When Loki discovers Jane Thor’s identity

Loki: Verity. Verity I need to use your phone. This is of vital importance

Verity: I’m getting some minor bullshit signals here 

Loki: Ignore them. I need your phone

Verity: Why??

Loki: Because Odinson knows my number now gimme

-one phone call later-

Odinson: Hello?

Loki: So what was it like to go fuck yourself

"Sous Ta Caresse" - LokixReader

Prompt :: Inspired by Complainte De La Butte by Rufus Wainwright.  When the world seems against him, a prince seeks solace by looking down on the lower lives of Asgard.  However, he finds a rare light that burns cracks in his icy core.

Features :: Semi-Peaceful AU, Asgardian reader, female reader, Frigga is the best mom, Loki is a sweetie and no one can tell me otherwise

Warnings :: N/A

Word Count :: 4451

Additional Notes :: Translation: Under Your Caress. This is a fic I’ve been working on for a while, and finally finished!  I’m still working on endings and getting back into regularly writing, but I’m getting there.  Sorry if it’s wonky.

Originally posted by killerqueen-with-a-lazerbeam

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300 words a day again, yay! this time i made it fluffy, and it stayed fluffy, dammit

“He what?” Thor exclaimed, earning himself a very stern look from the librarian. He ducked his head, flashing her an apologetic smile before rounding back onto Hogun and continuing in furious whisper. “He really thinks that?”

Hogun shrugged. “That’s what he said.”

Thor couldn’t believe it. Five days ago, he had finally, finally, found the courage to ask Loki from drawing class out and had been, promptly and coldly, rejected. So that stung. He really thought they were getting along. And that Loki was gay. Or bi.

But he was trying to deal with it, until Hogun, in the brief way of his, announced to Thor that Loki was deeply convinced that Thor was only playing a prank on him.

After a few minutes of Thor’s silent fuming, Hogun offered this piece of insight: “You’re on the football team.”

“I’m also in his drawing class,” Thor grumbled. “And I write short stories for all those competitions.”

“And he really likes beating you in them.”

Privately, Thor thought that was all the more reason to date him. Right? Or was he missing something?

Part of him wanted nothing more than to march straight up to Loki and make him understand that his offer was genuine.

Except… “And did he say if- I mean would he otherwise…”

“Didn’t say.”

Of course not. Knowing Loki, he probably said exactly as much to Hogun as he wanted Thor to know. The thought almost made him smile.

“I’ll just have to convince him,” he said with confidence.

“Oh yeah?”

Thor froze and then slowly turned in his chair. Loki was leaning against a bookshelf, arms crossed.

Hogun snapped his book shut.

“I mean,” Thor huffed, amusement and embarrassment fighting inside of him. “It’s true. It wasn’t a prank. I was serious. Am serious, still.”

Hogun’s chair scraped against the linoleum loudly as he got up to leave.

Loki took his place, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“I’m listening.”

anonymous asked:

Lokane prompt: Underwater

Wowza sorry for the delay. Here is this little one. Enjoy! Also,apologies for the grammar, it’s almost 3am here and my eyes are staring to twitch.

Fathoms Below

The human brain can last up to six minutes without oxygen. However, even after one minute, brain cells can begin to die. At three minutes, the likelihood of serious brain damage increases. At 6 minutes, there is pretty much no return.

Jane Foster was thankful she forgot all of that important information the moment she dove head first into the dark waters.

All in all, it was a pretty shit day.

Thirty minutes prior, she along with Thor, Loki, and Banner were escaping the game arena. The plan was simple: get out without causing a scene. Of course, this was said before Thor and Doctor Banner decided to have a reunion match which crumbled much of the colosseum. Loki had explained there was a hidden cave beneath the northern walls. Once their boat reached the gate, they had to swim beneath the surface to reach it other side.

He failed to consider the fast warriors sent after them as well as the possibility of foes beneath the surface.

Now, as Jane dove deeper into the inky waters to avoid arrows whizzing by her ears, she really wanted to punch Loki again. Preferably a knock out. This time, Darcy would record it so Jane could relive the feeling over and over again.

