can't stop now. She wants to show us something! A new universe."

"Tony, there is no point in trying to convince him. As long as he is under Loki's spell, he won't listen to reason."

"Okay."

Tony aims his hands repulsors toward the device and fires at it without knowing what it will do. The energy from his repulsors shatters with a deafening crack. Erik flies back from the impact and hits his head on the concrete.

"The barrier is pure energy. It's unbreachable."

"Yeah, I got that. We're going with Plan B."

"Sir, the Mark VII is not ready to be deployed," Jarvis informs.

"Skip the spinning rims. We're on the clock."

Loki is down below on the half-circle balcony watching you and Tony with careful eyes. Tony lands on the highest part of his balcony where Jarvis assists with removing Tony's damaged suit. Machines shoot up from the ground and stick to his suit so that when he walks, the suit comes off in pieces and disappears below the ground. As Tony is walking toward his penthouse, Loki is following all the while keeping his eyes on him. Once the entire suit is off, Tony walks to the bar in the back of the room for a drink while you stay in front of it. Your eyes haven't left Loki since.

"I see you brought a bodyguard," Loki smirks and looks at you. "Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity."

"Actually, we're planning on threatening you."

"Don't worry, I can take him," you glare.

All Loki can do is chuckle at your words.

"You should have left your armor on for that," he says to Tony but doesn't remove his eyes from you.

"Yeah, it's seen a bit of mileage, and you've got the blue stick of destiny. Would you like a drink?"

"Stalling me won't change anything."

"Not stalling. Threatening. No drink? Are you sure? I'm having one. You want one, Y/N?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"The Chitauri are coming, nothing will change that. What have I to fear?"

"The Avengers," Tony shrugs. "It's what we call ourselves, sort of like a team. 'Earth's Mightiest Heroes' type thing."

"Yes, I've met them," Loki looks you up and down.

"Yeah, takes us a while to get any traction, I'll give you that one, but let's do a head count here. Your brother, the demi-God; a super soldier; a living legend who kind of lives up to the legend; a man with breath-taking anger management issues; an avatar; a couple of master assassins, and you, big fella, managed to piss off every single one of them."

"That was the plan," Loki grins.

"Not a great plan," you shake your head.

"When they come, and they will, they'll come for you."

Loki turns his back on both of you, and Tony grabs two bracelets sitting on the counter that is no doubt hooked up to another suit of his. He'd be stupid to go against Loki and not wear any armor.

"I have an army."

"We have a Hulk."

"I thought the beast had wandered off."

"You're missing the point. There's no throne, no version of this, where you come out on top. Maybe your army comes and maybe it's too much for us, but it's all on you. If we can't protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it."

Loki glares at Tony and walks over to him, raising the scepter.

"How will your friends have time for me, when they're so busy fighting you?" Loki places the tip of the scepter on Tony's chest to control his mind but it doesn't work. Loki tries again but achieves the same result. You smirk when you realize the thing in Tony's chest is what's protecting him right now. "This usually works."

"Well, performance issues, you know? Not uncommon."

In anger, Loki grabs Tony by the throat and flings him across the room.

"Tony!"

You run at Loki to protect your friend but Loki grabs you by the throat tightly. You claw at his hand but he doesn't budge. He tosses you to the ground next to Tony, and you hit your head on the floor hard.

"Jarvis. Anytime now," Tony coughs as he stands up.

Loki grabs Tony's throat again and lifts him off the ground. You scramble to your feet to help but Loki shoves the sharp end of his scepter into your stomach. You gasp and grip the scepter to stabilize it so it doesn't do more damage.

"You will all fall before me."

"Deploy!" Tony gasps.

Loki tosses him out the window which worries you, but as soon as one of his suits goes flying after him, you know he is going to be okay. Now that it's just you and Loki, he pulls you closer to him and twists the scepter in you.

"I know you're better than this."

Loki yanks the scepter out of your stomach and grabs your throat again, this time a lot gentler. He pulls you so close to him that you can smell his breath. How is it so minty?

"The Loki you knew is gone. We happened a thousand years ago! Give it a rest!"

"If that's true, then why am I still alive? I'm one of the only ones who can defeat you, so kill me. Take that scepter and stab it through my heart!" Loki glances at your lips briefly before his grip on your throat gets slightly tighter. "You can't do it, can you? Take a second and look at what you're doing. This isn't you." Loki looks around and for a split second, you see confusion and panic. "Who is hurting you?"

Loki shoves you away from him and you fall to the ground as your body works overtime to heal you of your stab wound. Tony flies up to the window in which he fell through and glares at Loki. Well, he has his helmet on but you can tell he is glaring.

"There's one other person you pissed off! His name was Phil."

Loki raises his scepter to attack Tony but your friend does it first. Loki is blown back from the blast, sending him on his ass. The Tesseract's energy beams into the sky which turns into a vortex which turns into a portal, much like how it did when Loki first passed through it. A hole in space rips open, and from it, the Chitauri army spills out in flying chariots, carrying energy rifles with a bayonet on the end of it.

"Right. Army."

You force yourself to your feet and jump out of the penthouse to join Tony's side. With you, he flies toward the opening so that he can destroy the aliens as soon as they come through. If he can do that, then the damage to Earth and her people will be less significant. Where Tony fires upon the aliens with his repulsors, you blast them with fireballs. The fire is hot enough to make them explode on contact. The ones you don't hit escape to terrorize the city.

"Tony, there's too many of them!"

If you keep at it, then there will be no one protecting the people of the city. You and Tony fly away from the opening of the portal and toward the city. The Chitauri unleashes hell upon the citizens of New York City by blowing up cars, tearing down stores, and straight-up blasting people who run by them.

An explosion rips out the windows of the top corners of buildings. Fire and stone rain down from the destruction of the Chitauri. No one was aware this was happening so police and soldiers from all departments are just now storming down the street in order to protect those they can. The Quinjet flies in between the buildings as you and Tony lead a group of aliens towards Stark Tower.

"Stark, we're heading northeast," Natasha says.

"What, did you stop for drive-thru? Swing up Park, I'm gonna lay them out for you."

Tony flies around his tower toward Park Avenue. Thor and Loki are fighting it out on the balcony and instead of interrupting them, you let them have their moment. Their fight causes the letters of Stark Tower to fall to the ground, and luckily there aren't any people down below to suffer for it. The Chitauri following you is getting close, so you swoop down toward an empty street only to make a hard turn upward. The Chitauri isn't anticipating your movements so it goes crashing down onto the asphalt. Tony leads a group of them over to the Wuinjet where Natasha uses the machine gun she tried using on Loki in Germany. As soon as Tony is out of

"Sir, we have more incoming," Jarvis informs.

"Fine. Let's keep them occupied."

Tony veers to the right to head back to the portal while you stay with Natasha. She flies the Quinjet over to Stark Tower where Thor and Loki are having it out. Loki tosses his brother to the side and focuses on Natasha who is firing at him ruthlessly. He uses his scepter to blast one of the wings of the Quinjet, causing it to spiral out of control. You quickly fly over to the flaming aircraft and use your air powers to guide it safely to the ground. They take a hard tumble but everyone inside is fine.

Steve, Nat, and Clint leave the jet once it's safe and join your side on the ground. The entire ground rumbles as something big is coming through that portal. You hear a deep, primal rage bellow out, and the four of you look up toward the portal. Suddenly, a Chitauri Leviathan passes through the barrier and into your world.

"Shit," you sigh.

As it passes over you, Chitauri soldiers shoot out from the side of the creature and latch onto the buildings. Some crash through the windows and start firing upon the citizens inside while others cling to the sides of the buildings.

"Stark, are you seeing this?" Steve asks.

"I'm seeing, still working on believing. Where's Banner? Has he shown up yet?"

"No."

"Keep me posted." Tony flies closer to the Leviathan. "Jarvis, find me a soft spot."

"I can turn into one of those things and fight it. If they got something that big, may as well have something that big on our team, right?"

"That's not a good idea. We'll be shooting at you, too."

A group of Chitauri come flying in on their drones with Loki on the back of one of them. They fly down the street and shoot at innocent people. Their blasts hit cars and other items causing them to go up in flames.

"Those people need assistance down there."

Chitauri soldiers land on the falling cars near you four and begin shooting at you, but all four of you are hidden behind other cars so you're not directly in their way. Natasha takes out two pistols and starts firing at the Chituari while Clint uses his bow and arrow to take them out.

"We got this. You two go!"

"Do you think you can hold them off?" Steve asks Clint.

"Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure."

He fires an arrow into one of the Chitauri that explodes into tinier ammo which hits three other aliens. That gives you and Steve enough time to jump off the bridge you're on and to the ground below. You grab his hand and lift him into the air to fly him over to the fight since it's easier than running. The Chitauri above start shooting at you but you're too quick for their blasts.

The aliens you pass by are in your line of fire, so you send sharp icicles into their chests or flaming balls of fire into their heads. You can't use your Earth powers unless you want to add an earthquake to New York's list of problems. You can't use your air powers down here because then you'd be kicking up debris and causing more injury to humans.

There is a line of officers down the street trying to do their best by shooting at the aliens as they come but they are seriously outnumbered.

"It's gonna be an hour before they can scramble the National Guard!"

"National Guard? Does the army know what's happening here?"

"Do we?"

You and Steve land on a police car in front of them, gaining everyone's attention.

"I need men in these buildings." Steve points to the buildings he's talking about. "There are people inside that are going to be running right into the line of fire. You take them through the basement or the subway. Just keep them off the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th."

"Why the hell should I take orders from you?" the police sergeant asks.

Suddenly, an explosion comes from above you and Steve. Two Chitauri land on the same car you're on but they're not going to get past you. Steve uses his shield as protection and a weapon while you use your fire powers. You grab the side of the alien's head and set it on fire before kicking him off the car. Another one jumps in front of you and raises his weapon to fire at you but you grab his arm and form a sharp icicle that you use to stab into its stomach. The alien cries out in pain as you kick him away.

The police sergeant sees how well you two fought them so he turns to his men to order them around.

"I need men in those buildings. Lead the people down and away from the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 39th."

Tony flies after the Leviathan and tries shooting it down but it's going to take a lot more than that to take it down. However, it does get its attention and it turns around to chase after Tony.

"We got his attention. What the hell is step two?!"

"I'm on my way!" you say and shoot straight into the sky.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[littlesistersti]

List of stories ideas I want to write

Please provide feedback. I desperately need some and these all have dead-ends. So many dilemmas

Belarus x reader chapter book, titled The Girl in White

originally meant for F! reader but I can practice GN! reader 

there is a scene involving the Brain Games version of Russian Roulette

Belarus and Ukraine switching between Russian and their native Belarusian and Ukrainian somewhere, I don’t know when

post 2020 update: no Russian

Reader is the observant type

many chapters of potential “dates” but they keep thinking “we’re friends, just another day of quality time”

don’t know if it’s human or countries

Yes, I know the title is a song with political origins. It’s on purpose, kinda... I’m afraid of referring to the event at some point in the fic because fans will attack me for using real dangerous events in a fanfic (like the “It’s wrong to write fanfics with 9/11″ thing)

I’ve no intention of writing “Belarus faints while the news replay the thing” or “Belarus comes home bloodied and the reader is worried because they haven’t heard from her in days” 

I want to showcase the white and red flag but again, I’m afraid of doing something wrong over innocent intentions 

besides, there’s some sort of cultural pride with “girl in white” from what I gathered

a Transformers and X-Men crossover, starring a techno-organic (like TFA Sari Sumdac) as the adopted daughter of Erik Lensherr 

set in McAvoy, not Stewart, times

Erik is a little afraid of harming her because, you know, metal

Xavier and Erik both know she’s different (metal, not human but is she a mutant? Or what?) but not sure on the specifics

until a giant robot crashed the party

originally planned for TFP verse but I think I should writer it better as All Media or G1-esque or something close

is it better if everybody at the school knows protag is a techno-organic or no?

Seychelles taken by the Decepticons, a prequel to my absurd idea of a 4-way crossover

How is it she’s taken by KO and BD, charged under their watch, but then hangs out with the cassettes?

they’re both red and blue … why gut feeling says to choose one over the other?

