#anappropriatequestion

||ceeeeeease your illness. In all reality though feel better.

nevaaaar! you can't make meeee!! *rebellion*

✾ - Why I chose my character

I didn't mention this in the last one, but, uh, my bff and I created accounts for the Avengers on Facebook (and one of our print screen'd interactions has over 18,000 notes here on tumblr--those Thor gifs saying "this is adorbs and pleasing to my eyes" comes from that photoset of the FB interaction, no fuckin' joke) and one of the people I played happened to be Loki. These accounts weren't meant to be anything but parody, so they weren't meant to be serious at all, but it was there that I kinda got a feel for Loki a bit more and it's what really drove me to make his Twitter.

In a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muses reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.

Loki had been waiting centuries, not that he liked to admit he was eagerly waiting. Or maybe eagerly wasn’t the right word. Nervously sounded better. People around him, be it on Asgard or Midgard or really anywhere, were running into their soul mates left and right while Loki was left standing there staring at those numbers, frantically tapping them in the rare case it was broken.

It wasn’t broken. He just had a long time to wait.

Eight years he lived on Midgard, blending in, keeping out of trouble, placing his curiosity in subjects and matters that wouldn’t get him caught by Asgard. More and more people around him had wrists that blinked 00:00:00. At coffee shops, at grocery stores, in parks, at parties. Everywhere. Left and right. It drove the poor God crazy.

There was nothing he could really do, he knew that. Covering up the numbers never really helped, not going out just made him depressed, and trying to distract himself only worked for so long. He was grumpy, irritable, and depressed all at once and he was pissed with himself that he let a bunch of goddamn numbers bring him down.

You can imagine, though, the sudden excitement and nervousness he felt when he noticed he had only mere hours left remaining according to his wrist. It was a chilly autumn day and he was in some goddamn state struggling to hunt down specific items he required for potions, which was apparently a difficult task. His extensive list was in one hand and his eyes continuously looked from it to his surroundings almost constantly, as if that would somehow help him find these items faster. At the same time, the numbers on his wrist were counting down, only proving to frazzle him more. So at the same time he was looking for the store hopefully containing some of the items he needed, he was also searching for his supposed soul mate.

It was a frantic moment and he’d even spun on his heel to walk backwards for a few moments just in case the person was behind him. Somewhere between 00:00:10 and 00:00:05, he tripped. Normally such a graceful man, it startled him and he couldn’t catch himself in time before he was on the ground and someone else was beside him.

In his clumsiness, he’d knocked over a younger man with a cane.

"Oh, Gods, I am so, so sorry," he apologized frantically, quickly getting to his feet so he could help the other up. "I am. I am so sorr—"

He stopped, his eyes falling to the man’s wrist. It blinked 00:00:00, just the same way Loki’s did.

Send me a ♣ if you want to ship our muses

I’m gonna piss myse l f omfg

"That, uh.  That l-looks…"  The color in his face nearly matches the ice-pop and he shifts his weight , the grip he has on the cane in his hand.  "L-looks g-g-good…"  The ice-pop.  Not the motion.  Don’t call me on talking about what you’re doing, please, god.