Jane’s revenge fantasy on the God of Mischief was cut short the moment she felt something wrap around her ankle.

Adrenaline was already coursing throw her veins but a newfound fear of dying poisoned her lungs.

The appendage on her ankle yanked her body away from their surface, hanging onto her like a dead weight. Like quick sand, the harder she tried the escape, the faster she sunk.

After several seconds of struggle, Jane finally relaxed, as a prey would knowing it was already dying under the teeth of a predator. After all, Jane was a scientist, and even in dying she realized her odds.

She closed her eyes only for a moment before she felt a death grip on her right hand. Her head snapped straight by the momentum of not sinking anymore.

Jane still couldn’t see, but a flash of light hit her ankle and the feeling of her slimy friend immediately vanished. Her new friend gripping her hand pushed upward to the surface faster than humanly possible. Jane, oxygen deprived as she was, was more than happy to comply with this new trajectory.

As Jane’s face broke the surface, she realized she should have called Darcy back before she went off world. Near death experiences were not her forte. She breathed deeply, forcing her brain cells to kick back on.

“For a human,” a voice breathing deeply next to her said, “you seem to be lacking proper knowledge of oxygen deprivation.”

Jane, still heaving in air, was less than thrilled to respond to her rescuer. “For a narcissist….asshole….you don’t know….how to plan an….escape.”

She could practically hear his frown. “And you don’t know how to properly thank someone who saved your life.”

Jane’s vision finally cleared as she looked at her so called savior.

Loki was staring as her, his wet hair falling in pieces all over his face. A fresh cut from the earlier battle marked his left eyebrow. His horns were no where to be seen.

Jane narrowed her eyes. “Sorry but not really in the position to bow at the moment.”

Loki’s teeth flashed even in dim lighting. “Oh don’t worry,” Loki said as he began to swim away, “you may kneel before me once we reach the beach.”

As they both began to swam towards the rest of their escape party on shore, Jane began to wonder why the God of Mischief decided to protect and save her for a second time since knowing him.

Rick Riordan won a Stonewall award today

for his second Magnus Chase book, due to the inclusion of the character Alex Fierro who is gender fluid. This was the speech he gave, and it really distills why I love this author and his works so much, and why I will always recommend his works to anyone and everyone.

“Thank you for inviting me here today. As I told the Stonewall Award Committee, this is an honor both humbling and unexpected.

So, what is an old cis straight white male doing up here? Where did I get the nerve to write Alex Fierro, a transgender, gender fluid child of Loki in The Hammer of Thor, and why should I get cookies for that?

These are all fair and valid questions, which I have been asking myself a lot.

I think, to support young LGBTQ readers, the most important thing publishing can do is to publish and promote more stories by LGBTQ authors, authentic experiences by authentic voices. We have to keep pushing for this. The Stonewall committee’s work is a critical part of that effort. I can only accept the Stonewall Award in the sense that I accept a call to action – firstly, to do more myself to read and promote books by LGBTQ authors.

But also, it’s a call to do better in my own writing. As one of my genderqueer readers told me recently, “Hey, thanks for Alex. You didn’t do a terrible job!” I thought: Yes! Not doing a terrible job was my goal!

As important as it is to offer authentic voices and empower authors and role models from within LGBTQ community, it’s is also important that LGBTQ kids see themselves reflected and valued in the larger world of mass media, including my books. I know this because my non-heteronormative readers tell me so. They actively lobby to see characters like themselves in my books. They like the universe I’ve created. They want to be part of it. They deserve that opportunity. It’s important that I, as a mainstream author, say, “I see you. You matter. Your life experience may not be like mine, but it is no less valid and no less real. I will do whatever I can to understand and accurately include you in my stories, in my world. I will not erase you.”

People all over the political spectrum often ask me, “Why can’t you just stay silent on these issues? Just don’t include LGBTQ material and everybody will be happy.” This assumes that silence is the natural neutral position. But silence is not neutral. It’s an active choice. Silence is great when you are listening. Silence is not so great when you are using it to ignore or exclude.

