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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

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@kneeltoyourking
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@zzapzzaptasers cont. from x
The thing about grief isn't wholly about what was lost in the past, but what continues on even in the absence. Darcy has had two apartments since Loki died, and he'd never set foot in either one. By the second move, she doesn't find his long hairs anymore, and her pillows no longer smell of mint and magic. She'd had so many haircuts, her own hair on her head had never been touched by him. She has a job he'd never know about, earned with a PhD when he'd never even seen her get her bachelors (finally). Outside of a few old t-shirts, he'd never seen most of her clothes in her closet. She's changed her shampoo and her soap and the brand of her laundry detergent. She drinks matcha lattes now, instead of endless cups of coffee so weak it might as well have been called bean water and which he had sneered at. Darcy doesn't paint her nails in sapphire blues or emerald greens anymore. She doesn't paint them at all, really. And these are the ways he slips from her life, while reminding her, all the while, that he is gone. Dust in space, sprinkled amongst some unknown stars that seem as far away to her as anything else, and this is how she lives for eight years. Existing in the gaps of before and after. At first, Darcy thinks she must be imagining it. She dreams of him often; sometimes he is just back, and they continue on as they had. Sometimes, there's confrontation -- why did you leave me? But, mostly, it's as if she's searching for him through time and space, and he's avoiding her. She catches glimpses of him, and spends restless hours pursuing a flash of black hair and pale skin, only to wake up more exhausted than she had been when she started. This isn't like that. Like a tickle of breath, it leaves Darcy shivering and shuddering. "Who are you? Because he's dead."
Finality. That is what death is intended to be. An end. A precipice from which one falls that cannot be scaled again.
He had skirted its edge so often that the horror of the fall had dulled to almost nothing. An inevitable fate he danced around time and again, surviving stubbornly like the infamous Midgardian cockroach.
Perhaps his luck had finally run out.
Unraveled, his mind fraying at the seams, scattering across realities that were not meant for him. The Other had done a thorough job, trying to break his mind, and where Loki had thought himself successful in preventing it before, he now had his doubts. The world kept warping, shimmering into a distorted mirror like some fever dream where everything was somehow almost right, and still sickeningly wrong.
He did not know this woman. Did not recognize the scent of her shampoo, nor the warmth of her touch. He did not fit into her life like some missing piece. He knew nothing of her habits, her tastes, her grief.
And yet, he did.
Foreign memories invaded his mind like a virus, replicating and crushing his consciousness with no regard for what came before. They were his memories, but they were not.
When she spoke, the haze cleared. Through an ethereal veil, some strange barrier that kept them separate, he saw her. They stood side by side, facing opposite directions as if in passing.
Fighting the urge to let out a chuckle, his head aching from a pain inside he couldn't attribute to a simple headache, he let his hands wander upward. They ghosted around his own chest, making a show of searching for an injury before pointedly finding his own pulse.
"I am Loki of Asgard," he murmured, raising his chin as he looked at her. "And I am very much alive."
"Isn't it a bit discourteous to ignore my question only to ask your own? I shall repeat it in case your hearing has been dulled by that awful music you listen to.
"Who. Are. You?"
LOKI - TV SERIES / SEASON 2 | DELETED SCENE | BLU RAY DISK (2024)
Over two seasons on the Marvel Studios series “Loki,” Tom Hiddleston‘s god of mischief learns to forsake his past as Marvel villain and become the hero we all knew he could be. But his past transgressions are never far from his memory.
In a deleted scene from Season 2 of the show — part of an impending 4K UHD Blu-ray release — Loki recalls just how many people “said I was a problem” while talking with his friend Mobius (Owen Wilson) over slices of key lime pie.
Loki names Thor’s compatriots on Asgard — Volstagg (Ray Stevenson), Hogan (Tadanobu Asano) and Fandral (Josh Dallas and Zachary Levi) — as well as Laufey (Colm Feore), king of the Frost Giants and Loki’s biological father, and Bor (Tony Curran), father of Odin and Loki’s adoptive grandfather. And he names Heimdall twice because, Loki says, “Heimdall was a big one!”
From Earth, Loki lists Thor’s girlfriend Jane Foster (Natalie Portman), her scientific colleague Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgard) and her intern Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings). He also names S.H.I.E.L.D. director Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) and agent Maria Hill (Cobie Smulders) — as well as Donald Blake, “who Thor pretends to be when he goes to Earth.”
Among these names, Loki also brings up two characters from Marvel comics that audiences have not yet encountered in the MCU. The first is Amora, also known as Enchantress, a magical Asgardian and one of Thor’s enemies. The second is another villain, Absorbing Man, who began life as a boxer named Carl Creel — until Loki poisons him with a elixir that gives him the ability to transform his body into the quality of anything he touches.
