and tender is the night

My name is Scott. You might have heard of me — but probably not. I'm a writer by trade, a bard by nature, and an eccentric lover of the world. Some people say I have a silver tongue; I like to think I'm just extraordinarily fond of wordsmithing. I'm a man who embraces the scent of cheap tobacco smoke with the same affection I hold for the taste of fine champagne and the burn of good bourbon. I've savored the pleasures and the pains of this earth in equal turns. I am given to fits of mad joy and dreams of sweet sorrow and great harrowing tempers. I relish the beauty and the savagery of this life, and wish for a little of it all. And I've got all the time in the world to enjoy it.

[musing-bibliophage-deactivated2]

The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.”

Rumi, The Illuminated Rumi (via musing-bibliophage)

[gapzilla]

[blamethefashion]

[dstvsstuff-deactivated20210120]

[millennial-user]

Tom Hiddleston’s sex faces in Thor.

[yellowoods]

[kingleepace]

“Loki, of course, can’t resist the idea of picking up the hammer.” -From the Director’s Commentary

[turpiel-deactivated20140820]

[hard-on-for-hiddleston]

[immortalnovelist]

Surprise Celebration || (Scott & Loki)

[talentedtricksterloki]

Loki had questions, inquiries which burned within him, but it was barely an effort to brush them aside—place them on the back burner until the initial shock had waned appropriately. And if he was still stunned three days from that moment, so be it; Loki would not ponder Scott’s presence nor would he pry on how, exactly, he’d managed to reach the Realm Eternal.

He met every touch with unhinged delight not unlike a drug addict who had, at long last, been given a fix. The caress over the arch of his cheekbone, the way the writer’s breath skipped over his lips and face with each and every expiration, and even the brushing of the roses against his chin. ”Had I been given the option, I would have come to Midgard and celebrated with you already—thrice,” The god’s expression was wolfish for a flash-in-the-pan moment. “But Scott,” He has to resist the urge to wince; resist the urge to concern himself with his beloved’s eventual departure. “Excuses are never necessary. I prefer you to all others,” Loki’s forehead met Scott’s and rested there. “You know this.”

[immortalnovelist]

"Thrice, undoubtedly," Scott murmured back, lowly, his own expression less wolfish so much as it was easily invitational. "Against the door, and the wall between the foyer and the living room and again, before we could get properly to the bedroom. Perhaps the couch. Or the hall." He toyed with the notion in a tone he might have otherwise used to describe a particularly picturesque summer day, but there's an impish glimmer in his gaze that vanishes under the sweep of his lashes a moment later. 

"In any case," he continued, softer now, his forehead resting against Loki's and their noses brushing, "I think you know that I too much prefer you over anyone or any thing. Perhaps that is why I keep a carefully tended stock of excuses. Just in case." Scott's smile flashed, brief, unchagrinned and coy, and this time he brushed the roses against Loki's cheek and his own in a petal-soft caress. "Perhaps I am not quite as raucous as the traditional feast I am told Asgard serves up in honor of its princes, but—" He broke off, the impish glitter suddenly back in his gaze as he met Loki's eyes with his from so near, the effect mildly and exhilaratingly dizzying.

"—but I would wager that at the very least I am more to your taste."

[viridi-luscus-monstrum-deactiva]

[vogue-ciity]

[hard-on-for-hiddleston]

[eternally-euphoric]

[hyperccaine]

[miranda-adriana]

[jungleoffireflies-deactivated20]