But that’s all macro, ‘big picture’ stuff. Yes, I think the principles are important. Yes, in the abstract, I feel an obligation to write the world as I see it: beautiful because of its variations. Where I can’t draw on personal experience, I listen, I read a lot – in particular I want to credit Beyond Magenta and Gender Outlaws for helping me understand more about the perspective of my character Alex Fierro – and I trust that much of the human experience is universal. You can’t go too far wrong if you use empathy as your lens. But the reason I wrote Alex Fierro, or Nico di Angelo, or any of my characters, is much more personal.

I was a teacher for many years, in public and private school, California and Texas. During those years, I taught all kinds of kids. I want them all to know that I see them. They matter. I write characters to honor my students, and to make up for what I wished I could have done for them in the classroom.

I think about my former student Adrian (a pseudonym), back in the 90s in San Francisco. Adrian used the pronouns he and him, so I will call him that, but I suspect Adrian might have had more freedom and more options as to how he self-identified in school were he growing up today. His peers, his teachers, his family all understood that Adrian was female, despite his birth designation. Since kindergarten, he had self-selected to be among the girls – socially, athletically, academically. He was one of our girls. And although he got support and acceptance at the school, I don’t know that I helped him as much as I could, or that I tried to understand his needs and his journey. At that time in my life, I didn’t have the experience, the vocabulary, or frankly the emotional capacity to have that conversation. When we broke into social skills groups, for instance, boys apart from girls, he came into my group with the boys, I think because he felt it was required, but I feel like I missed the opportunity to sit with him and ask him what he wanted. And to assure him it was okay, whichever choice he made. I learned more from Adrian than I taught him. Twenty years later, Alex Fierro is for Adrian.

I think about Jane (pseudonym), another one of my students who was a straight cis-female with two fantastic moms. Again, for LGBTQ families, San Francisco was a pretty good place to live in the 90s, but as we know, prejudice has no geographical border. You cannot build a wall high enough to keep it out. I know Jane got flack about her family. I did what I could to support her, but I don’t think I did enough. I remember the day Jane’s drama class was happening in my classroom. The teacher was new – our first African American male teacher, which we were all really excited about – and this was only his third week. I was sitting at my desk, grading papers, while the teacher did a free association exercise. One of his examples was ‘fruit – gay.’ I think he did it because he thought it would be funny to middle schoolers. After the class, I asked to see the teacher one on one. I asked him to be aware of what he was saying and how that might be hurtful. I know. Me, a white guy, lecturing this Black teacher about hurtful words. He got defensive and quit, because he said he could not promise to not use that language again. At the time, I felt like I needed to do something, to stand up especially for Jane and her family. But did I make things better handling it as I did? I think I missed an opportunity to open a dialogue about how different people experience hurtful labels. Emmie and Josephine and their daughter Georgina, the family I introduce in The Dark Prophecy, are for Jane.

I think about Amy, and Mark, and Nicholas … All former students who have come out as gay since I taught them in middle school. All have gone on to have successful careers and happy families. When I taught them, I knew they were different. Their struggles were greater, their perspectives more divergent than some of my other students. I tried to provide a safe space for them, to model respect, but in retrospect I don’t think I supported them as well as I could have, or reached out as much as they might have needed. I was too busy preparing lessons on Shakespeare or adjectives, and not focusing enough on my students’ emotional health. Adjectives were a lot easier for me to reconcile than feelings. Would they have felt comfortable coming out earlier than college or high school if they had found more support in middle school? Would they have wanted to? I don’t know. But I don’t think they felt it was a safe option, which leaves me thinking that I did not do enough for them at that critical middle school time. I do not want any kid to feel alone, invisible, misunderstood. Nico di Angelo is for Amy, and Mark and Nicholas.

I am trying to do more. Percy Jackson started as a way to empower kids, in particular my son, who had learning differences. As my platform grew, I felt obliged to use it to empower all kids who are struggling through middle school for whatever reason. I don’t always do enough. I don’t always get it right. Good intentions are wonderful things, but at the end of a manuscript, the text has to stand on its own. What I meant ceases to matter. Kids just see what I wrote. But I have to keep trying. My kids are counting on me.