Soundwave is designed after Capcom Kai’s ver

update: Seychelles won’t be affiliated with KOBD

speaking of which, a sequel to the crossover where KO proposed to BD with help from Seychelles (over video call) very extravagant human way

extra as in everybody in the perimeter watches you

most bots ignore because KO is being his usual 

BD planned a tradition proposal like in IDW

this was supposed short, as in chapter length, found at the end of the crossover book

update: this is now separate

Loki is the mother of reader/oc

I originally thought about writing 2 ver: Norse myth ver like how Rick Riordan does it (but my creative liberties) & Marvel Cinematic Universe ver or an AU take on MCU

didn’t know about Lady Loki at the time

today I’ve decided to better not write the MCU

Update: eh why not, I’ll write it

story ends with the family watching Eurovision 2012 and as Loreen performs Euphoria, Loki and protag felt that

this could be a real book professionally published like Riordan’s books but I’m not sure of the legal stuff

am I allowed to include a copyrighted song in there? Am I better off with a fanfiction site? 

this is supposed to be a story on self-discovery and accepting your sexual orientation/gender identity ... for Loki

but through the protag’s perspective and observations

yeah I could just write a different book of just Loki and the husband and kid but in Loki’s perspective

worse part is, I have no progress on the Original ver but spent time and effort on Marvel ver ... I imagined a Loki-esque dress and outfit

protag went to a Tony Stark hosted party with a friend (whose parents are affiliated with Stark or SHIELD, I don’t remember) and Loki sees protag wearing the dress and internally panics

cliché but someone spills something on the dress and Loki helps clean it up with his magic

I realized I don’t know how old is the protag

the Euphoria ver protag is a teenager, that’s all I know

she/they (is this a girl reader or a GN reader?) met Hel at younger age, made her a flower crown, doesn’t know she’s her half-sister until present time

why is the Loki thing so dang long

Update: I have changed plenty of the above plot. The Loki book (both Norse myth and Marvel ver’s) is no longer about accepting your identity but now about reconnecting with your biological mom. There’s plenty of real life stories on that sort of thing.

also update: this Loki thing is now a serious thing and I can’t explain anymore, will neither confirm/deny if any of the above will be included/scrapped 

Marvel ver of the Loki story has a GN reader who is comfortable wearing dresses, that’s all I got. I remember brainstorming with my sister and “reader is a fan of the Avengers, groupie behaviour” and I kinda hate that. It felt like a different story. 

[fanfictasia]

Disclaimer: WE’RE ONLY IN TWO FANDOMS WHICH LUCKILY CAN BE MASSIVELY BROKEN DOWN XD

Also, thanks for the tag @galaxythreads ! :D

Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars: Prequel Trilogy)

Do we even need a reason to adore Anakin? Lol. I have so many feels about him, it’s hard to put it into words. He came into our lives at the time we needed him most, and the sheer everything-ness of his life is so relatable. The hopelessness, the abusiveness, and the everything-ness of his whole entire life, of virtually everyone in his family, with how he managed to stay so overwhelmingly good throughout everything? That he still cares about them so much? That he'd do anything for them, no matter how they treat him? The redemption thing? Even by that point? I wish everyone could be that strong. <3 

2. Ahsoka Tano (Star Wars: Tales of the Jedi)

I have sooooo many mixed feels about Ahsoka. xD But as Anakin’s padawan-sister-daughter-something, she’s definitely easiest for me to project onto. I adore all versions of Ahsoka, but her from TotJ is definitely the most humanly relatable for me to understand. 

3. Hunter (Star Wars: Bad Batch)

He’s so… calm. So level headed. So reasonable, but he always puts his siblings before himself, and he’s just so, so emotional even if he hides it well. And as the sole acting adult of this random band of children?? Who’s caught up in something way over his head? And desperately wants someone to care for him, but there’s just no one? Not even the brothers he grew up with, because they always look to him like he should be capable of fixing things? And the sheer drama with his little brother trying to murder him? And Omega just being Omega and stressing them to death and being so… insensitive of him? Of Echo just walking out on him, and leaving Hunter behind to take care of the others alone? They’ve addressed his rapidly spiraling emotional state so, so well. &lt;3 (Not to turn this into a boo-hoo-poor-me, but as someone who doesn’t have parents, well, it’s very, very relatable.) SOMEBODY HUG HIM, PLEASE, JUST NOT WHEN HE HAS BROKEN RIBS OMEGA!!! I could write an entire essay about the delightful sibling drama and trauma in the Bad Batch and about how this is literally the first thing in SW trauma wasn’t ignored, but I better just move on. 

4. Ezra Bridger (Star Wars: Rebels)

Well, I loved everyone in Rebels, but I’d say Ezra’s probably my favorite. His character arc growth from a thief into one of the greatest Jedi of his time, maybe ever, was just… <3 

5. Sabine Wren (Star Wars: Ahsoka)

FIRST OF ALL I MISS HER HAIR

Okay, seriously, a Mandalorian Jedi is just… <3<3 I’ve wanted to see one for a long time, and I didn’t think we’d ever get one in SW Canon. The absolute perfect disaster to continue the lineage of disaster. Don’t know what else there is to say. xD But her arc, like Ezra’s, is amazing, and it’s so heartwarming to see someone who’s willing to do anything for their little brother. <3

6. Loki NoLastNameBecauseWhoReallyNeedsOne (MCU: Loki)

How could he NOT be my absolute favorite? Everyone is just so awful to him all the time but he’s always so nice to anyone he considers friends. His parents and Thor are just UGH which is so relatable. Everyone’s always bullying and ignoring him in favor of Thor, until his friends at the TVA, which is also very relatable. And he’s so goofy and chaotic it’s adorableeee <3 And he’s a writer to deal with his trauma. Why do I see NO ONE talk about that???????? And knives. Obviously. I adored Loki from the Thor movies, and even Avengers, but it wasn’t until the Loki series I was able to start seeing him as a person and as him instead of constantly being shadowed through Thor’s eyes. Loki getting to live his own life and make his own choices was so heartwarmingly amazing. <3 No matter how much the ending hurt.

7. Bucky Barnes (MCU: Captain America)

Maybe I just have a soft spot for evil mind-controlled snipers who try to murder their little blond-haired siblings – okay, that’s my Bad Batch obsession talking. But really. I just adore how caring he is of Steve and how he still managed to remember that. Besides, I couldn’t be my little Lassie’s older sister if I didn’t love him. sniffles xD And he just needs a hug. And some plums. :’)

8. Steve Rogers (MCU: Avengers)

Honestly, I like all the Avengers a lot, but Steve’s insane level of patience is. Uh. Impressive. I would’ve thrown everybody else out an airlock into space centuries ago. :( 

9. Hela (MCU: What If?)

I think it’s obvious why I prefer glowly-gorgeous over darkly-murderous? Maybe? Lol. But Hela’s redemption arc was so, so perfect in What If, it’s absolutely one of the best written villain redemption arcs ever. And FINALLY A REDEMPTION ARC WHERE THE PERSON GOT TO LIVE!! Okay death+redemption is typically a SW thing, but really. Her sarcasm and sass and just. <3<3<3 I love how she has the sense of self to snark back at Odin instead of just yelling. I wish everyone in abusive environments could be that way. And that she redeemed herself just to spite him??? Was like. The best thing in the whole universe. <3 AND THE GLOWYNESS AT THE END AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

10. Rocket (MCU: Guardians of the Galaxy)

MY ADORABLE FLUFF BALL DO I NEED A REASON TO LOVE YOU

If any of y'all want to join... :) @asteral-feileacan @pat-the-togorian @sinvulkt @myfairkatiecat

10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 Tags

Thank you so much @idle-brit for tagging me!This was lots of fun :) 💖

My tags: @delyth88, @elymusplant, @galaxythreads, @chemical-processes. No pressure to answer, of course :)

1. Loki (MCU)

As much as I love everyone on this list, there is absolutely no competition for number 1. Loki has been my favourite character of all time for nearly 6 years now (because clearly the best time to join someone's fandom is after they've just been murdered), and is showing absolutely no signs of being replaced anytime soon. I have a Loki blog, for god's sake. The brodinsons are my favourite relationship in any kind of media, ever. I love them so, so much. Loki's a million different things and feelings, all at the same time, all fighting with each other, which makes for a wonderfully complex and nuanced character. Also, he's hilarious. Look at that eye roll. This is a man who hates his life, which makes me feel better about mine. Thanks, Loki.

2. Klaus Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy)

As will become obvious throughout this list, I love me an emotionally traumatised crazy person. Klaus is that. One of the characters who makes me laugh the most, ever, show-stopping dress sense, and a bucketload of unresolved trauma which goes largely ignored by Klaus, the other characters and the narrative itself? It was love at first sight. Their banter with the other characters, especially Ghost Ben (rip) is one of my favourite aspects of the show. Here's to hoping that Klaus won't be getting the Allison treatment in season 4!

3. Pippa Fitz-Amobi (A Good Girl's Guide to Murder)

I binge-read the entire AGGTM series earlier this year, and instantly fell in love with it. Pip is one of my favourite protagonists ever. Impossibly clever, compassionate, obsessive, badass, and a teensy bit unhinged. What's not to love? I would die for her. I'd say that I'd kill for her, but I think she's got that covered. I think she's written in a very realistic way, firstly as a genius 17 year old girl who doesn't really know what she's getting into, and later as a haunted individual who wants to stop investigating but can't. The way she politely knocks on people's front doors to dig up their traumas, accuse them of murder and all-round ruin their lives is everything to me. She is my blorbo. I am so, so excited for the show to come out, and I'm sure that Emma Myers will do a wonderful job as Pip!

4. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)

One of the best-written characters, in one of the best-written series ever. Reading from her perspective is such a delight- she's endlessly suspicious of everyone around her, constantly on survival mode, trusting very few people and relying on exactly no one (to begin with, at least). She's a random teenage girl, from the poorest district, and she wins the Hunger Games. She's so mentally unstable that she has to be sedated, and still she's made to be the face of a rebellion. She's rude, and kind of unlikeable. She adopts all the weakest tributes, at risk to herself, knowing that they won't win. She's doomed to fail by the narrative. She's the it girl of 2010s dystopian YA fiction. Jennifer Lawrence is an amazing actress, who does a beautiful job portraying the depth and conflict of Katniss in the films. The themes and social commentary of the Hunger Games is one of its (many) strong points, and I am so so glad that people are talking about it again, because it is my favourite book series out there.

5. Mitchell Pritchett (Modern Family)

I have no idea what to say about this man, I just love him. He just like me fr. What an icon. Impeccable music taste. I've started saying, "no my god" now, and nobody understands what I'm talking about. Even in a sitcom, my favourite is the one with issues that he refuses to talk about or fix. The episode where he's trying to hide that he dressed up as spiderman makes me cry-laugh. Claire's speech at his wedding makes me just cry. He's not a perfect man, but he's certainly better than everyone else.

6. Shin Tsukimi (Your Turn to Die)

My favourite cringefail loser! I said Katniss was doomed by the narrative in a metaphorical way. This idiot is actually doomed.

No but in all seriousness, I do really love him. Before the beginning of the game, he was just a relatively normal young man- but, when confronted with the inevitability of his own death, he made himself into a monster to survive. He has a violent vendetta against the local badass teenage girl, who is traumatised as hell already and does not need Shin chipping in as well, thank you very much. I love his relationship with Kanna, his biological sister; how he uses her, manipulates her, and still cares for her so much that he dies for her with a smile on his face in the Emotion route. Conversely, in the Logic route, his actions are a direct cause of her death, and I just love how much YTTD hates siblings. I hope that his past with Midori is explored more in either a mini-episode or the final part of the game, because I find it sooo interesting. I'm super excited to see whether he actually has no chance of survival, or whether he makes it out, against the odds, on one of the routes. He's a bit useless, so I won't get my hopes up.

