THE SILVERTONGUE

previously osaelligr / pst / crossover friendly mature themes, tagged accordingly

[osaetti]

𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖎: old norse. 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝑨 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑫𝒀 𝑰𝑵: 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏, 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚕, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝, 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚜, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢; 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕.

𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗲 𝗺𝗰𝘂-𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗟𝗼𝗸𝗶 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗴𝗷𝗮𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻 / 𝗟𝗮𝘂𝗳𝗲𝘆𝘀𝗼𝗻. canon compliant from just before the end of Loki, season two. some mythological influences and dark themes are also explored. mutuals only, selective and 21+. beloved by bones. 33 ( she/they // pst ) discord available for mutuals. previously known as: osaelligr, svikinnar, ask-lokilaufeyson.

𝖒𝖞𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘: ( mains ) ·✦·  darcy lewis. ·✦·  prism. ·✦·   rán & ægir ·✦·  wanda maximoff. ·✦·

    carrd. // playlists: vol. I · vol II · vol III 𝙴𝚂𝚃. 𝙼𝙰𝚈 𝟼𝚝𝚑 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸.

[osaetti]

· · ─ ·✦· 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑺 𝑵𝑶 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑺, 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑵 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑬𝑹, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑮𝑶𝑫𝑺. ·✦· · ─ · carrd. // playlist. 𝙴𝚂𝚃. 𝙼𝙰𝚈 𝟼𝚝𝚑 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸, 𝙼𝙲𝚄 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳 && 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝙱𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚂. she/they. ( previously osaelligr // selective // 21+ // crossover friendly - mature themes. )

[samwinchestersongoftheday]

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[deephex]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆  ᴛʜᴇ  ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ  ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ  ʜᴇʀꜱᴇʟꜰ  completely  entranced  by  the  god  that  sat  before  her.  she's  comfortable  and  settled  for  the  first  time  in  what  felt  like  years.  she  didn't  mind  it,  she  just  found  it  unusual  to  be  able  to  relax  in  the  presence  of  someone  else.  ❝  unlived...  ❞  she  repeats,  contemplating  it  for  a  few  moments.  she  has  never  thought  of  it  that  way  before  but  now...  now  her  mind  was  changing  slowly.  loki  is  actually  getting  through  all  the  self  loathing  that  wanda  wears  like  a  suit  of  armour  and  that  almost  scares  her.  ❝  life  is  not  as  short  as  most  people  would  believe,  i  suppose.  there's  still  time  to  live  it.  ❞

        ❝  neither  of  us  are  truly  doomed,  darling.  i-i  mean,  loki.  ❞  wanda's  eyes  widen  at  her  own  blunder  and  her  cheeks  flush,  averting  her  gaze  from  his  in  an  effort  to  compose  herself.  (  where  did  that  even  come  from?  maybe  she  is  getting  too  comfortable,  she  thinks  to  herself.  )  a  tiny  giggle  leaves  her  as  she  watches  the  fireworks,  unable  to  stop  the  noise  of  pure  joy  escaping  her.  the  beauty  of  the  way  their  magic  seems  to  play  together  continues  to  please  her,  this  is  probably  the  first  time  she  actually  finds  her  powers  beautiful  and  that's  because  they  are  intertwined  with  his.  ❝  i  beg  a  thief  to  try...  i  don't  think  they'd  get  very  far.  ❞

        light  green  hues  hesitantly  come  back  to  meet  his  and  she  finds  a  shyness  brewing  within  her  at  the  darkness  she  finds  there,  butterflies  stirring  in  her  stomach.  there  is  something  about  him...  something  that  is  calling  to  the  inner  depths  of  wanda's  very  being  and  she  doesn't  know  what  to  do  about  it  or  if  she  even  wants  to  do  anything  about  it.

