Silver Tongue and Dangerous Smile @the-ever-changing-mask - Tumblr Blog

Cassandra Khaw, Nothing But Blackened Teeth

@the-ever-changing-mask

“I don’t know what living a balanced life feels like. When I am sad, I don’t cry, I pour. When I am happy, I don’t smile, I glow. When I am angry, I don’t yell, I burn. The good thing about feeling in extremes, is when I love, I give them wings. But perhaps that isn’t such a good thing, cause they always tend to leave and you should see me, when my heart is broken. I don’t grieve, I shatter.”

— Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

wolfpup026

god of stories

golikethatcat

Loki, to be lonely (quick charcoal study)

“To be free is often to be lonely.” W. H. Auden

tihohodka

Long time no see

xiuyuan-blog-blog

Watched Thor, Avengers, and Hollow Crown. Now I’m in love with this guy.

xiuyuan-blog-blog

Loki, you are a dangerous creature.

skaldish

I think it's time for a refresher about what a "trickster" is and what makes a character or deity one.

A trickster is a boundary-crosser; an entity who highlights the rules and conventions of society by calling them into question, usually with their actions, and usually by breaking said rules and conventions. This helps us assess why these rules are in place and if they even serve us.

Because of this, tricksters tend to be transgressive and subversive. Sometimes this can be very delightful and other times can be very uncomfortable, even repulsive.

"Trickster" is a function, not a personality type. Sure, many tricksters are cocky and possess a devil-may-care attitude, but so do other beings who aren't tricksters, and there are many tricksters out there that don't have these personality traits.

Tricksters don't exclusively deal with absolutes. Everything they do changes depending on the situation they're dealing with and the goal they're trying to achieve. And unfortunately, this is what many people seem to misunderstand.

For example, I often see people say, "Tricksters are never trustworthy," or, "Tricksters always have ulterior motivations," when the truth is that tricksters are situationally trustworthy, and tricksters situationally have ulterior motivations.

Tricksters are capable of being selfish or selfless, helpful or harmful, constructive or destructive, kind or cruel, etc. all depending on what it is they're trying to achieve. We may not always know what they'll choose because they're operating at a higher level of meta than we are.

This is the nature you're dealing with when dealing with a trickster. They're not "secretly a villain" or actually an "unconventional and misunderstood hero." They're a trickster, and that moral gray is what you're going to get when dealing with them.

mommo-fanart

viaov

Matteo Scalera, Lady Loki

rylandsgrace

(x)

All at once, her eyes snap open. She stares at the ceiling. The room is dark and cool. "Odysseus is the only person who'd believe Cassandra." Late night thoughts are a bitch.

Still half asleep, Loki snuggles closer, curling against her back and brushing their lips absentmindedly along her bare shoulder as he murmurs, "Yes, I also seem to remember you saying that nobody would ever overhear you crying out my name either. Shall I assume Odysseus has overheard us too?"

A smile nuzzled against the nape of her neck, "Do you think he's a voyeur?"

#fiddlingonthetympanic #cw sex mention #tagging to be safe #they're in cheeky mood

"How do you give a lemon an orgasm?" She doesn't wait for their response, instead raising a hand to wave to Lady Sif, a grin flashing across her face as the woman reverses course and strides toward the two of them. "Tickle its citrus."

Loki sighs, a heavy, heaving, long-suffering exhale, and only lifts an eyebrow, "Have you been watching that grapefruit video again?"

#fiddlingonthetympanic #;)

litzebitz

Lady Loki + Klimt

fiddlingonthearchive

😭 ~the-ever-changing-mask

NON-VERBAL STARTERS - @the-ever-changing-mask - NOT ACCEPTING

😭 - to find my muse crying

Two months into her marriage, Tess gave into the urge to cry–and then threw up all over herself. Fucking psychosomatic reactions. Waste of a dress. Waste of good food. Waste of her damn dignity–but at least the necklace would clean up nice and pretty. She stared down at the chain of emeralds spread across her vomit-covered lap.

She enjoyed the jewelry–the slither of chains between her fingers and the chill of gemstones to the touch before they warmed to the heat of her body. She appreciated the weighty practicality: the hours of sweat and effort that went into each piece, of having something, anything valuable to sell in an emergency. She even liked removing every necklace, earring, and brooch, as if she were casting off a glittering skin she’d outgrown by the end of the night.

Enjoyed. Relished. Appreciated. Liked. Past tense. (Puked.) The shine was wearing off, and just then, all she wanted was home. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, snot tracking down her nostrils and toward her bottom lip. She snuffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Dress was ruined, anyway.

At the sound of the door clicking shut behind her, she sucked in a deep, shaky breath and scrubbed her hands down her face. Fuck. Just a second to compose herself. She needed–

‘Fix it,’ she hissed to herself, baring her teeth. ‘You made your choice. Get on your feet. Clean yourself up. You’re Virginia G-ddamned Woolf. This is nothing.’

She drew in one more deep lungful of air to brace herself, wiped her nose one last time, and rose to her feet. The necklace hit the floor with a soggy plunk as the night’s meal of roast beef, grilled vegetables, and red wine dribbled down her skirts after. That didn’t stop her from smoothing her palms down her skirts; she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and turned just enough to stare at the blonde, fox-faced servant standing beside the door.

Bile rose in her throat all over again. She swallowed it down along with the wrenching need to burst into fresh sobs. Her throat ached; her ribs squeezed in a vise. “Embarassing,” she breathed. The smile on her face is thin and close-lipped. (She wraps her authority around her like a fucking cloak.) “Asgardian food doesn’t agree with me yet. Will y–”

(’Shoulders down, neck long, and just think “murder”.’)

Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek. “Come help me change. I can’t reach the h–-” Her stomach lurched--”hhhooks at the back of my gown.”

#unsanitary cw #oh poor dress #and poor tess too i guess