At the very end, Loki brings up Hercules, the Greek demigod who has appeared in Marvel comics since 1965. The character made his MCU debut in the post-credits scene in 2022’s “Thor: Love and Thunder,” as played by “Ted Lasso” star Brett Goldstein. In that scene, Hercules’ father, Zeus (Russell Crowe), commands his son to bring down Thor (after Thor impaled Zeus with his own lightning bolt). Marvel Studios hasn’t announced when — or if — Hercules could return to the MCU, but according to Loki, this wasn’t the first time Hercules had tussled with Odin’s family.
“Hercules — another big guy,” Loki tells Mobius. “I was a big problem for him.”
Video by: Variety
@kneeltoyourking
ᝰ🚬 𝚉𝙰𝙲𝙷𝚁𝙿 .ᐟ SYMBOL ANIMAL-BASED HEADCANON QUESTIONS. CHANGE ANY PRONOUNS IF NECESSARY. SOME MATURE THEMES MAY BE PRESENT.
( 🐺 ) : does your muse lead, follow, or leave when things get difficult?
( 🦚 ) : how does your muse stand out? how does that make them vulnerable?
( 🦩 ) : what reward keeps your muse going when nothing else does?
( 🐻 ) : what pushes your muse from gentleness into something dangerous?
( 🦏 ) : what makes your muse charge headfirst without thinking?
( 🦞 ) : what does your muse hold onto long after it's gone?
( 🦉 ) : what does your muse notice that others consistently miss?
( 🐐 ) : what has your muse achieved just to prove they could?
( 🐆 ) : how does your muse react when they get what they've wanted?
( 🐎 ) : what makes your muse feel free? who has tried to take that from them?
( 🦜 ) : whose words echo in your muse's head when they're alone?
( 🐞 ) : how does your muse cope with being overlooked or underestimated?
( 🐝 ) : does your muse know their role, or do they resent being needed?
( 🐃 ) : what burden does your muse carry without complaint?
( 🦋 ) : what moment changed your muse so completely they can't go back?
( 🐖 ) : what comforts does your muse cling to when the world gets ugly?
( 🦊 ) : how often does your muse lie? do they believe those lies themselves?
( 🐌 ) : what emotional process takes your muse the longest to work through?
( 🦅 ) : is it easy for your muse see the bigger picture?
( 🐀 ) : how does your muse survive situations they were not meant to?
( 🐬 ) : how does your muse find joy in dangerous or unstable environments?
( 🐅 ) : when your muse wants something, how subtle are they about it?
( 🐈⬛ ) : how does superstition or reputation shape how others treat your muse?
( 🐍 ) : how often does your muse get away with things they shouldn't?
( 🐘 ) : what memories does your muse carry that shape decisions they make?
( 🦧 ) : how does your muse show care through action rather than words?
( 🐜 ) : how does your muse handle work that feels endless or thankless?
( 🐢 ) : what does your muse take their time with, even when rushed?
( 🦂 ) : what boundary, once crossed, changes your muse forever?
( 🐈 ) : how does your muse ask for affection without directly asking for it?
( 🐊 ) : how patient is your muse when waiting for the right moment to act?
( 🦌 ) : what spooks your muse easily, even if they won't admit it?
( 🦢 ) : what does your muse hide beneath a graceful exterior?
( 🦥 ) : what does your muse refuse to rush, no matter the consequences?
( 🐁 ) : how does your muse make themselves smaller to avoid harm?
( 🐟 ) : does your muse go with the current, or fight it until exhausted?
( 🦍 ) : does your muse feel safer alone, or among others like them?
( 🐇 ) : does your muse run from conflict, or freeze and hope it passes?
( 🦈 ) : how comfortable is your muse with being misunderstood or feared?
( 🐦🔥 ) : how does your muse reinvent themselves after being destroyed?
( 🦘 ) : does your muse stop moving when they're hurt? do they push harder?
( 🐓 ) : how does your muse announce themselves in a room?
( 🐕 ) : who or what does your muse remain loyal to, even when it hurts them?
( 🐄 ) : what kind of peace does your muse crave, and why can't they have it?
( 🦖 ) : what part of your muse feels out of time or obsolete?
( 🐕🦺 ) : who does your muse feel responsible for protecting?
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here.”
"Why I'm here? Simply because I wish to be.
There is no need for it to be anything more than that.
...
Why are you here?"
kneeltoyourking Crossed Your Path
"Hey, the name's Black Cat."
Whatever grand introductory spiel he had been about to spout off fizzled into puzzlement, apparent on his face. “Black Cat? You expect me to believe that is a name?”
"It's what I'm called. You'd know the name if you were from here."
Felicia looked over his outfit. "There a convention going on or something?"
"Is this how you treat your visitors then? Hardly an appropriate welcoming committee, if you ask me."
He matches her analysis of his appearance with his own, a head to toe sweep, then back up.
"This is exactly why this realm is the least desirable as a vacation destination. Maybe if there were less of you...it might be tolerable."
First Impressions sentence starters
“You’re not… how I thought you’d be.”
