How Raleigh Becket Changed His Tune Once He Met Miss Mako Mori: A Short Story

“You don’t understand, I’m a complicated hero with angst and man pai- OMG SHE’S PERFECT EVERYONE GET IN THE JAEGER WE’RE GOING MONSTER HUNTING”

Oh god I never noticed how his shoulders drop in that last gif. It looks like he is literally sighing over how perfect she is.

He LITERALLY sighs at her when she walks by. NEVER have I seen a main character hero who is an extremely masculine male be SO ADORING of a woman. He has literal stars in his eyes. He’s tipsy on admiration. He looks at her like she brought Christmas and puppies and chocolate cake.



about the runes on loki’s manacles


i have a toy mjolnir, and in marvel comics norse runes ™, it says “he who wields this hammer commands the lightning and the storm.”

the runes on loki’s manacles were literally copy-pasted from this toy, because both have spelled ‘who’ wrong – it says ‘woh’.

marvel i am not impressed. at all.

The fact that you’re struggling doesn’t make you a burden. It doesn’t make you unlovable or undesirable or undeserving of care. It doesn’t make you too much or too sensitive or too needy. It makes you human. Everyone struggles. Everyone has a difficult time coping, and at times, we all fall apart. During these times, we aren’t always easy to be around — and that’s okay.

No one is easy to be around one hundred percent of the time. Yes, you may sometimes be unpleasant or difficult. And yes, you may sometimes do or say things that make the people around you feel helpless or sad. But those things aren’t all of who you are and they certainly don’t discount your worth as a human being. The truth is that you can be struggling and still be loved. You can be difficult and still be cared for. You can be less than perfect, and still be deserving of compassion and kindness.

Danielle Koepke (via growrot)






It was impossible to say if the kiss was unexpected or not. She fell into it, clinging to him more tightly. There was heartbreak ahead, she /knew/ there was heartbreak ahead; this was Loki, god of liars, god of mischief. His entire aspect could change in the blink of an eye. But he wanted, he wanted like fire and the burning of stars, and she wanted too, and anything he asked of her right now she would say yes.

She sought, blindly, to get her hands under his shirt, needing to touch that cool pale skin. It didn’t matter that they were running away, lost in a forest and far from safety; it didn’t matter that not that long ago he’d been the enemy and then an unlikely ally and then gone.

Loki felt himself spin away under the delicate touch of her hands. Thoughts of fear, anger, isolation … all of it could wait. It all fell to the background as he sucked her lip between his teeth and pulled her closer still, leaning hungrily into their kiss.

He remembered the first time his lips had found hers; the fire was still there, after so much time apart. His mind was burning with emotions — hers and his own alike — like he hadn’t felt ever before. He was drawn to that fire like a moth. Helpless.

He crushed her so close her hands were trapped between them, fingertips scrabbling against his chest. She needed to climb inside his clothes, inside his very skin, so close nothing could ever part him from her again. The little voice warned, uselessly; she refused it.

“Please,” she hissed, in between kisses that made it impossible to breathe. “Please, I need you — ” She shoved up on her toes, strained upward, wrapped a leg around his body and tried to climb him like a tree. She burned, and he was ice; blazed, and he was darkness; two stars opposed and drawn into mutual orbit.

Loki chuckled as she wrapped herself around him, as he felt her flames projected all through him, and his chill reflected back as a desperate need to get warm.

But they were too close to the castle, and the areas patrolled by Odin’s men. And he could hear a faint stomping in the distance, like footsteps marching through undergrowth. Maybe he imagined it, or maybe they needed to keep moving.

He stroked her hair from her face, reluctantly lowering her back to the ground, taking care to run his hands over her thighs as he did so. “Later, Summer. We must keep moving.” His voice sounded strained and breathless to his ears, and his face was flushed. “I thought I heard something approaching. Let us find a camp for the afternoon before…we get too…”

She whined as he put her down, but he was right, and she knew it. Well, her mind knew it, even as her body complained of parting from him. She offered him an not-entirely feigned pout, reshouldering the backpack. “You’re right. You can be such a torturer!”

They tramped for several hours under the westering sun, barely speaking except to alter course. An odd harmony settled between them, though, and each one took opportunities to touch the other — holding hands through the shallow valleys, Loki lifting Summer up over tree trunks or large rocks as the ground steepened toward the distant mountains, Summer taking Loki’s elbow to guide him around smaller obstacles.

She spoke even less as the rays of the sun burned golden, then amber, feeling a strange pull. Not quite a guide, but a tingle, something inexplicable and utterly unrelated to the god at her side. Following a stream and the crumbling remains of a natural rock wall, they rounded a bend and came upon a low cave, partly screened by a tree that strongly resembled a weeping willow.