        a  soft  gasp  escapes  her  throat  at  the  sight  of  his  magic  moving  so  boldly  and  her  cheeks  flush  further,  now  a  pretty  dark  shade  of  pink.  her  own  magic  seems  to  relax  in  the  knot  of  his,  almost  submitting  to  the  feeling  of  being  contained.  ❝  it's  beautiful.  ❞  she  dares  to  say,  a  shy  smile  appearing  on  her  flushed  features  and  she  doesn't  try  to  hide  it  now.  ❝  i  didn't  think  there  was  anyone  in  the  universe  like  me.  ❞

        the  red  glow  of  the  chaos  magic  fades  slowly  into  nothingness  as  her  focus  shifts  entirely  to  him,  tongue  slipping  out  to  wet  her  lips  before  she  swallows.  she  wishes  that  her  blushing  would  fade  away  with  her  magic  but  it  is  still  there.  ❝  we  do  not  need  their  mercy...  ❞  she  trails  off  as  she  slowly  lifts  her  hand  and  reaches  out  to  gently  rest  on  his  cheek,  a  bold  action  she  hopes  more  than  anything  he  will  not  reject.  ❝  just  the  mercy  of  the  one  who  understands...❞  she's  referring  to  each  other,  her  thumb  brushing  lightly  across  the  apple  of  his  cheek.

[osaetti]

❝ ... life is terribly long and complicated. merciless. ❞ there's a rueful quirk to his lips, brows lifted as he meets her eyes and then lets his gaze drift to the side in unexpected contemplation. ❝ even for those with shorter lives. ❞ it's a rare moment of empathy, or at least something like it for those he's given little thought to in the past. it goes no deeper than a few seconds more before he's shrugging, languid in his movements as he leans further forward. ❝ although I suppose that's not what you meant, hm? what life unlived would you chase after? perhaps you would not need to hunt it down alone. ❞

a tentative promise lurks in his words, spoken by him but without his own permission. it's a fragile thing, offered before and rebuffed before and never thought to be offered again and then ─ and then he's blinking, head tilting, as she calls him darling. with such fondness. his own silent war is quite quickly forgotten.

he watches her with dark eyes, rapt, listening to her giggle. what a gift she feels so comfortable in his presence. what a miracle she would think to crown him in endearments, without hesitation. there's a sudden fondness in his burgeoning smile, and he lets it pass unmentioned in an impulsive kindness he feels no need to murder.

what a strange thing hope is, he finds suddenly. it seems too deeply unknown or too similar to moments in his youth, and it's been so long since he's felt it like a flutter in his chest, but he thinks that's what this moment must be as she watches his magic. her words are like magic also; wrapped around him with velvet comfort. he finds himself unable to speak still, at least until she touches his face with unfamiliar gentleness.

❝ nor I. if you would deign to grant me mercy there is none other who could ever compare. ❞ it's a dark and heavy oath, made quietly. he is caught between some uncertainty in this unexpected gentleness like a harried beast, and a vicious realization he would claim this as his own, and protect it from all harm. a breath and he leans in, eyes slipping shut and one hand covering hers. this moment is too precious, too unbelievable. yet he opens his eyes again to see that it's real, and presses his nose into her hair, allowing the gentle pressure of her hand on his face to bring them together. ❝ there are still marvels in this universe, something I have long since accepted as an impossibility. and not only do they exist, they have found me. you have found me. ❞

[osaetti]

( from Stephen ) ‘don’t embarrass yourself. you can’t beat me.’

Loki is smiling but there is absolutely nothing friendly about it. maybe tucked away in some icy corner of his smile is a very reluctant glimmer of respect. he raises his glass in a mocking toast as he narrows his eyes. ❝ ... hardly possible. ❞ he's nearly puffing himself up in indignant frustration but with restraint he remains sitting, posed like a lazy cat draped against the settee, wine glass half full ( some expensive looking bottle he'd found in the sanctum ), as he finally meets the sorcerer's eyes.

A moment, and he musters another breezy speech, though it's underlined with exasperation. ❝ if you took a moment, you might consider I'm not seeking a fight. ❞ to dig under Stephens skin, a bit, certainly. it's a bit of well deserved retribution.

[msoul512]

[osaelligr]

msoul512.

[sleepytimemusic]

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[osaelligr]

“I cannot stop breaking things. My hands have shattered more than I care to admit: Everyone I have ever touched has walked away with scars. I am all teeth and claws, sharp and pointed –– a thing like me can never be loved.”

— if you are the sun, i am a supernova. (CNS)

[xorcists]

There's something familiar in the way he speaks, her eyes lax much like her body posture. . .That final mental guard crumbling as she calms into a place of authenticity. Pale blues find themselves glancing to the finger tapping against his leg before lifting back with a faint smirk at the deflection. It's expected, of course, much like that silence they both allow to breathe.