“Is this what you’re really like, or was that an act?”
“I need to know this is for real. If you’re not genuine, tell me right now.”
“You’re… good at that.”
“I didn’t realize you were - maybe we should start again. I’m [name].”
“So this is what the (in)famous [Name] is like behind closed doors.”
“You have a lot of experience with this.”
“Do you know what people say about you?”
“You’re just like they said.”
“Why don’t you correct them? When people talk about you, and they’re wrong?”
“I thought they were exaggerating about you.”
“I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”
“Am I safe with you?”
“Do you mean that?”
“I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here.”
“What made you get into this/that line of work?”
“Look, you’re either going to help, or you aren’t. Which one is it going to be?”
“You … you chose me.”
“I… no, nothing. I just didn’t realize you were brave.”
“You’re going to get yourself killed/fired, you know.”
“Have you always been like that?”
“That was kind.”
“That was good of you.”
“That was stupid.”
“You didn’t have to do that. But you did.”
“You were there. You didn’t have to be.”
“I think .. I have you to thank, for this.”
“I wouldn’t be here without you.”
“I wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for you.”
"family function"...? i didn't know it could do that
Thor: Ragnarok (2017)
kneeltoyourking Crossed Your Path
"Hey, the name's Black Cat."
Whatever grand introductory spiel he had been about to spout off fizzled into puzzlement, apparent on his face. “Black Cat? You expect me to believe that is a name?”
" What are you the god of again?"
"It is exhausting, isn't it? Endless attempts to force order to contain something made of chaos.
What am I the god of today?
Lies?
Tricks?
Misguided ambitions?
How about monsters?
Most of them are nonsensical titles, hardly founded in any measurable truth. They are but stories crafted by mortals who could hardly find answers for the things they lacked the wisdom to understand...
The answer you seek, however, is mischief."
If you ever saw me naked, you’re welcome.
Kneel’s Current Bloglist (links bolded):
Loki || kneeltoyourking || active
Charlie Moore (MCU OC) || shieldarchitect || active
Brynja (MCU/Myth valkryie OC) || asgardianherald || active
if I’m gonna dabble in my MCU bs let’s drag em all out. I still think I need to rename my first oc since I stole her name lmao. Would be a little weird I think. anyways. here’s my shit.
Odin: what time is it?
Loki: I don't know, pass me that saxophone and we'll find out.
Loki: *plays saxophone loudly and extremely out of tune*
Thor: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAX AT 2 IN THE MORNING?!
Loki, turning to Odin: It's two a.m.
kneeltoyourking:
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i tried to make a serious promo but this happened
idk how to write promos anymore. verse flexible. timeline flexible. indie loki rp. pretty chill writing style. everything goes? please love me.
est. 2012 ; hated by penned by charlie
This is so old but pretty relevant so like…
don’t mind me reblogging old shit I wrote
(post-thor 2 plotline stuffs i guess) for the kiss meme
He is the shadow on the wall, stalking her as she moves through the halls, following her in silence into her room. He is the tingle, the chill that creeps up her spine, leaving in its wake a trail of goosebumps. He is the whisper, the voice she hears in the night, talking to her, nudging her to do things, to say things. He is the devil on her shoulder whispering little thoughts and ideas, poisoning her mind with his presence. He is the ghost that haunts her ever since Thor told her of his fate, the finality of his actions.
She thinks she can feel him sometimes, when he reaches out in the dark to her, fingers light across his skin, ice cold and pale. A gossamer touch here and there, like spiderwebs dragging across her skin.
For a while she is not sure if he’s really there - a real spirit, wandering around with no place to rest – or if he is simply a figment of her imagination – a piece of something she wishes were real.
After a while it doesn’t matter.
They have conversations, hushed and whispered so no one can hear her. They have fights, and sometimes Jane asks after her health – she hears Darcy’s muffled shouting from her room – shouting at seemingly nothing, and grows ever concerned for her friend. They have sweet moments, murmured sentiments when he finds her alone, things both of them savor and replay in their minds at night [though he’d never admit to it.]
His death seems so permanent, even with this shade of him lurking around and after one of their arguments, after both of them are hoarse from the shouting and he’s long since vanished in wisps of smoke, she finds herself alone with her thoughts. It is those times when he sneaks back, silent and eerie, stepping out from shadows on the far side of the room, watching her with concern, sincere apologetic expression painting his face with internal agony from having caused her such distress.
He moves slowly, carefully across the room, as if stepping on glass, and kneels down on the ground beside the bed where she threw herself after their spat. Frigid fingers brush her hair back and she finds herself questioning if he is real or if she is just slowly going mad – but when his lips brush against hers, icy cold and pale as death, she feels the solidity, the firmness, the realness behind it, and her eyes widen. He’s gone, typical trickster, vanishing in wisps of smoke as usual, but there is a lingering smell she recognized, the faint scent of mint and magic, and she knows.