So thank you, above all, to my former students who taught me. Alex Fierro is for you.

To you, I pledge myself to do better – to apologize when I screw up, to learn from my mistakes, to be there for LGBTQ youth and make sure they know that in my books, they are included. They matter. I am going to stop talking now, but I promise you I won’t stop listening.”

Imagine: being able to lift Mjolnir and surprising both princes

[ this is one of my older imagine ideas, sorry if it’s wonky! ]

You yawned loudly as you trudged into the sitting room, then greeted by a handful of the tower residents.  Loki sent you a curious glance, momentarily wondering why you were tired at… noon.  He sat in a lone chair, and closed his Asgardian book.

“Lady [Y/N], good day!  You slept past the morn, I see.” Thor proclaimed from the couch, while you dropped yourself beside him.  Natasha watched you from the other side of the room, while Tony was discussing something with FRIDAY at a holographic display.  You kicked your legs up onto the coffee table, placing your feet beside Mjolnir.

“Long night… Remind me not to agree to watch the night crime again.” You grumbled, before sinking into the cushions.  Thor chuckled loudly, and you cringed, before turning away from him.  Loki made some snarky remark about your sleeping habits, but you were not in the mood.  “Shove it, silver-tongue.” You huffed, while curling up your legs slightly.  You felt your feet bump something and heard it hit the floor, but didn’t put much thought towards it, until dead silence claimed the room.

Your eyes burst open and you rapidly sat up, realizing Mjolnir wasn’t on the table.  Your eyes widened as they landed on the toppled hammer, sitting on the floor, before you glanced at Thor.  His mouth was agape in shock, looking between you and his hammer.  All eyes were on you now, but a velvet chuckle drew your attention.

“My, what a treat… The Midgardian night watch is worthy.  Odin must not have put much thought into the perimeters for worthiness.” He remarked, pulling half-hearted glares from you and Thor.  However, you could tell by his tense posture and expression that he hadn’t expected it either, and likely didn’t look forward to another hero being able to drop the damn hammer on his chest.  You huffed softly, before shifting your shoulders.

“I’m sure it’s just a fluke, like the elevator thing…” You started, reaching for the hammer to prove your point.  However, when you easily lifted it, you heard Thor let out a strangled breath.  Godly eyes were trained to your hand, one wondering what this meant for his future throne, and the other wondering if this meant the other Avengers would try to convince you to smack him.

“This is… ah- well…” Thor mumbled, trying to think of what made you worthy.  You were a hero of the people, and you had been good to himself and his brother, but surely there was something else… Shifting his curious and suspicious eyes to your stunned face, he let his thoughts swirl.

“…Good fucking lord…” You mumbled, turning the hammer in your hand.  Loki furrowed his brows momentarily, before moving to sit beside you, trapping you between his own body and Thor.  He reached for the hilt of the hammer, and when Thor realized what Loki was trying, he shot out one hand to intercept.  Both of their hands met yours on the hammer, and a shock of energy sparked through your body.  You yelped in surprise, but somehow, didn’t feel pain from the shock.  The princes drew back, unfamiliar with what was happening.

“M-Maybe I should have stayed in bed today…”


“He’s the type of man who would treat you like a queen.”

Imagine you across the aisle and you’re talking to you bff or stranger about your very recent breakup with your boyfriend and Tom listening in on your conversation.

Image not mine. Credit to instagram user: twhamerica

What do you call a fanfiction that you wrote with people hella close to you?

A famfiction

In 10 years,
  • My daughter/son : Mum,what did you do when you were a teenager? I bet you did cool things and that you were popular in high school.
  • Me: *has flashbacks on all the nights I had spent on Tumblr, all the fandoms,having weird fangirls as friends, all the times ive shipped gay pairings and all the times I pretended to be in a relationship with a fictional character,some band member,or a youtuber*
  • Me: yeah, i was pretty cool
  • Me: ..
  • Me: No actually, there's this thing-