❝ My landing. Well. . .❞ A thoughtful pause paired with an inhale and glance up to the lights overhead, ❝ It's. . .riddled with tragedy. I suppose that's why I have such a fondness for the trope. ❞ A twitch of her lip before she looks back to him. ❝ I started out in a much different place . One I tried to belong in for too long. When I made the choice to find my own way, I hurt many people, but. . .Perhaps most of all, I hurt myself. ❞ The confession is riddled with a troublesome blend of regret and bile, reflected in the disdain pulling at her lips with the furrow of her brows.

❝ When you. . .are different, the world likes to remind you just how much. . .and it's always dreadful. Something I believe no child should ever have to grow through. I began hearing people's minds exceptionally young, but before I knew where the voices were coming from, I thought it was my own mind. . .Sometimes the thoughts were pleasant, other times. . . .some of the worst things you could imagine. . .and because of it I was profoundly alone. I had no friends, I was the weird kid.❞ A sigh, her head shaking slowly as a breath escapes her lips, hands flexing. ❝ I thought for a long time that I had outran the desire to dig into peoples heads, but I didn't. In my early adult life I discovered the heinous things people thought in my presence, which is still happening. You ask if I've found my landing, and I suppose the truth of it is───I've wound up in a place that is truly no different despite wanting to pretend the opposite. ❞

❝ Still. . .I persevere. . .because when everything has been stripped bare, I am able to do so. . .It's a curse as much as a blessing I suppose. ❞ A half shrug, ❝ Unfortunate really. ❞ Only then does a soft breathy chuckle escape her lips, ❝ So let them be upset. They aren't happy to hear most things, which is the least surprising thing of all. ❞ Admittance to not intending to reveal their conversation paired with a creeping smile, ❝ People tend to forget I'm not morally just, I think it's because I like wearing all white.❞

[osaetti]

he stills himself as he listens, a concentrated and focused effort. there's discomfort in being known, seemingly, so readily. as willing as he is, as they craft this descent into a strange form of truth together, he finds himself unsure of whether he should stab, or soothe. metaphorically. it's a madly confusing fury ( deep seated and slow brewing, not yet surfaced, or perhaps burying itself deeper ) that it inspires, and so, again, he finds himself somewhere halfway in between and attempting to do both.

❝ so you wrap yourself in its burial shroud, content to do the bidding of others. I learned terribly early on where I was was not where where I belonged. I thought that well enough, I could adapt. I could remain there, in a gilded birdcage. and then I was cruelly reminded that was a fools dream. ❞ oh, how he sees himself reflected in her words; a draw too powerful to resist. ❝ so you hurt yourself. you found yourself a similar cage to soothe those wounds. will you learn from it, this time? will you tear them down, or yourself? ❞ it doesn't seem she will to him, the judgement painted like incrimination into his speech despite her obvious regret. there's some odd desire to share his rage, to wrap it like a gift and hand it over. ❝ perhaps you might flee. or allow yourself to rot. ❞

❝ and yet you claim to still embrace your gift. ❞ the final accusation is clear; Loki cants his head to the side, silky black curls tumbling across his shoulder as he offers another stilted smile, clear contradiction to his words save for how his fingers now slide across the runic iron bands welded into the skin of his wrists. while they hardly restrain his movement, they do quite neatly nullify his magic. it's also something of a silent question. or the foundation for one, as they continue this conversation.

❝ profound isolation often seems the same to me. a blessing and a curse. ❞ Loki murmurs this quietly after another silence settles, as he runs this gamut with her, circling round and round between anger and connection. ❝ it has afforded me a great many glorious and terrifying revelations ─ and a great many more scars. neither of which I have yet to determine the worth of, beyond fuel to the fire. enough reward on it's own, I suppose. ❞ finally, another smile blooms, less harshly framed in resentment than all the ones previous. ❝ is that so? ❞ he nearly laughs. his humor is only betrayed by the crinkle in the corners of his eyes. he leans forward, some dark glint in his eyes, whispering conspiratorially. ❝ have they made the most terrible mistake? ❞

[lostlostinthemusic]

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[dxrkeyes]

Right, they were going there, "Up t'you, homme..."

For once, his tricks weren't something he'd be able to rely on, being faced with the literal trickster god and all. While he hadn't experienced all he was capable of in person, he'd seen plenty of footage and read enough stolen reports to paint a fine picture.

