If you’re uncertain in your affection and in their affection for you, you can so easily be turned and possessed by the green-eyed monster of jealousy, which eats you up and ultimately destroys the love that was there in the first place.

Tom Hiddleston

Def. feeling like half the people I rp with are annoyed with or have forgotten me right now. Probably overreacting, considering I didn’t sleep last night and haven’t been on the paxil like I ought to be. Or maybe it’s just time for a crippling surge of self doubt.

Oh hey Tom, expressin’ my feelings. You know, some of this is your fault too, man.

I just wanna write with people, and they’re always too busy for me. Screwed by my own skill; I go too fast and get impatient when people aren’t as fast as me.


Drinkin’ with the God of Mischief







“D-don’t,” she managed, once the seizure had run its course. “C-can feel that too. Ah god it /hurts/!” Biting her lip, she strained against a resurgence, fists clenched. “‘s not your fault, L-loki. I called it … t-to me. Should have ex—expected this.” Every breath shuddered in and out, shaped by force of will.

Finally, finally, the spasms ran their course, and she sagged against him, limp and aching. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” she whispered.

His hands reached out towards her face, shaking a bit.  He pulled them back to hide that unfortunate weakness.  ”No, I should not have involved you in my…” he shook his head.  ”Please…what can I do?” he asked quietly.  Helplessness was not something he could tolerate. 

Summer rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the lingering ache. “Are you good enough to give me a massage? I’ll beg, if you want. Gods, OW.” A swift circling of her head on her neck yielding a series of pops and a sigh of relief. “And don’t let me hear you telling me what to choose again. I could have let you go. Remember that, and don’t say you involved me.

“If nothing else, please just hold me for a moment, and let me pretend you care.”

Loki said nothing to that, only frowned.  For some unknown reason, he was bothered by his reputation; that was a first.

Careful hands worked over her shoulders, down her back, gently gathering her hair out of the way, and then he was holding her to him, quietly.  Like it or not, he had involved her.  And he had been involved with worse.

Summer stifled whimpers when he hit particularly sore points, burying her face in his chest. After a moment, she came back up for air, and murmured, “Let me guess. You think I said that because of who you are.” Her voice was a little raspy, a little tired. “You think, because you’re the ‘God of Lies’,” the quote marks were audible, “I believe you can’t care.”

Suddenly, she was hugging him, fiercely. “Did I not say, about your light? Of course you can care.” Muffled against him, she added, very low, “But no one cares about a firechild.”

“Why ever not?” he said, pulling back and looking her in the eye.  ”Why shouldn’t I?”  He felt all at once very out of control.  Was that dawn, fading in behind the sky?   “My lady…” He stepped away, paced anxiously as he smoothed his features back under control.

“No!” She flung herself down on the beanbag. “Don’t call me that. Don’t ever. I’m not a lady. I’m not special. You wanted company, you wanted to play at desire, and that was fine, okay. Don’t play with my emotions. I’ll give you desire, I’ll give you mischief, hell, I’ll even drive off your monsters, but don’t /play/ with my heart, mister.”