7. Rue Bennett (Euphoria)

I think it goes without saying that Euphoria has its issues, lol. Sam Levinson is an idiot. While a lot of the show (especially season 2) feels shallow and like it doesn't care about its characters, Rue's storylines always have heart and depth and I am so invested in her arc. It's no wonder that Zendaya won 2 Emmys for this role, because her acting is phenomenal! Rue feels so real to me, in the way that she's trying so hard to stay sober but she falls down and relapses time and time again. Recovery isn't linear, but she's getting there, and I adore her with all my heart. Her relationships with Lexi, her mother, her sister, and her sponsor, Ali, are my favourites, and the healthiest for her, in my opinion. Her brief friendship/ romance with Jules may have kept her more solidly sober than anything else in the show, but Jules (understandably) cracks under the pressure of Rue's mental health, and can't be there for her. Rue needs to heal for herself, which she appears to be doing at the end of S2.

8. Max Mayfield (Stranger Things)

Duffer brothers, please just let her be happy.

Despite only being introduced in Season 2, Max has, in my opinion, had the best character development out of everyone on the show. Her growth from someone standoffish, rude, and uninterested in the group (maybe I'm being a bit harsh. She was, like, 12) to someone who is willing to risk her life to help her friends and Hawkins means so much to me. The scene in "Dear Billy" (S4, Ep4) where she escapes from Vecna remains my favourite in the whole show and will probably be burned into my brain forever. Her relationships with Lucas and El are very sweet, and some of my favourites in Stranger Things. Her final line in S4, after all her struggles over the season, being that she doesn't want to die literally breaks my heart. I hope she gets some degree of a happy ending in the final season. She was my first profile picture when I joined this hellsite, and I love her a lot.

9. Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables)

The shenanigans that this girl gets up to never fail to make me laugh. The bit where she accidentally dyes her hair green and then has to hack it all off makes me feel awful for her, but. it's hilarious. Sorry, Anne. Her friendship with Diana is so sweet but also so funny to me because they really are the most chaotic duo of the 1880s. The scene where Anne accidentally gives her alcohol instead of fruit juice is so mortifying but so, so funny. Amidst all of the insane situations that Anne gets into are a lot of really heartwarming moments and relationships. Matthew and Marilla adopting Anne, even though they wanted a boy, because she's so endearing and alone in the world is probably what made me who I am today. I still haven't gotten around to watching Anne with an E, but I've heard it's amazing. I look forward to watching it when I have the time :).

10. Daphne Blake (Scooby Doo)

My first ever favourite character! Another one who I don't have a tonne to say about. She's an icon, she's a legend, and she is the moment. She has done nothing wrong, ever. She knows martial arts, so watch out.

Honourable mentions: Thor (MCU), Finnick Odair (The Hunger Games), Gretchen Weiners (Mean Girls), Jake Peralta (Brooklyn 99), Maurice Moss (The IT Crowd), The Eleventh Doctor (Doctor Who), James (The End of the F***ing World), Ali Abdul (Squid Game).

If you read all of this then thanks, and have a great day!

[godlessandwrecked]

good bad luck | p. parker

the black cat — a master burglar who has come swinging into peter’s life like a fist, to snap him out of it with witty comments and breath-taking punches. even when he thinks he hates her, he absolutely adores her, and unfortunately for him, he’s failed to realize he’s falling until he’s inches off the ground…

PAIRING: peter parker (mcu) x blackcat! fem reader

WORD COUNT: 6k

CONTENTS: post nwh, peter’s pov, pining and blushy messy peter, some suggestive stuff but mostly sfw, a lot of cute banter and a heist? also, i mention the cat has white hair like once, but she’s completely self-insertable, just like the rest of my fics!

A/N: tried to be as loyal to the black cat as I could because I adore her in the comics, but I totally made her my own here for the sake of having a version that would make sense with a younger Peter :)  first time writing for Tom’s Peter and I’m: scared. ok enjoy <3

Peter’s number one, most hated, vilest enemy he’s fighting nowadays is… biochemistry. And he’s losing, by a lot. Not because he doesn't possess the capabilities to defeat said enemy, but because New York City doesn’t give him a damn rest, and he’s exhausted.

In the few months he’s been in college, to no one’s surprise, he’s already managed to be late on a pile of assignments. He doesn’t have the time to work on them, and even when he does and sits down to get on with it, it’s like his brain won’t stop running. 

It should be easy for him—he’s good at it and he’s passionate about it, after all—but he can’t focus on the task at hand. His brain keeps shifting back to the city, to the rooftops, to the people who need his help, to her, and suddenly his cheeks start heating up and he’s back to thinking of how good it would feel to swing around the city, with the sun behind him and the wind whizzing by, clearing his mind of everything.

Peter huffs, clicking the delete key on his run-down laptop until the two lines he’s managed to write in the last half an hour disappear from the document, leaving it blank once more. His suit stares back at him from the other side of the room, laying on a chair, the goggles on his mask ogling at him, as if begging him to please put it on and take it out for a stroll.

For a few seconds he thinks he’s actually going to give in, but then he shakes his head, reprimanding himself and murmuring a No. No, Peter. No. He can’t keep avoiding his responsibilities, he needs to get the assignment done. College is far too expensive for him to throw it all away just to swing around like a monkey. He’ll have plenty of time to do that later.

He accommodates back on his chair, cracks his knuckles, and is about to begin typing away when–

Tap tap tap. 

His head shoots to his right, facing the window where the sound has come from, to be met with nothing but that—the window. Chastising himself for getting distracted once more, he returns to his work, thinking it must have been the wind, or a knocking next-door.

But as soon as he looks away, there it is again, tap tap tap on the glass. 

He turns on his chair once more, expecting nothing again, but gives a little jump at what he sees, surprisingly startled. 

A head hangs upside down from the top of his window, wide eyes staring at him through even bigger spectacles, hair the color of snow flowing in the breeze.

He furrows, “Again?”

She waves happily, still upside down, and points at the lock on the window, asking him to let her in. She could bust it open easily—she is the best cat burglar ever, after all—but she doesn’t want to get him in trouble with his landlord. Not again.

“What are you doing?” he asks, slightly annoyed as she jumps over the windowsill and into his one-room apartment. 

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asks with that playfulness that comes naturally to her, even in the worst of situations.

“I told you not to come around here, Cat. Someone could see you.”

“So what? No one’s gonna think you,” a sharp fingernail pokes at his chest, “Of all people, are Spider-Man.”

“Wow, thank you. A lot. That’s really kind.”

“I’m joking, Spider. Who’s gonna see me hanging out of your window on a 4th story, anyway?”

“My neighbors? I don’t know. Don’t do it again.”

“Relax, Spider-Boy. I won’t,” she rolls her eyes, and he knows reprimanding her is of no use. She’ll do it again whenever she pleases.

Peter’s eyes follow her as she moves around his apartment comfortably, opening up cabinets in search of food, running her fingers over the notes on biophysical chemistry on his kitchen counter, straightening up items here and there. He watches with narrow eyes as she finds a pack of cookies and pops one into her mouth, sitting down on his bed. 

How has this become his life? Two months ago they were kicking each other’s asses out in the cold, and now she’s laying on his pillow. He’s not sure if he likes it or it unnerves him, how naturally it comes to her to invade his personal space.

“What are you up to? Wanna go out for a stroll?” she asks, still chewing. 

“No. I’m doing school work.”

“Okay.”

They sit in silence while he waits for her to get the hint and leave, but she doesn’t, just stares at him. So he stares back, blinking awkwardly, arms crossed, and then cocks his head toward the window.

“Oh, you want me to leave?” she realizes.

“Well, yeah, I have things to do.”

“I’ll be really quiet,” she shakes her head, a grin on her face. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

Sure.

He’s probably going to regret this, but how can he tell her no? She’s not going to leave either way, and the more he presses, the more she’ll do the exact opposite. He knows her well by now. 

For a few minutes, as he stares at the blinking cursor on his screen, he actually believes he’s going to get some work done, but he can hear the tapping of her fingers on the leather of her suit, the steady up and down of her breathing, and if he concentrates hard enough, even the fluttering of her lashes. It’s driving him nuts.

His brain is foggy, and he’s itching for that freedom only the free-falling can provide him with. And he’s thinking of last week, when they played tag over Queens, swinging and chasing each other around narrow alleys and crowded streets. It’s just what he needs, exactly what the doctor ordered. 

Peter gets up from his chair abruptly, closing his laptop and already reaching for his suit, “Okay, let’s go.”

And they’re stumbling back onto a rooftop, giggling and out of breath. This in particular is the one they favor, one that overlooks Central Park, and a little further away, the Empire State, peeking its pointy head over the less impressive skyscrapers. 

They sit at the edge, legs dangling off the ledge, watching as the sun sets and hides behind the buildings in the distance, recalling the amazing stunt she’d pulled by swinging off his web and landing flawlessly on her feet.

It’s funny how things work. She found out about his identity completely by accident two months ago, catching him half naked in an alley, all bloody, with his suit torn and no mask on. “I knew you were cute, Spider,” was all she said as she offered him a hand to help him back home, and ever since then, they’d grown closer. 

Now that she’s on his side–at least, most of the time–he finds himself enjoying his patrolling nights. Their nights together. Sometimes he even catches himself looking forward to the sun setting, running back home from class, dying to get into his suit just to do this. And he likes doing it with her. He’d spent so much time alone, he’d forgotten how good it felt to just be around somebody, no matter how bothersome they are.

It really does mess with his head, because technically, he’s not supposed to like her. She’s been trouble from the start, and she’s made things more complicated for him countless times, but he has so much fun with her. And sure, if he doesn’t think about the morality of her profession, she’s the best partner he could ask for. 

“These are really good,” he points out, scrolling through the pictures she’d taken of him mid-air on his second-hand camera.

He’s been selling pictures of Spider-Man to The Bugle for a couple months now. It’s a job he’d rather not do—after all, they do literally hate his guts over there—but it’s one he has to do if he wants to keep a roof over his head. At least, now he doesn’t have to tape his camera to a wall to take his pictures. She does the job for him.

“I have many talents.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” he says absentmindedly. 

Her brow shoots up, “Can you, now?”

His slow brain doesn’t realize she’s messing with him until a few seconds later, when he sees through the teasing smirk on her face and her comment downs on him. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re so easy,” she laughs in a bright smile that reminds Peter a little too much of pure sunshine, pointing out his reddening cheeks. “Anyway, wanna make out?”

“Wh- what?” he chokes out. Did he hear correctly?

“I said: do you wanna get takeout?”

“I don’t think that’s what you said.” 

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

He’s sure his face is bright red at this point. Now he’s really wishing he hadn’t taken his mask off. She’s messing with him again, and he’s fallen for it, again. How embarrassing. “Why are you like this?” 

“Like what?”

“Do you have a thing for me blushing or…?”

“You are just so damn cute, Spider,” she bumps his shoulder, leaning into him slightly. 

She blinks slowly, her lashes fluttering softly, and Peter starts shaking. 

Maybe not literally, but on the inside, it feels like every cell on his body is vibrating, shaking away, like turbulence on an airplane, and he feels like he’s about to crash. It’s too late to worry about a bad landing, because he’s already trying to shove his wildly beating heart back into his ribcage before it spills out through his mouth.

Fortunately for him, just as he feels himself shifting forward the slightest bit, before he dares do something stupid, she stands up in a gush of energy and leaps onto the ledge of the roof.

She walks along the dangerously narrow path, putting one foot in front of the other with cat-like grace, her arms spread out. He knows her balance is quite literally perfect, knows she would never fall, and if she did, she would land on her feet, and yet, he can’t help it, it comes out of his mouth, easy as breathing, “Be careful.”

She turns around to face him, a smile on her face that is as sweet as is dangerous; a double edged sword. “Would you catch me? If I fell?”

“Always.”  

And he means it, of course he does. She’s the closest thing he’s had to a friend the past few months, the only person who has been around, getting to know Spider-Man, and now Peter Parker alike. 

After losing everything he’d ever had, he felt lost, angry and lonely. And that’s when she came around, swinging into his life like a fist, to slap him back into the world of the living and fill him with something other than grief. 