Remy was inclined to agree, not wanting any more eyes on the scene, let alone the tablet. The last thing he needed was more company.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Ah, putain, "Sho'...can still admire beauty from a distance."

A hand rests just between the satchel, a mere flick away from deploying a card if needed. He answers his question, "Gambit'll do fine, an' in ma case, beauty gets me paid. Si vous voulez bien m'excuser."

[osaetti]

one brow quirks ─ he takes the man in, a bit more seriously than before, with a bit less theatrics. ❝ ... is that a no? if it's money you wish, that's hardly an issue. ❞ after all, D.B Cooper has a few million hidden away. and in this instance he finds himself willing to share, if it means they avoid a fight. although isn't it curious ─ Gambit ─ a thief, by all appearances, and yet... well, he's very nearly tempted to press the matter, but he folds his hands respectfully in front of himself, crooked smile still apparent.

❝ dashing away, are we? ❞ so, he is pressing the matter, mind changed in the matter of seconds. for all his cunning, impulse sometimes gets the better of him, some wicked desire to poke and prod and see what might happen. a flash like the mirage of a setting sun at sea, and he's three steps closer. not too close, but still a teasing moment. ❝ I would prefer not to shout across all that distance ... if it's all the same to you. ❞

[rimbuad-deactivated20180517]

[osaetti]

· · ─ ·✦· 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑰𝑺 𝑵𝑶 𝑷𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑨𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑺, 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑵 𝓮𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓽𝔂 𝑶𝑭 𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑬𝑹, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑮𝑶𝑫𝑺. ·✦· · ─ · carrd. // playlist. 𝙴𝚂𝚃. 𝙼𝙰𝚈 𝟼𝚝𝚑 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸, 𝙼𝙲𝚄 𝙱𝙰𝚂𝙴𝙳 && 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝙱𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚂. she/they. ( previously osaelligr // selective // 21+ // crossover friendly - mature themes. )

[osaetti]

( from Peter ) ‘you laughed at me!’

❝ yes, that tends to happen when something utterly ridiculous and terribly idiotic happens. ❞ he leans against the counter of the bar, scorched alien wreckage strewn around them and for once not his fault ( well, not entirely, he'd argue ). ❝ so, then. ❞ it's absolutely a taunt, and he smiles benevolently. ❝ go on. please, leave. before you make it worse. again. ❞ not that he expects the other to listen to him but sometimes he can't stop, can't prevent himself from continuing to dig in, his words a form of warfare all their own. he's even here to help, and he's still fluttering his eyelashes mockingly, daggers dangling from his hands. they're not pointed at Peter, at least. yet.

[metamorphesque]

"Crime and Punishment", Fyodor Dostoevsky (translated by Constance Garnett)

[deephex]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆  the  witch  had  been  watching  loki  study  for  at  least  fifteen  minutes  before  she  even  made  a  single  move  towards  him,  enjoying  just  being  in  his  presence  without  uttering  a  single  word.  without  a  word,  she  presses  a  gentle  kiss  to  his  forehead  and  smiles  fondly  down  at  him.  a  soft  giggle  leaves  her  lips  and  she  carefully  lowers  herself  into  his  lap,  hands  coming  to  rest  on  either  side  of  his  handsome  face  as  she  kisses  him  back  with  no  hesitation.  a  tiny  whine  escapes  her  throat  at  the  nip  and  a  playful  pout  adorns  her  features.  ❝ i  think  it's  you  that's  trying  to  tempt  me  now,  dušo. ❞

[osaetti]

❝ ... never. ❞ Loki's reply is instant, murmured teasingly into the corner of her lips before he withdraws ─ only just, enough to meet her eyes. barely. ❝ hello, then. ❞ there's a distinct glint of mischief in his gaze and in the way his hands curve around her hips to, ostensibly, steady her. there is gentleness in his touch, though, rather than ravenous hunger, as if he is cherishing the quiet comfort of the moment.

❝ what brings you to my lonesome corner? ❞ his voice is even, his smile wicked, but underneath, if it's looked for, there's an undercurrent of surprise. disbelief. perhaps it's something he should be used to, now; but every time she seeks him out with intention there is some strange surprise that lingers in the back of his mind.

[mindmedicine-blog]

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