#staying out

[imagine-loki]

Imagine most of the Avengers consciously “staying out of” your relationship with Loki. It’s fairly easy to do, since you’re both professional about it in public and nobody wants to point it out and potentially make things ~weird~ for everyone present.

At least, that’s the usual pattern until Natasha and Wanda frantically pull you aside one afternoon.

“Uh, hey. Everything okay?”

“Hands!” Wanda blurts. “Show us your hands!”

You do, unsure what the deal is.

They each examine a hand, groaning and tsking. “Tell you what. Let’s all three get manicures. And we’ll get our hair done!”

“Sure! It sounds fun! When did you want to—?”

“Now!”

You don’t even get to finish your question.

At the salon, they ask you questions about Loki. How does he like his tea, is he a morning person or more of a night owl, et cetera.

One in particular almost makes you choke on your water.

“Have you... y’know... said the L-word yet?”

“Nat!”

Wanda giggles.

“Well, have you?”

“Y-Yes. Yes, we have. But why do you ask?”

“And do you, in fact, love him?”

“Of course, I do. Natasha, what’s going on?”

Natasha and Wanda give each other a look.

“I hear you have a special date tonight,” Wanda lilts. “Anniversary? Or what?”

“Just... I keep telling him not to go too crazy with big dates, but I know he likes doing that, so once in a while, he gets to go all out.”

“Once in a while, huh?”

The topic switches over to whether or not Wanda should get pink highlights, but your mind still wonders what’s going on.

At least when you go on your date, you’re confident that you look awesome.

Everything suddenly makes sense when Loki proposes to you.

[libraryofva]

Recent Acquisition - Postcard Collection

The question of the hour Postmarked July 1908

[mandelene]

Ooh, if drabbles haven’t been closed yet would you mind doing one where Matthew stays out later than he should have, accidentally or not, and it focuses on Arthur and Francis waiting for him? Hurt/comfort perhaps? Thanks so much 💕

Here you go! I was trying to come up with reasons as to why a young person might come home late, and of course, the first thing that came to my mind was taking the train at night on a weekend. That was always my reason for getting home late. 😅 I focused a bit too much on Matthew and less on Arthur and Francis, so I apologize for that, but they wait up for him and aren’t happy lol. 

Home Late  Word Count: 1156

Papa and Dad are going to be beyond livid. They’re going to be so angry that this night will go down in the Guinness Book of World Records—Matthew is all but certain. He’ll never be allowed to go out with friends again after this debacle. 

It’s well after midnight, his phone is dead, and he’s currently on what was supposed to be his train home, but it’s stalled on the Queensboro Bridge. He said he’d be home by ten o’clock, but that was before he remembered that the train ride back home to Astoria, which would normally take him an hour, would take him twice as much time given that the subway is running a weekend schedule and late-night construction and maintenance is going on due to signal problems—what else is new? He should have known better than to trust public transportation. 

But it’s not entirely the MTA’s fault. He planned to leave at nine but didn’t head out until a quarter to ten, so he would’ve been home late regardless of train delays. He waited fifteen minutes for the 1 train at 145th street and then another fifteen minutes to transfer for the N at Times Square. By the time he realized his phone had died, he and his friends had already separated and gone in separate directions. 

There’s no way he’s going to be so reckless as to ask some random stranger on the train if he can borrow their phone to text his parents. That’d be asking for trouble. Rule number one of protecting oneself in New York City—don’t talk to strangers, especially not in the middle of the night when you’re all alone and the trains are relatively empty and quiet. Always look like you’ve got somewhere to be and you’re in a hurry. 

In retrospect, he should’ve ordered an Uber as soon as he left the party, but he didn’t want to pay thirty dollars or more. It doesn’t matter how much a taxi costs, your safety should always be the top priority, and you shouldn’t be lurking around on public transport late in the night, Dad would have said. He can already imagine the lecture he’s going to get. 

Thankfully, the train finally starts to move again, successfully crossing from Manhattan into Queens. He’s so, so, dead though. This is what he gets for going to a friend’s party without Alfred, who didn’t come because he’s got a bad head cold. 