Those first few months, when he chased her around the city, hoping to catch her with her hands on the smoking gun, he felt alive again. And then everything changed between them, and she went from foe to friend. 

Now he can’t think about patrolling without thinking of her. He can’t picture the night without an image of her popping into his head, with her bratty attitude and wolfish grin, about to make a comment that will turn his ears pink. But he enjoys it, how she fills up the silence, how warm he feels next to her. Sometimes that warmth is anger and annoyance, sometimes it’s other things. Things he doesn’t dare admit, at least not yet.

She doesn’t say anything at his answer, even though he’s well aware that it sounds more like a confession than an offhand comment. If it has affected her in any way that isn’t prideful, she doesn’t let it show,  just smiles triumphantly. 

She’s got him wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. And maybe he’s in deeper than he thought he was. Maybe.

•••

A week of absolutely no distractions and assignment after assignment has given Peter a lot of time to think about various things. He’s come to a few realizations:

He should probably not take off his mask when he’s around the Cat, just so he won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing him blush anymore.

College really is just not worth it.

He can’t live off of cheese strings and coffee.

College is not worth it again.

There’s a criminal organization in New York he needs to take down sooner than later.

Maybe he should’ve gone grocery shopping first, but he’s already barging into their shared rooftop, letting go of the web that swung him there to walk up to the Cat, already waiting for him and picking at her long nails. 

“We’re gonna steal something!” 

“Hello to you, too. Did you say “We”?” she grins, instantly intrigued. “That’s very immoral of you, Spidey.”

Normally, yes, he would find it immoral, but this is an exception. He’s been thinking about it for over a month now, and every time he runs it over in his head, it becomes more and more clear that he needs her expert hand if he wants it to be successful. 

“It’s for the greater good.”

“Okay. What are we stealing?

“Just some records. Numbers. Proof.”

“Records,” her brow shoots up. “From whom?”

Peter kisses his cheek, dreading this moment, and whispers the answer through his teeth, almost inaudibly as he scratches at the nape of his neck. She gets a little closer to him, her inquisitive look piercing right through him, “Huh? You’re gonna have to speak a little louder. I don’t have your abilities, Spidey.”

“The Maggia.”

Her eyes widen. “The Maggia? Yeah, no, thank you,” she turns away from him and starts to walk in the opposite direction. “Already did that once and it was…not good.”

Maybe he doesn’t need need her help, but she is really good at what she does, and besides, he wants her by his side. Of course, he’s not about to tell her that, no need to feed her ego. 

“Please,” he pouts under the mask, holding her back by her wrist so she doesn’t walk away from him. Begging doesn’t work with her, not at all, but he can try. “I can’t do it without you.”

Her stance softens at that, so she sighs, annoyed, “You know I’m all about being reckless, but not without a good reason. So what’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you’re going to help a lot of people by overthrowing organized crime?”

“Ugh,” her nose scrunches up in disgust. 

“Why do you always need to get something out of it? We have a deal, don’t we? You help me sometimes, and I overlook your ‘visits’ to the Guggenheim,” he says, making air-quotes.

“Why do you care about that, anyway? I’m like Robin Hood.”

“You’re the British Museum at best.” She gasps, looking extremely offended for a few seconds, her hand over her heart, so he clarifies, “You don’t take from the rich to give to the poor.”

“Yes, I do. The rich being,” she makes a vague gesture with her hand, as if batting away some fly. “And the poor being me, of course.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“Whatever you say.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, catching her before she tries to divert the conversation. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Her eyes roll, “Well, if I must…”

Barely a few hours later, once the sun has set, the crescent moon providing them with enough coverage in the shadows, they’re already on the go, towards the outskirts of the city.  

It only takes them a few minutes to get to their destination, and once they do, they wait, watching the entrance of the property from their hiding place in the heights, observing in silence and coming up with their plan of action. 

“Rooftop, you think? The skylight?” asks Peter.

“Yeah, that’ll be the quickest and safest way. You web me down, I’ll get whatever I can find. Nobody will even notice we were here. Easy as that.”

“Are you sure? I should go in with you.”

“No. They probably have security systems you won’t be able to recognize or avoid. I’ll go in. You keep watch.”

“I really think I should go in with you. What if–”

“Spider,” she interrupts him, getting closer to him until they’re face to face, inches away. “Let me do my thing. You don’t need to worry about it.”

Peter is not particularly fond of this plan, but she’s the expert at this sort of thing, so he follows after her, silently swinging past the guards patrolling the perimeter and landing on the rooftop unnoticed. Once they reach the skylight at the center of it, she pulls a pin out of her suit and starts fumbling with the lock with expert hands. 

Nearly two seconds later, it pops open, “Ta-da!” 

“Wow. You are really good at that.”

“The best,” she announces happily. “Alright, pull me down.”

They manage to create some sort of make-shift harness out of his webs, wrapping them around her waist tightly so he’ll be able to hold her easily and bring her in and out of the facility with no problem. Once they’re done, she jumps down into the building with no hesitation, and he steadies himself, bending his knees and planting his feet firmly on the floor to hold her up. 

And damn her, because even now, as he slowly lowers her down the skylight, she looks beautiful, with the moon shining down on her, her body contorting on the web to keep herself steady, her doe eyes looking up at him, instructing him to go a little slower now, more to the right then.

The Cat has many good qualities and abilities, but Peter found out very quickly that the weapon she wields the best is her beauty—a perfectly angled knife that slashes through him, punctures his lungs and leaves him gasping for air. It’s the one thing he hasn’t learnt how to dodge yet.

“Spider?” she asks suddenly. “Why’d you stop?”

“Sorry,” he clears his throat and resumes his job in aiding her to rappel down. “Got distracted.”

“Why? Do you like what you see? Is that what it is?” she purrs, obviously trying to make him tick. He’s not falling for it this time.

“Sure. Indiana Jones could never,” he jokes, and unfortunately it’s true. He might have the style, but he doesn’t have the elegance nor the effortlessness of the Black Cat.  “What do you see?”

“Give me a second. It’s too dark.”

“You can’t be too far off the ground, can you?” It’s just a warehouse. “Can you?” he asks again, but there’s no answer, so he tries once more, “Cat?” 

No answer still. Was this part of the plan? Wasn’t he supposed to get confirmation that she’d made it in? Sure, they didn’t talk about that, but isn’t it a normal thing to check on? Now he can’t recall what they’d discussed and his palms are starting to get sweatier and sweatier by the minute. 

She told him to wait and keep watch, but he can’t just sit back. He has no business getting so worried, so quickly, but he’s not the most patient person, and he doesn’t like a single one of the hundred different scenarios that are rushing through his mind right now. 

So he jumps into the building, with no thought in him but his partner getting hurt or taken or worse. And two seconds later as he lands on a dark hallway, just like she said he would, he triggers some sort of alarm, and the whole building goes on full blast, blaring a high pitched noise, bright red flashing lights and all. 

“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath. 

Peter doesn’t know what to do except run, instead of back through the skylight, right down the hallway, in search of The Cat. Just when he rounds out the corner, running frantically like a maniac, he slams hard against something, sending him almost straight to the floor.

“Peter?” 

“Oh, thank God, you’re okay,” he places his arms on her shoulders to ground himself, relieved once he sees her, safe and sound. 

“What did you do?” she asks, annoyed, over the deafening sound of the alarm.

“You weren’t answering! So I came in.” 

“Yeah, no shit.” Red light illuminates her face, matching her annoyance. “I was doing my job. You clearly didn’t do yours very well.”

“Uh, excuse me, lady, for worrying about you.”

“Get us out of here, Spider. Out, out,” she taps his shoulders.

They run back down the hallway, to make their way out of the skylight once more, and he’s wrapping his arm around her waist to swing them both out and away when-

A bullet whizzes past them, making them jump. 

“Holy fu-”

“You!” Two burly men in suits are sprinting down the corridor towards them, guns pointed, fingers on the trigger and ready to shoot again. 

Peter tugs at her hand to get her out of there, but she steps in front of him instead, on the line of fire.

“Watch out! Faulty construction!” she yells out in a mocking tone, and somehow, the whole ceiling panel ahead of them breaks away and tumbles down onto the men, knocking them down and burying them under plaster. “Oops!”

Peter’s eyes widen, weirdly impressed. Those bad luck powers truly are something. 

And as soon as he’s about to praise her and her little stunt, a whole group of mobsters round the corner, marching at them with all kinds of weapons ready to fire. They’re way too many to fight on their own, so like real heros do in times of trouble, they make a run for it.

“Hold on tight!” His arm wraps around her waist as her legs wrap around his, and Peter leaps out of the skylight, carrying them both out into the night.

A bullet whizzes by way too close to them, cutting through the air and making his hair stand on end as he shoots out a web to propel them towards the edge of the building. He jumps off the railing, the arm around her tightening its grip, and for a couple of seconds where time stands completely still, they’re free falling, and falling, and falling, until Peter shoots out another web, preventing them from slamming onto the pavement.

He swings them back to his apartment, his mood souring further the closer they get, guilt starting to creep in as the adrenaline washes away. Perching her gently on the window ledge, he allows her to crack it open and let them in easily, too defeated to even try to argue about it.

He rips his mask off as soon as he steps in, throwing it across the room carelessly. “Damn it,” he barks frustratedly, kicking the floor. “I messed it up, didn’t I? I almost got us killed.”

“You did,” she nods her head, adjusting the fur on her collar. “But it was fun. A little run in with the mob is always good. Could’ve gone worse.”

“Fun? They were firing multiple guns at us. That wasn’t fun, that was insane!”

“Spider-”

“That was all my fault! I almost- How could I be so stupid?”

“I can assure you, you can get stupider. it wasn’t that big of a deal,” she tries to cut in again, but Peter keeps on frantically pacing, his breathing getting agitated, his face blotchy.

“I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened to you.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh my god! I put you in danger! I fucked up and I put you in danger and it was all for nothing-”

“Peter!” 

Now, that shuts him right up. 

“I swear to God, you better shut up right now.”

But he’s so caught off guard that he wouldn’t be able to speak even if he tried. 

Peter.

She has never called him that. Never by his name. Always Spider, sometimes Spidey, other times any weird name that crosses her mind. Never Peter. And he doesn’t understand why he’s so shocked by it, but he guesses it’s because it’s been a while since he’s heard his name coming out of the mouth of a friend.

And the realization is soul-crushing. 

He’s too preoccupied with that to process anything else she’s saying or to notice how she’s ruffling through her pockets in search of something. 

“Hey!” she snaps her fingers to get his attention. “Who said it was for nothing, huh?” she purrs, a smirk on her face, and in her hand, between her index and thumb, a shiny, silver pendrive, glinting in the dim light, like the final quest reward in some videogame.

He takes it from her and studies it in his hand, fascinated with the little token and even more fascinated by her and her abilities and how she somehow keeps surprising him again and again. “Cat, I could kiss you right now.”

“All in its right time,” she laughs, sitting beside him on the end of his bed, her hand on his shoulder. “I told you I had your back if you had mine, didn’t I? When I found out,” she points at his face. “I meant it. Don’t beat yourself up. We did this together. I know you don’t like me most of the time, but-”

“Don’t say that. I do. Like you. All of the time.”

How could he not? Even back when he thought he hated her, he adored her. Cherished every second they spent together, throwing punches and kicking each other in the shins, throwing witty and snarky comments back and forth like daggers. 

Bold and brass, she’d shaken him awake from a deep slumber. Not gently like the warmth of the early morning sun on your closed eyelids would, heating up your chilling bones; but more like the punching shock and the grimace that follows after sucking on a lemon. Or getting kicked in the mouth, those terrible seconds when you notice that rusty taste on your tongue and you check in fear if you’ve still got all of your teeth. 

That's how she makes him feel, which is not a pretty picture, but somehow explains it perfectly. 

“That’s very sweet of you, lover,” she says with a fond smile. “I like you too, even when you’re scolding me for being a master at my craft and looking good while doing it.”

“Ha-ha,” he fake-laughs despondently. His hand finds hers on her knee, and he interlocks their fingers, squeezing reassuringly. “Is that really what you think? That I don’t like you?”

“Not really. I’ve seen your cheeks turn bright red enough times to know it’s not exactly anger. But…”

“What is it?”

“I dunno. I feel like there is a side of me you can’t get behind, and that really bothers me,” she says honestly, in a tone he’s not used to hearing from her. “This is not a game to me. You know that, right? I know I say I’m having fun all the time, but really, I do have my reasons for doing this. I’d much rather be in college, like you are.”

The breaking and entering, the robberies, the fights, the getting acquainted with the wrong people. Of course he knows there’s a reason behind all of it. She’s young and on her own. He doesn’t know what brought her to this point, but he understood from the beginning that she’s just looking out for herself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “If I ever made you feel bad about that. I know you’re just doing what you need to do. We all are.” They just have different ways to it. But he can’t judge her for that.

“It’s okay,” and her smile is back. Sunny and undefeated. “You couldn’t bring me down if you tried. I’ll beat your ass.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” he laughs with her, and it flows easy and free, his chest feeling lighter, his hand still on hers.

But then the laughter dies down, and the silence settles in, and they stare at each other with nothing to say for once. They’re sitting way too close together. The faint fragrance of her perfume–something sweet and floral he hasn't had the chance to indulge in until now–fills up his nostrils, making his head spin. 

Tentatively, he reaches up, his gloved hand meeting the side of her face, and he expects her to pull away, make some comment about him keeping his hands to himself. But surprisingly, she gets even closer, nuzzles into his touch, and he’s suddenly wishing he wasn’t wearing his suit, just to feel her warm cheek under his fingers.

“Can I?” he simply whispers.

Their eyes meet, and she nods coyly, giving him the green light to move forward. His fingers clasp around her goggles, perfectly fitted to her face, and he pulls them off, slowly. 

She once said she wore them only for theatrics, not to actually hide who she was, because she was too pretty for that, and besides, no one would ever catch her. Peter wasn't too sure about that, but he agreed on the former. 

He’s never seen her without them, and even if they don’t do much in covering her face, it feels weirdly intimate. Like some sort of metaphorical mask; a veil that’s being lifted to reveal truths, ones that he suspects have been ready to be uttered for a while now. 

And it’s like he’s seeing her for the first time all over again. 

He remembers the shock, the awe, the intrigue. It still feels fresh in his mind, imprinted there, the way it does when someone makes one hell of a first impression. He recalls every single move she’d made during that first fight, every punch she’d thrown, every kick he’d received. 

And yet, all of it dissolves into nothing but feelings and sensations, faint memories, because the girl in front of him–the girl he’s seeing–is not The Black Cat, infamous master burglar. He’s seeing her, just the girl, more akin to him than he’ll ever know.

The girl, who fills his nights with giggles and joy, amidst the blood and the bruises and the darkness. 

Sure, she enjoys teasing him, toying with him, pressing all the wrong and right buttons. Her presence is intoxicating in all senses of the word. Most of the time, he finds her extremely annoying, especially when she goes a little rogue, but he wouldn’t trade her company for anything. She fills up all the empty spaces in his life left by the people who are gone, and the ones that no longer know him. But she does–know him. He’s gotten the chance to start over, with her, a blank slate.

He’s afraid he’s given her too much of an in into his life, and having someone know about his identity again is terrifying, it strangely feels like he’s doing it all over again. He just hopes history doesn’t repeat itself, and although he’s learned to not take anything for certain, the one thing he knows is that he wants her here, by his side. He wants her.

He can pinpoint that feeling now, clear as day. It’s that very last second playing roulette, when you see it’s about to land on red after you’ve bet all of your money on it. 

He might have just gotten lucky.

Before he knows it, he’s leaning in, and after a beat of a heart, his lips are on hers.

She doesn’t pull away, just leans into it, letting him take the reins of the kiss, his hand cupping her cheek, her hand wrapping around his wrist. She presses on a little closer, her other hand falling onto his thigh that’s brushing against hers on the bed, tainting the kiss with a fervor unfamiliar to him. He welcomes it gladly, allowing her to climb onto his lap, his hands coming to rest on her waist, pressing her body against his as she lays him on his bed. 

Her kiss is tender, and strangely sweet considering she’s sitting on top of him, but not gentle–more so, demanding. He’s tempted to move his hands on her waist a little lower, explore every inch of that damned leather suit, but he doesn’t dare move them, just keeps kissing her. It’s only when her hands start snaking down his body and her lips move down his jaw and neck to plant open-mouthed kisses there that he snaps out of it

“Wait, wait,” he pulls away, holding her face in his hands. He can’t believe he’s saying no to a girl already in his bed–even if it’s the stuff of his wildest fantasies and a younger version of him would smack him on the back of his neck–but he wants to do this the right way. He owes her that. “I really like you.”

“I can tell,” she assures him with half a smirk, her eyes drifting down between their bodies. 

But he doesn’t blush this time, not even under her scorching gaze. “And I really, really want to keep kissing you.”

“Okay,”

“But I really, really care about you, so let’s not jinx it?”

“You really just don’t like fun, huh?” she sighs.

He laughs, sitting up to rest his forehead against hers, his nose gently grazing hers, his hands flat on her back. “I wanna be with you, Cat,” he whispers.

She just studies him silently, pondering his words, her mind surely working through a hundred different scenarios and outcomes. “You’re too good for me, Peter.”

By the way she’s looking at him, he can almost hear her next words in the silence. I’m not a hero. I’m not some broken toy you can fix. I’m a thief, proudly so. And I’ll always be one. You can’t change that.

And that’s the thing: he doesn't want her to change. He’ll take the good with the bad, the shiny and the rusted. He likes her as she is. Even if she does not understand boundaries, even if she’ll go to the ends of the world just to see him blush at one of her dirty comments. 

Most of the time, she represents everything he’s trying to fight, but it’s like every single time he thinks he can’t see past it, she surprises him with some small, little confession in the midst of some casual conversation that hits too close to home. He can’t help but feel like there is more to her. There is something hidden under the leather and the pout and the pretty face and the witty, flirty comebacks, and he’s more than willing to uncover it all, if she’ll let him.

“What if it doesn’t work?” she asks, their bodies still tangled together on his bed. “What if it ends up horribly and I’m just someone else you have to lose?”

Peter places the softest of kisses on her forehead.

She looks so sad, and he gets it; he really does after losing everybody. This lifestyle is not easy, and it’s hard to let people in. Fear eats away at you slowly, until you’re left with nothing, all jagged and sharp edges, with a “Danger. Do not touch.” sign printed on your chest. 

But it’s been a year already, a very long year, and he’s already gotten a taste of what a second chance might look like. If he thinks back on everyone who has ever loved him, he knows he can’t let her go. He wants to try his luck.

After all, she came in right when he needed her the most, and if that’s not good luck, he doesn't know what is. It’s a lonely life, the one they’ve chosen, but it’s theirs, and they have each other now. She’s got his back, and he’s got hers.

“I’ll always be there to catch you, remember?”

Both her hands come up to his face, and a second later, she’s kissing him again, with the same passion from that first kiss, but still gently, confirming everything Peter needed to know. That she might be the one–the one who sticks around, who understands him.

She pulls away, with a smile threatening to break free on her face, and whispers against his lips, “You’ll have to let me go about my business, though. You know that.”

His whole face lights up wtih a silly, shit-eating grin. “Don’t I already do that?”

“Alright,” she hums in agreement, tilting her head like a kitten with glossy eyes. “Can we keep kissing now, or…?”

“Yes.”

[musclesandhammering]

Every Single Issue I Have With S*lki (It’s Not Just The Selfcest)

Here goes. I threatened to post this a few days ago and never did, but I just saw a s*lki stan Twitter account claim that Loki caring about Sylvie more than the whole multiverse was a Good And Romantic thing and it pushed me over the fucking edge, so now you all have to read this. I’ve divided it into categories cause there’s just THAT much.

OOC Bullshit

• First and foremost, no amount of mental gymnastics you do will ever make me believe that this specific Loki- the one that just invaded New York, that just came off a year of Thanos Torture, that just got done being influenced by the sceptre, that was literally in the middle of a crisis already, and then on top of that went through all the trauma of Ep 1- would even be worried about a romantic relationship. That would be the furthest thing from his mind. Go back and watch how he acted in Avengers- you think that guy would abandon his previous mission to become a snivelling simp for a girl he’d just met 3 days prior? Yeah, there’s no universe in which that makes sense.

• “It’s very in character for Loki to fall in love with himself lololol-“ NO, it’s literally not. Out of all the characters in the mcu, I don’t think I can think of anyone that genuinely hates themselves more than Loki. He even referred to all his other male variants as “monsters” and said meeting them was “a nightmare” in this series. He’s got so much self-loathing, plus the fact that he genuinely thinks himself to be an evil backstabbing scourge- so there’s no evidence at all suggesting that he would ever develop a fondness for, or even be inclined to trust, another version of himself, after only knowing them for 3 days.

• Building on that, the whole concept of Loki falling in love with a version of himself just feeds into the annoying ass misconception that he’s a narcissist. No matter which way you stack it, he’s not. If you’re referring to NPD, he doesn’t fit the criteria, and if you’re saying “narcissist” just as a slang term meaning “selfish and arrogant”, that still doesn’t accurately describe him. But when creators like Waldron and Herron do things like having him fall in love with himself, it makes it so much easier for casual viewers to think that he is.

Shitty LGBT Rep

• It’s kinda sus that Loki’s are allegedly genderfluid and yet the only female-presenting variant we see (and apparently the only female-presenting variant there is, cause the male Loki’s all seemed unfamiliar with the concept) is treated as some kind of mind-bogglingly special paradox. Also very sus that, out of all the Loki variants, the one our Loki falls in love with just so happens to be the only female one. What a coincidence.

• The fact that the creators of the show went around bragging about Loki’s bisexuality and Marvel purposefully (lbr) allowed stories about Loki possibly having a male love interest to circulate, specifically enticing queer viewers to watch the show (you know, the definition of queerbaiting), and then instead of having a male love interest (Loki was the first queer main character, so it was the perfect opportunity) they gave us *gestures to this dumpster fire* this… it’s just a middle finger to LGBT fans. The fact that they would rather have this relationship with all its myriad of problems than have a gay relationship is just……. Very telling.

• While him being with a woman obviously doesn’t refute his bisexuality, the fact that they showed/talked about him being interested in 3 different women (flight attendant, Sylvie, Sif) and never even hinted at him being attracted to a man, definitely makes it seem like they were trying to cover up his bisexuality to smooth things over with the more homophobic viewers. You know? It’s like “I know you’re pissed that we sorta confirmed Loki as bi, so we promise we’ll never mention it again! Or even hint at it! As a matter of fact, we’ll give him lots of female lovies and make him seem as straight as possible! That’ll take your mind off of that horrible crumb of queer rep, right? Please please please keep giving us your money!!!”

• Aside from all the other issues, at its core, the biggest reason why I think I’m so irritated with s*lki is that it took one of the most interesting, complex, and diverse characters in cinema atm and squished him into a tired ass unnecessary heteronormative subplot…. Like literally every. single. other. protagonist. ever. Loki is such a unique character, and it’s so so so incredibly disappointing that they stuck him into that same boring cookie cutter romance that happens to every other character in every other movie I’ve ever seen. It’s a disservice, and it’s honestly just not compelling or entertaining at all.

Thematic Issues Galore

• His arc didn’t need a romance. With anyone. It was unnecessary and it didn’t make sense plot-wise. In fact, one of the reasons he was my fav prior to this was because he was the only big-name mcu character whose story wasn’t muddied-up by a romance that didn’t need to be there. So much for that.

• He wasn’t emotionally ready for a romantic relationship with anyone. Hell, just a genuine friendship would’ve been pushing it for him at this point. He was in such a bad state that any relationship he got into would’ve been toxic and unhealthy for both him and the other person, and it doesn’t make sense why the writers would want to put him in one when there were so many cons and essentially no pros (other than “Uwu aren’t they cute together”).