After what feels like an eternity, the train arrives at his stop, Astoria Boulevard. Then, it’s still a ten-minute walk to the house, and his heart races the entire way. Maybe they’ve gone to sleep already. They have work in the morning. 

He walks briskly—too briskly. He slips on black ice and lands on his palms. His left wrist erupts with pain, and he swears into the freezing January air under his breath. As if things couldn’t get any worse! 

Thankfully, once he cautiously gets back up, he only has one more block to go. He makes it to the front doorstep of the house without giving himself any further injuries. 

The light in the living room is on. Oh, no. 

He tiptoes into the foyer and feels a chill run up his spine as soon as he hears a stern, “Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland, where have you been? Do you know what time it is?” 

Both Dad and Papa have their arms crossed when they come to greet him, and Matthew doesn’t know how he should even start formulating his defense. All he can manage to say is, “I’m really sorry.” 

“Why didn’t you call us to say you’re coming home?” Papa asks, clad in his silk robe and slippers. “We were worried sick! We were ready to call the police! No text message—nothing!” 

Matthew lowers his head in shame. “My phone died, and when I realized it was dead, I was already at the train station, and all of my friends had left…And then there were delays on the train…And I’m really, really sorry. I left the party right before ten and that’s my fault, and I take full responsibility for that…I didn’t mean to make either of you worry. I thought I’d be an hour late at most, which still wouldn’t have been good, but not this bad…” 

Papa sighs. “I would have expected this from Alfred, but not from you Matthew!” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Francis, Alfred is sleeping upstairs...” 

“Right...I apologize, mon amour. I shouldn’t lose my temper.” 

“It’s late. We should all go to sleep. We can talk about what you could have done to have avoided this situation tomorrow, Matthew. What matters most right now is that you’re all right…And, it goes without saying but, you’re grounded,” Dad says. There are bags under his eyes, and the pit of guilt in Matthew’s stomach grows. 

“I understand…I deserve it.” 

He lifts his left hand to take off his winter hat and get out of his coat, but a hot, sharp wave of pain stops him midway. That’s right—he fell like an idiot. He almost forgot. 

Dad, always the observant one, notices instantly. “What happened?”

“Uhhh,” Matthew gives a nervous chuckle. “I m-might have slipped on ice while rushing home…”

“Did you hit your head?” 

“No, I fell on my hands. My left wrist took the brunt of it, I think…” 

“Let me see.”

Before he can move, Dad takes his left hand, and Matthew tries to hold back a wince. 

Meanwhile, Papa shakes his head and clicks his tongue, clearly overwhelmed by all of the anxiety he’s put him through tonight. 

“Can you bend it forward?” Dad asks. 

“Yeah.” 

“How about bending it back?” 

“Oww, oww,” Matthew hisses, pulling his hand away, and Dad frowns. 

“We’ll keep an eye on it. If it swells and hurts in the morning, you may need an x-ray…I’ll bring some ice.” 

Dad walks away for a moment to go to the freezer, and Papa pulls Matthew into a tight hug, unable to keep being firm because he’s obviously been very worried. 

“I’m so relieved you’re all right. Don’t ever do that to us again!” Papa scolds, squeezing him harder. 

“You didn’t have to stay up and worry, Papa. I promise I can keep myself safe. You and Dad taught me well.” 

“You’ll understand when you have children of your own. And you will stay up all night as well if you must because you will not be able to sleep until you know they are safe and sound and in your arms.” 

Although it sucks to be grounded and to have a throbbing hand and wrist, it would suck even more if he didn’t have parents who would stay up and wait for his return. 

He’s lucky to be so loved and worried about. He knows that if something horrible had happened, they would have turned the world upside down to search for him. 

And for that, he is unspeakably thankful.  

[carltondjr]

Montreal.

Summer is coming. Montrealer's about to act up. Bring it on.

[scotianostra]

Cash gets fed. 

Cropped this video down from near 25 minutes 

[lesbian--advice]

To the anon asking my view on terfs:

I reserve the right to answer or ignore any ask or submission I receive. With this in mind I will not be answering your ask.

[machetelanding]