• Sylvie’s character in general was unnecessary and Loki’s character was robbed just by her being there. The whole show became about her post-Ep 2. They spent most of the time giving her backstory, building her up, telling us how awesome she is, trying to convince us to like her, etc when what they really needed to be doing was building Loki up- cause I gotta say, if I had to describe TVA!Loki in a few words, they would be Flat, Boring, and Weak.

• The romance overtakes the plot. They spend time portraying their supposed connection that could’ve been spent adding depth and complexity to literally any of the characters. They make the big Nexus Event them giving each other googly eyes on Lamentis when it could’ve been so many other way more profound things that speak to the fundamental nature of Loki’s. They have the climax of the finale be “oh no she betrayed him to kill He Who Remains” when it could’ve been something way more compelling (Loki having a moral crisis over whether or not to kill HWR, Loki contemplating the state of the multiverse and weighing the pros and cons of freedom vs order, Loki looking into some What If situations and getting emotional about what could’ve been regarding his family, Loki realising the gravity of HWR’s offer and finally coming to terms with how important he is to the universal cycle, etc etc). The entire plot suffered in favour of a romance that half of us didn’t even want.

• It essentially reduced all of Loki’s potential character growth down to “He did it for his crush.” He seemed to at least have some motivations of his own in Ep 1-2 (feeble as they were) but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, literally every action he took was just him being a simp for her. Why did he lie in the interrogation? To try to protect Sylvie. Why did he fight the minutemen and Timekeepers? To survive kinda, but mostly cause it was important to Sylvie. Why did he get pruned? Cause he got distracted trying to confess his crush to Sylvie. Why did he try to get out of The Void? Cause he thought Sylvie needed him. Why did he stay in The Void? Cause Sylvie was staying. Why did he try to enchant Alioth? Cause Sylvie told him to. Why did the multiverse get cracked open, leading to an infinite number of Kangs waging war on all of existence? Cause Loki didn’t wanna hurt Sylvie in their fight at the Citadel and then get distracted by her kissing him. It’s uninteresting and honestly pretty embarrassing.

• Throughout their “relationship arc” the writers do their absolute damndest to convince us that we should like Sylvie more than Loki. And you know what? It’s the most hypocritical shit I’ve ever seen. They preach and preach about how Sylvie’s life has been so difficult/we should feel bad for her/she had it so bad/poor poor sylvie/she had it SO much worse than pampered prince Loki…. But then they never even touch on any of Loki’s trauma of hardships (the ones that have been ignored for literally 3 movies now). They frame Sylvie as a good person and a Freedom Fighter after she spent literal decades/centuries mass-murdering brainwashed TVA agents and showing exactly zero remorse for it….. but then they make it their mission to constantly remind us that Loki is a terrible person and constantly put him in situations where he’s forced to acknowledge his wrongdoings/show remorse/admit to how “evil” he is for being a mass murderer for like 2 years. They show him on-screen having a wider range of powers than her, and perpetuate his whole shtick of being a “master manipulator” or whatever….. But then they make Sylvie “the brawn” more competent, intelligent, and physically capable than him. Tell me how it’s a good thing for a ship to be so narratively biased toward one character.

Missed Opportunities

• If they absolutely had to have a romance subplot, then they could’ve paired Loki with one of the characters that have already been established OR one of the characters that were a big part of the whole TVA storyline anyway. It would’ve been so interesting if they’d revealed that Loki had a history with some of the players from previous films (Sif and Fandral both come to mind). It also would’ve been really interesting if they’d given Loki a love interest that actually had some allegiance to the TVA as a whole (Mobius maybe, but not necessarily. It also could’ve been Renslayer or B-15). Hell, imo it would’ve been cool if they’d followed through with that “See you again someday” line that he said to the flight attendant in Ep 1. ALL of these characters have way more chemistry with him than Sylvie, and they were also already relevant to the plot without wasting half the show to give background info on them.

• If they absolutely had to have a hetero-presenting love story involving an enchantress-type figure, then there’s a whole Enchantress (Amora) that was actually Loki’s love interest in the comics. Plus, fans have been screaming for Amora to appear in the mcu for years. Plus, Tom literally pitched an Amora/Loki storyline way back in 2012-13. Also, Lorelei (another enchantress) is also one of Loki’s love interests in the comics, and she already exists in the mcu (she was on Agents of SHIELD). There were several different established characters for them to choose from. Creating a whole knew amalgamation of a character and going with the “she’s a Loki variant” storyline was just completely unnecessary and made no sense.

• They completely robbed us of a Chaos Twins dynamic. Had they handled Sylvie better and not forced her and Loki to smooch, the two of them could’ve had a really really complex and interesting sibling relationship. Loki could’ve stepped into Thor’s shoes and sort of used that new role to gain some self importance, and Sylvie could’ve finally had somebody to look out for her/teach her magic/be there for her. It would’ve been very aesthetically pleasing, the vibes would’ve been out of this world, it would’ve been way more profound than this bs, and frankly it would’ve been much more entertaining to watch.

• Loki’s relationship (read: obsession) with Sylvie completely overshadows all Loki’s other relationships in the show. Loki and Mobius were literally the focal point of the series in Ep 1-2, but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, they barely had any interactions with each other, and Mobius pretty much faded to the background entirely. Loki had the beginnings of a pretty interesting antagonistic relationship with Renslayer (with her wanting him pruned, then arguing with Mobius that he couldn’t be trusted), but after Sylvie showed up the dynamic shifted to focus on the history between her and Ravonna. Loki and B-15 started off very badly and openly disliked each other throughout Ep 1-2, and then in the end of Ep 2, Loki showed a little bit of concern for her when she was possessed, hinting that they might be inching toward a reconciliation- especially considering how obvious it was that Loki was gonna uncover the TVA’s sins eventually. There was so much potential for him to be the one to give her her memories back and convince her to change sides, but no, of course that honor went to Sylvie. In fact, after Sylvie showed up, Loki and B-15 never even spoke to each other again.

Various S*lki Fails

• If they were trying to convince us that this affection was mutual, they completely failed. There’s nothing I’ve seen that even hints at Sylvie feeling the same way about Loki that he does about her. At most, I’d say she has a slight endearment to him. She finds him likeable and she’s grudgingly fond of him, but she definitely isn’t in love with the guy. Maybe she thinks he’s cute and hopes that he gets out of this mess alright, but her mission obviously comes before him- whereas, it’s been confirmed multiple times that Loki cares about her above anything else. She doesn’t trust him, she looks at him like he’s an incompetent fool half the time, she shows little to no reaction during most of his confession moments, and she kissed him as a means to distract him so that she could get him out of her way. Look, all I’m saying is, when you get into a relationship where one of you is way more invested than the other, it never ends well.

• This goes without saying for a lot of us, but the selfcest is just straight up odd and cringey. If you’re cool with that sort of thing, fine! People can ship what they want! But don’t pretend it’s not at least a little bit uncomfortable. Yes, I know they’re not technically siblings so it’s not technically incest, and they’re also not technically the exact same person, but they’re similar enough that it makes things weird. And yes I know selfcest can’t happen in real life, so there’s no way to judge it morally, but neither can most of the other stuff that happens in these shows/movies (the Snap, Loki destroying jotunheim, superhero with powers being held accountable, mind control) and yet we still find ways to judge their morality, because they all mirror real-world events. (The snap= genocide; Loki destroying Jotunheim= bombing other countries; superhero accountability= weapons accountability; mind control= grooming and coercion). And lbr the closest real-world mirror to two versions of the same person (who may or may not share DNA, family, backgrounds, physical and emotion characteristics) being romantically involved with one another is incest. And you can be ok with that if you want- that’s your prerogative- but don’t get pissy just cause a lot of us are squicked out by it.

• The whole mirror metaphor (learning self love via each other) thing just fell completely flat. First of all, having Loki learn to love himself by looking at someone who mirrors him did not, in any way shape or form, require them to be romantically involved. But they were. Of course. Secondly, the creators have contradicted themselves so many times on whether Loki and Sylvie are the same or not, that it doesn’t even really register to the viewer that the mirroring thing was what they were going for. Finally, Loki and Sylvie are shown to have so little in common- and to have only the most bare minimum of similarities personality-wise- that it doesn’t even make sense that Loki would “learn to love himself through loving her”. Like? They’re nothing alike. So how would he make the connection that he himself is actually pretty cool, based on her alone? There’s virtually nothing in her that reflects him.

• I know the objective of the entire show was to convince us of how awesome and unique Sylvie is, but honestly her relationship with Loki just did the opposite. A hallmark of a Mary Sue is having her constantly upstage the male lead, and then having him instantly fall madly in love with her anyway. And that’s.. exactly what happened here. Everything they’re doing to try to force her character to be more stan-able is really just forcing her to look more like their self-insert OC. Which is exactly what she is. It would’ve been so much more satisfying if she didn’t have to try so hard to look cool, if they didn’t have to try so hard to make her backstory tear-inducing, if they didn’t have to turn our protagonist into a snivelling simp just to prove how incredible she supposedly is. Very much #GirlBoss energy and we all know how performative and cheap that is.

• The entire thing was too rushed, there was too little build-up, and it was nowhere near believable. As stated above, it’s ridiculously unlikely that Loki would canonically even be interested in Sylvie, and this show did nothing to explain why he was. He just suddenly was. There was nothing they showed us as viewers that would justify a guy as closed-off and preoccupied as Loki falling head-over-heels for a girl he just met. Their was no explanation, no big revelation, no reasoning, it just… kinda happened. And I’m also severely skeptical of any love story that has the characters go in this deep after only 3 45-minute episodes of exposition.

I’m sure there’s other stuff, so if anyone thinks of anything, let me know and I’ll be more than happy to add it. Tagging @janetsnakehole02 @raifenlf @natures-marvel and @brightredsunset800 for expressing interest. This is all your faults.

[euphoriaonpluto]

Queer Representation

Alright let's talk about Loki and Good Omens.

Before anyone tries anything, I am going to state upfront that I am a biromantic asexual. So keep that in mind before you automatically take what I want to say in bad faith and go to accuse me of bigotry.

I want to talk about how the only ones benefitting from the way we handle queer rep discourse right now are the queerphobic networks and execs.

First, let's look at Loki. The MCU's first canonically queer character. Since episode 4 came out yesterday, I have seen multiple accusations go around of people who are upset about the hinted romance between Loki and Sylvie being biphobic. Bi people are allowed to date people of the opposite gender, you say. And of course they are. But you are purposefully missing the whole point of why people are upset.

The MCU is a 13 year old franchise and Loki is the first time they are actively acknowledging the existance of queer people. This, despite how infuriating it is, is pretty par for the course when it comes to fantasy and sci-fi media. These two genres are notoriously horrible when it comes to diversity and the portrayal of queerness. So it's only natural that people are going to be upset about what Disney is doing right now, and no, they aren't upset because they hate bisexuals.

Fiction in inherently limited to what is portrayed on screen/in the text. We don't know a character's every thought and feeling and we have not seen their entire life. Which is why good media follows the 'show not tell' rule. A character making an off-handed comment about their sexuality is never going to be enough representation, not when Marvel continues to refuse to portray explicity queer relationships or have their queer characters have any experiences tied to their queerness at all.

So sure, bisexuals can date people of the opposite gender and still be bisexual, obviously. But why are you guys acting as it that isn't how most bi people are portrayed anyways? Aren't most bisexual characters only shown being in het-alighned relationships and their identities only acknoleghed like a couple of times in passing converations? Please point me to the abundance of bisexual characters in fantasy and sci-fi shows who have actually been shown being in a relationship with a person of the same gender or have explicitly gone through stuff linked to their queer identity. Please go ahead.

Now let's look at Good Omens, specifically Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship. The constant discourse there is that queer relationships don't always need to be physical. "Aziraphale and Crowley can be asexual!!!! They don't have to kiss on screen for their relationship to be valid!!!!!" Okay fine but can you please first point me to all of those explicit mlm couples that you are refering to when you use the word always. What does always mean in this case? Are you telling me that fantasy and sci-fi shows are so oversaturated with explicit mlm and wlw relationships that some change of pace is desparately needed?

All of this discourse around the two shows is purposefully ignoring the history of homophobia in film and TV. Despite the code being removed almost sixty years ago, the film indistry is still in the shackles of the fucking Hays code. Queerness is viewed as dirty and sinful. Queer men and viewed as sick predators. MLM relationships are treated are perverted and nsfw and will someone please think of the children!

So why, please tell me, WHY are you giving the powers that be such loopholes for them to continue to not portray queerness while wearing a brand new woke hat? Do you not realise that you are giving Disney the option to continue to never portray queer relationships because all they had to do was write one short line of dialogue and now whenever someone tries to demand mlm representation they are going to be accused of biphobia. Loki can go on to never be shown having interest in someone of the same gender or having queer experiances at all, be it discussing his identity or anyone else around him acknowledging it or having his part experiences shape his behavior or anything at all that is just part of real queer people's lives. And people will continue to uphold his character as good representation because he said the sentence "a bit of both". Disney would rather Loki go and fuck a female version of himself than portray a mlm relationship on screen and you go and accuse people of biphobia for pointing that out.

Nuance is great. It's needed. But, perhaps, before we start talking about the nuances of sexuality and identity and the nature of queer relationships we should at least get to see some gay people kiss on screen, don't you think? When there is sufficient mlm and wlw representation in fantasy and sci-fi shows and movies, we can go on to talk about all of these things. But until then all you're doing is giving networks the excuse to never show an ounce of queerness on screen and then market their product as queer rep becase the writer said they love each other on twitter and oh if you object to that at all you're acephobic because their relationship doesn't have to be physical! Nevermind that homophobia still holds that industry by the throat and they continue to find gay relationships are disgusting and less than and to be avoided at all cost.

TL:DR - let some gay people kiss on screen first before you start giving networks exuses to not portray explicit queerness.

[pedrito-friskito]

twelve months with the devil - chapter three: december - part i

summary: matt asks for a favour, and you’re happy to oblige.

warnings: no warnings here really, pretty tame, if not just a bit emotional.

a/n: one thing to note - this fic contains matt as a character, and elements of the MCU, but I am tweaking things (plot points/background details/etc. etc.) - keep an open mind!

(series masterlist) (main masterlist) (ao3)

You do talk soon. You talk a lot, actually, even after you’ve signed the documents Matt and Foggy hand-deliver, accompanied by more doughnuts. “Powdered sugar won’t buy you much, Nelson,” you joke, the words said around a bite of doughy goodness, “but it will buy you my affection.”

It pulls a smile out of Matt, and Foggy blushes bright red.

That’s the last time you saw Matt in the flesh, in truth. Most of your nights are spent on the phone with him, when he isn’t…occupied. Sometimes he’ll call after he’s gotten back from whatever ass-kicking he’s delivered — not that he tells you — always chalking up his gruff voice to a late night at the office or a few too many beers at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen.

You don’t mind, telling him he can call you whenever he wants and you’ll answer; your sleep schedule has dissolved into chaos since the Alleyway Incident, as you call it, and you like the sound of his voice just as much as he seems to like yours.

And there’s something different about those late night/early morning calls, something hidden in the rasp of his whispers, the way he says your name like a prayer, his easy praise and easier compliments. Matthew Murdock is a smooth talker, and thinking you were in trouble after that first night on the roof had been an understatement.

You were in deep. You are in deep.

The phone conversations aren’t as information-filled as you’d like, and there’s been more than one occasion where you’d nearly blurted out that you knew his secret. But really, how does one go about that? I know you’re the masked vigilante that roams Hell’s Kitchen and saved my life — can we make out now?

You know he wants to ask about your past — there’ve been a few close calls, questions you skirt around far too quickly, half-truths that roll off your tongue all too smoothly. Lines you’ve been saying for a long time. “Tony and Pepper got me out of a…bad situation, and I probably won’t ever go back to Nevada. It’s in the past, and it can stay there.”

“A bad situation can mean a lot of things,” he’d returned, and you could hear that slight change in his tone, that instantaneous slip from your friend/potential lover/gigantic crush to the lawyer version of Matt Murdock. “Trust me, I’ve seen my fair share.”

“I don’t doubt it, and I do trust you, Murdock. Probably more than I should. But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

He’d gone quiet for a second, before, “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to. But if I can help, if you need legal advice or representation or anything like that, then please, let me.”

You’d nearly burst into tears on the phone, quickly changing the subject and asking him to tell you about the first case that had made him feel like a real lawyer. It was distraction enough, but even after you hung up the phone, the offer sat heavy on your chest.

It would be so easy to spill your guts, to tell him everything, just lay it all bare. But then where would that leave you? What would he think of you then? Would he admit who he was if you told him what had really happened?

The questions linger in the back of your mind, so you keep your mouth shut, and it hasn’t come up since. Your secret, or his.

You’ve both managed to skirt around the rescheduling of your dinner date, as well, much to your dismay. Matt is busy, with both his day and night jobs if the papers reporting on the Man in the Mask are anything to go by, and you’ve been working your way back up to well, working, slowly but surely. Pepper had all but forced you to take a break, quite literally pushing you out of the office the first day you’d tried to go back. It had been too much, and you appreciated her looking out for you.

Your bruises have mostly healed, save for the cut on your lip that you’ve formed a bad habit of biting at, and thanks to a little science from Tony, the gifted rose is still intact, perfectly preserved and still as sweet as the morning you’d found it. You’ve also contemplated mentioning the flower to Matt, too, but haven’t yet.

When he calls you out of the blue on a Tuesday morning, however, you feel like something’s coming.

“What are the chances I could ask a favour of you?”

+

The favour turns out to be driving Matt, sans Foggy, upstate to see a client. It strikes you a little odd when only the Murdock side of Nelson and Murdock climbs into the white Jeep Tony has leant you for the excursion, and you say as much. “Foggy doesn’t know about this client,” he answers a little too quickly. “It’s…off the books, I guess.”

“Super secrets,” you reply, watching to make sure his seat belt is buckled before you pull away from the curb outside Matt’s office. “I’ll add it to the list.”

“Between the two of us, we could write a book filled with our super secrets,” he jokes, “but then, I guess it wouldn’t be much of a book, since they’re secrets.”

“Invisible ink!” you offer, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him grin. “Do people even actually use that stuff, or is it just in spy movies?”

“I’ve yet to encounter invisible ink,” he tells you, “but the moment I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Good.”

The conversation comes easily as you pull onto the freeway, having punched in the address Matt provided into the car’s GPS. It’s a chilly December day, snow lightly falling as you drive. You like driving, you’ve always liked driving, and you have to admit your heart picked up a little at the prospect of spending a few hours in a car with Matt Murdock.

You find a Starbucks with a drive-thru, waving off Matt’s offered cash and ordering the most Christmassy drinks you can. Matt makes a face when you hand him one, his expressive eyes hidden behind his glasses but the frown on his mouth telling you more than enough. “This smells more like sugar than coffee,” he grumbles.

“It probably is,” you agree, giggling and sipping at your drink, which happens to taste more like a sugar cookie than a latte, complete with sprinkles on top, “but I’m still shocked you’ve never had a peppermint mocha, so drink up.”

“Really, that shocks you?”

“Zip it, Murdock, and drink.”

He grins like the devil at you, but does as you ask, somehow managing to get whipped cream all along his upper lip in the process. You find yourself staring as his tongue darts out to lick it away, and he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb before sucking it clean.

Deep. You’re in deep.

Eyes on the road, you think to yourself, setting your drink down and putting both hands on the wheel. It’s unfair, how distracting he can be, just sitting there. And then he adjusts himself in his seat, planting his elbow on the console between you two, his arm pressed against your shoulder. He’s so warm.

After a few minutes, you catch him trying to slip the money you’d waved off in the drive-thru into your purse, and reach out to smack his hand away, pulling a quiet yelp out of him. “Put it away, Matthew,” you scold, pushing at his wrist. “I mean it.”

“Let me give you some money,” he protests, pushing back against your hand. “For the gas.”

“I don’t need your gas money!” you laugh, grabbing the bills from his hand and tossing them in his lap.”I mean it, Matt. It’s fine. What are friends for, right? And I don’t I already owe you and Foggy for the representation, technically?” He sighs, tipping his head back and stuffing the money back into his pocket. “You’re talking to the girl living rent-free at the Avengers Tower, working for Stark Industries, and my sister signs my paycheques. Trust me, I can afford the gas.”

“You’re bragging,” he says, rolling his head on his shoulders towards you, sly grin on his stupid handsome face, “just for the record.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

He waits a beat, the smile fading slightly. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

A vicious blush crawls up your face and you bite the inside of your lip, happy he can’t see it. “I wasn’t sure what to call it. Friends seemed like a good place to start.”

He purses his lips, leaning further sideways so his arm is pressed tighter to yours. “Well, then I’ll have to owe you a favour, friend.”

“Please,” you start, shaking your head, “you saved me from another day in the Tower, most likely shuttered in my room, pondering my existence. You know, the regular Tuesday schedule. So, no return favour required. Happy to do it.”

“And the pondering of your existence,” he asks, “does that have anything to do with what happened last month?”

You heave a breath, leaning forward to adjust your gaze as you turn right, following the GPS’s directions. “Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize,” you mumble, biting harder at the inside of your lip. “Didn’t know you were a lawyer and a shrink, Murdock.”

He says your name like a warning.

“Sorry, that was mean,” you say instantly, pushing a hand through your hair as you continue down the road. “It does and it doesn’t, but it’s fine. It happened, it’s over with, I’m alive and it could have been much worse. End of story.”

You’re not sure why, but the conversation feels like an opening, and for once, you leap at it.

“And I can add you to the growing list of people I owe my life to.”

The car falls so silent, Matt going so incredibly still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to say something, and when you chance a glance at him, you see his mouth slightly parted, his hands now folded in his lap like a child being scolded.

He says nothing, so you just keep talking.

“I know,” you say, “that it was you. That night in the alley. I don’t know how I figured it out, drunk as I was, but I saw your mouth under the streetlights, heard your voice, and bam, puzzle complete. It just clicked. And that, coupled with the way you kissed my forehead before you disappeared. I had a hunch,” you chance another glance, he hasn’t moved, “a very strong hunch. And then I saw you, the next night, when we were supposed to go to dinner, on the roof across from the Tower, and I knew I was right.”

Still nothing, no movement. You’re tempted to check for a pulse.

“I know it was you,” you continue,” and you don’t need to tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my secret to tell. But I know. And thank you.”

Finally, he speaks, sagging slightly in the seat, his arm like fire against yours. “You don’t have to thank me.” He shakes his head slightly. “I heard you scream and I just…” He pushes a hand through his hair, scratches at his jaw. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do,” you say, glancing between him and the road. “I do have to. And I will say, I admire the moral code, with the no killing thing. It’s refreshing.”

There’s the tiniest of twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Says the girl who’s friends with the Avengers.”

You grin. “I’m not friends with all of them,” you admit, “but the whole Hulk Smash thing doesn’t exactly fall in line, does it?”

“I suppose not,” he agrees, nodding once. “Neither does your friend Natasha. The assassin.”

“Nat is…complicated,” you say, biting back your grin. “And looking out for my best interests.”

“Ah,” he murmurs, “that explains the pretty red-head lurking in the building across from my office.”

“You saw her?” you ask, balking before realizing how silly the question is.

Matt chuckles. “Foggy did. Gave me a…detailed description. I assume that means you told her about me?”

You inhale, reaching for your drink. “Your name might have come up, once or twice.”

He laughs again, the sound music to your ears. It’s not exactly how you’d envisioned having the conversation, and you haven’t gained much more information than you already had. But he knows that you know, and for now, it’s enough.

You set you drink back in the cup holder, and your hand lingers over the gearshift. It takes less than a second for Matt to slide his hand beneath yours, fingers laced together, palm warm as anything.

+

The rest of the drive is quieter, the silence there but not awkward, your hand folded in Matt’s. He weaves his fingers through yours over and over, your knuckles knocking together, his thumb tracing shapes in your skin.

As the miles tick down on the GPS, you notice Matt’s demeanour change, his shoulders bunched up around his ears, his grip on your hand tightening.

He only tries to offer you money once more, saying he feels bad that you’re doing all the driving and he’s just sitting there.

“How about you buy me dinner when we get back to the city?” you offer, and while his shoulders don’t loosen, the corner of his mouth quirks.

“I guess that’s a fair trade.”

Finally, you make the last turn, passing through large metal gates and driving up a long, winding driveway that leads to a pretty house tucked amongst evergreen trees, a small lake not far off. There’s one car parked out front, a neatly tended garden blanketed with snow and a pathway leading to the house that’s clearly been freshly shovelled.

“Nice place,” you comment, pulling the Jeep into the space behind the parked car. Matt unbuckles his seat belt and you reach for yours. “Do you need a hand?”

“No, no,” he says with a shake of his head. “I know the way.”

“Matt, there could be ice, you could fa—”

Lightning quick, he reaches across the console and takes your face in both hands, his palms warm against your cheeks, fingers just brushing your hairline. Instantly, you’re back on the rooftop, back under his grip, his lips locking with yours. The kiss is different from the frantic, heated one on Halloween, but it sets you on fire all the same. He drags his mouth across yours slowly, intimately, kissing your bottom lip, then your top one, then the bottom again, teeth catching on the split in your lip. It sends a spark of pain across your mouth and you taste copper, but it only stokes the fire.

“Shit,” he whispers against your lips, pulling away. “You’re bleeding. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You quiet him with another kiss, your hands reaching for his wrists. “Don’t apologize.”

He groans into your mouth, yanking his mouth away from yours with a twist of his head, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of his breath on your face smelling of chocolate, peppermint, and coffee. “I should go inside. Don’t move, okay? Just stay,” a peck beneath your left eye, “right,” the bridge of your nose, “here.” Then your right eye. “I’ll be quick.”

“Okay.”

When you open your eyes, he’s gone, the car door shutting as you settle a little deeper into the driver’s seat. True to his word, he does know the way, his cane barely touching the ground as he makes his way to the door. You watch as he lifts his hand to knock, and a moment later, a woman dressed in Christmas-coloured scrubs answers, smiling at him and stepping to the side so he can enter.

The door closes and you busy yourself, flipping through radio stations before settling on a Christmas station playing all the oldies. Frank Sinatra croons his way through Baby, It’s Cold Outside, and you stare at your phone, replying to texts from Pepper and Nat and Caleb. The snow is coming quicker now than it had been in the city, and before you know it, an hour has passed and there’s nearly five inches of it sitting on the hood of the car, the previously shovelled pathway now hidden beneath the white.

Another half hour, another three inches on the ground, and you’re starting to worry that the trip back to the city won’t be easy. You check the weather reports, which all tell you the snow is not stopping anytime soon and to basically hole up where you can.

Tony answers on the first ring. “Hey, kid, how goes the unknown journey?”

“Fine,” you answer, peering through the windshield up at the grey sky above. “This weather is something else though.”

“Well, the Jeep is all-terrain,” he laughs, familiar beeping in the background, “but there’s always the cabin if you’re worried. You and Murdock could hole up for the night, drive back once the roads have been cleared.”

“Cabin?”

“I’ll send you the address,” he responds, “not far from where you are now.”

You sigh. “You’re tracking me?”

You can almost hear the nonchalant lift of his shoulder. “The car is hooked up to Jarvis’s network, kid. Just keeping an eye out, you know how it is.”

Another sigh. “I do. Thanks, Tony. See you tomorrow then.”

“See ya, kid,” he says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Hah, that narrows it down.”

He just laughs and the call disconnects.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opens, revealing a ruffled-looking Matt, and you’re out of the car, the hat and gloves you’d grabbed on your way out shielding you from the falling snow, brush in hand, wiping what you can from the car. “Hey, wait there!” you call, setting the brush on the hood and picking your way up the path to the door, grateful for your boots. “It snowed a lot while you were inside,” you say, reaching where Matt is standing and putting your hand on his arm, letting it slide down to his wrist. His breath is heavy, sending puffs of steam into the air between you. “Stay close to me.”

“Okay,” he whispers, and you don’t miss the way his voice breaks on the word. Your eyes narrow, raking across his face, and you can see the trail of wet along the side of his nose, the slight red gathered around his eyes beneath his glasses. For a minute, you think it’s just the reflection of the lenses against his skin, but as you approach the passenger’s side of the car, he slumps against you, hooking an arm around your neck. He murmurs out your name, voice breaking again, and you realize he’s crying.

“Hey,” you say, instantly trying to soothe him. The snow is still falling, flakes catching in his hair and settling on his shoulders. His hand settles around the back of your neck, pulling you against him, and you hook your hands under his arms, pressing your gloved palms against his shoulders. “Hey, hey, what happened?”

He puts his face in the curve of your neck, and you can feel the tears falling against your skin, sliding beneath the collar of your sweater. His breaths are shaky, and when you repeat the question, hugging him tight, he just shakes his head against your skin and mumbles, “Not here.”

“Okay,” you say, and pull back slowly, kissing his cheek as you go. His face is flushed and you brush the snow from his jacket, moving him backwards carefully so you can open the passenger door.

Once he’s settled, you close the door softly, your heart breaking a little in your chest as he pulls his glasses off and covers his face with one hand, a broken sob falling out of his mouth. You finish cleaning off the car the best you can, then toss the brush in the trunk and get back into the driver’s seat. He’s slumped forward, elbows on his knees, forehead pressed against the dashboard, shoulders shaking slightly. He flinches when you pull the door shut, and you start the car again, turning on the heated seats and tossing your hat and gloves into the backseat.

“That wasn’t a client,” you say quietly, “was it?”

He doesn’t move, but whispers out, “No.”

Your phone beeps then, a text from Tony appearing on the screen. It’s an address, coupled with the code to the front door. You put the address into the GPS, sighing with relief when you see it’s only half an hour from your current spot. “It’s still snowing,” you tell him, your voice still quiet, “and it’s not gonna stop. It’s dangerous, to drive back to the city now.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, leaning back in the seat, hands fisted on his knees. “I should have…I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” You lean across the console, putting your hand on his leg. Slowly, his hand unfurls and he covers your own with it, rubbing his palm across your knuckles. “You can’t control the weather, Murdock. It’s okay.” He seems to chase your voice a little, his head hanging forward, lips parted as his temple rests against your forehead. You stretch your neck until your lips graze his jaw. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Another shaky sob falls from his mouth and your other hand reaches up to rest against the back of his neck, thumb rubbing along his hairline. He inhales deeply. “That’s my line.”

You kiss his cheek this time, snaking your hand up the back of his head before leaning back in your seat and reaching for the wheel. “Tony sent me the address to his cabin. Said we can crash there till tomorrow, wait out the snow and head back when the roads are clear. And I’m sure there’s a cabinet full of liquor.”

“Thank god.”

You turn the car around and head back up the drive, pulling carefully onto the now snow-covered main road and following the GPS directions. Matt’s hand finds it’s way to your thigh and stays there the whole way to the cabin.

[galahadenough]

I finally put together a review of Loki (TV Series). I've always been a huge Marvel fan, a huge MCU fan, but this show was horrific to me. Especially since I saw the show through to the end, I wanted to write a review for the main reviewing websites. I want this side to be heard. All it took was an immense amount of rage to get me to write reviews!

I’m planning on posting it on imdb, Rotten Tomatoes, and google reviews. So far I’ve gotten errors and issues with RT and google, and I’m hoping it doesn’t get lost on imdb. Any other places to leave reviews?

It took me a while to write this. I had to calm down a lot to make it coherent. Then I had to figure out how to condense it. I felt like a review should be my main points, but it took a lot of editing to get it down this much. (Then I had to make an edited version because google has much smaller word limits).

Thanks a lot @iamnmbr3. Your blog was the first one I found on the topic and it was a huge help. The show felt off from the first episode, but I couldn’t figure out why. Your analysis on the show really helped me to verbalize what I was feeling.

Review (except shorter on google):

As a huge MCU fan, I found the show to be intolerable. The plot was slow with way too much filler for the length of the show, and much of the filler felt purposeless. They could have deleted entire scenes or plot points without changing much if any of the story. The creators deliberately made the aesthetic average and mundane, which didn’t pair well with the underwhelming plot. The show relied heavily on slapstick humor, almost all of which was directed at the title character in a manner that encouraged laughter at his pain and stupidity. It would have been better suited for a cartoon, but it would be a cruel cartoon.

The TVA was presented as the better of two evils despite it being a totalitarian organization utilizing genocide and torture, both physical and mental. It felt very reminiscent of the book 1984 with the Thought Police, but the TVA was never truly represented as evil. Not one character opposed them as a hero or from a moral standpoint. All opposition came from a personal or self-serving motive. I’m not wanting every character to be brilliantly moralistic. That would be boring. But you don’t set up an organization like the TVA and say that they are providing a good and needed service, which was the idea the series was based on and ended on.

Mobius has a personality that is very easy to like, but he is very much complicit with the TVA. He happily 'does his job' of genocide and torture. He is Loki's captor, but we are informed he is his friend. When he isn't actively using physical or mental manipulation and torture, he is deriding and mocking him. There was nothing to indicate that they were friends outside of being told that is true. Mobius was never used as a villain by the show despite him fitting the mold well, but he also never has a redemption arc that would have made him a good hero. His reason for working against the TVA is because they lied to him, not because there is any moral reason. His change in alliances happened without much buildup, no gradual discovery throughout the series.

Sylvie felt like a caricature of a character, with very little to her personality other than grit. I was very bored with her. She was a tough, strong, and perfect character that lacked any other depth or nuance. She was called “terrifying” for being female, which felt horrifyingly sexist. She was yet another source of derision and mocking towards Loki.

Loki, the character, was very poorly written. He has always had a great deal of emotional depth that makes him interesting. He was acted with a range from extreme subtlety to riveting explosions of emotion in previous movies. His past is filled with good and bad choices, made with good and bad intentions. He was the villain who tried to be a hero and the hero who tried to be a villain. They took all that away and made him a side character in his own show who had little to no effect on the plot.

For abilities, he lacked his usual physical fighting prowess. He did very little magic, seeming awed when others used magic. His personality and mannerisms changed drastically. His gestures and expressions in this show were over the top and felt clownish, especially for a character that is known for his subtlety. He felt hyperactive and painfully eager to please everyone. His character is known for his manipulations, but his method of 'manipulation' here is to inform others that he is 'ten steps ahead' of them and is going to trick them. I don’t think that’s a good method of manipulation? Plus, the only effect he had on the plot was to slow down the other characters through his bumbling failures.

In addition, Loki was almost always the target of cruelty. This entire show felt like it was made to mock this character. They used every opportunity to tell us, and Loki, how terrible Loki is. How he is irredeemable and incapable of change. That he is a narcissist, which is inaccurate, and that any Loki is inherently untrustworthy. From birth, I suppose. Physical attacks, such as the slow-motion punch and the time loop where he was repeatedly kicked in the crotch, made me cringe. This show encouraged the enjoyment of cruelty.

As a last point, the show used the idea of representation to draw in viewers while avoiding having actual representation. The show was lauded as being good for bisexual and genderfluid representation. From what I’ve heard, the genderfluid representation was a mark on Loki’s paperwork, which you would need to pause at just the right moment to see. Plus, that makes the “terror” at a female Loki make even less sense. The bisexual representation was shown through a single word, and the character was only shown to be so when they made an entire show to mock and belittle him. That is not good representation.

I was very excited for this show, as well as for the next phase of the MCU. This has left me very disappointed and disheartened. I may not be entirely finished with the MCU, but this is the first part of the series that has killed my excitement for future releases. I get a sinking feeling when I hear about future projects now. I have enjoyed debating creative choices before, but this is not simply creative choices. It is too much cruelty, combined with poor writing and a lack of continuity.