#ofsmokeandsmiles

“Dio, I need a favor.”

PLATONIC MEMES (meme)

I was gonna do these as separate things but ??? Given what we were talking about the building-own planet thing, I actually figured they’d all go together pretty well. 

In order, 15. Carrying them, 13. Rubbing their back after a hard day, 4. tucking them in, and 12. kissing their forehead. 

Loki cannot walk.

He has tried, to be certain! He has tried to bolster up the bare effort it ought require to push his aching, tired muscles from the ground and Skywalk the mile or so back toward the COTTAGE in which he has made a base for himself. To be sure, on the other continent, of which Loki has made two, there is a sprawling mansion awaiting them, but Loki despairs at the dust that gathers, and he is not like the Grandmaster, at his core.

What he builds may be huge, and sprawling, and EXHAUSTING, but he need not live in luxury to appreciate it. He is content with a small cottage, warmed with fire and with a bed of HEAVY STONE, all the better for his aching back. Everything aches, actually. It’s-- Well, it’s his fault entirely. He had overstepped today, but the planet, LOKI’S PLANET, is so well underway, and he had wished to populate it all the better with grasses and trees.

Flowers, fruits, bushes and shrubbery are yet to come, but across the world, now, he has laid seeds, and forests have grown beneath his careful seidr with alacrity, but all day, magic has been thrumming through his veins like electricity through a livewire, and now he has finally ceased his work, the pain at having done so makes itself known. 

Loki groans, and he shifts on the grass, pressing his face more STEADILY into the cool earth for a moment: the grass is pink and soft beneath his touch, and as the sun begins to set, the grass sings, softly. It is Melody Grass from Rigel IV, and he had such a great time laying it and convincing it to grow, but now, the music only lulls him further toward sleeping right here, on the earth.

And why shouldn’t he? It’s his planet, after all. Where is the Grandmaster right now, he wonders? On some planet nearby, undoubtedly, drinking his fill and enjoying himself, and--

The grass trills a high note, and Loki opens one eye. “Grandmaster,” he says, and despite the pain he is immediately pushing himself up from the pink carpet beneath him, but he overbalances, and lands upon his knees with a quiet oof. Must he be so tired? But the Grandmaster says nothing, merely chuckling quietly, and when his arms slide against Loki’s aching back, up against his knees, Loki groans softly, but the Grandmaster lifts him so easily. Loki lets his head drop against the crook of the other man’s shoulder, not quite able to muster the energy to throw his arms around the other man’s neck. “I missed you.”

More laughter. Soft, affectionate: it settles over Loki’s skin in a warm, pleasant haze, and lets his eyes droop closed. 

---

Loki lets out a HISS of pain, but the Grandmaster doesn’t relent: his clever fingers dig into the aching and overwrought muscles of Loki’s back, his heels pressing against the muscles before his fingers dig into the flesh between them. What glorious, seeping heat it is, radiating from his back as knotted muscle after knotted muscle is assiduously untangled, and the mere WEIGHT of the Grandmaster’s upon his backside and lower back is a pleasure in itself.

He is speaking as he works, telling Loki all about this planet he has been terrorising, and how much chaos he has been causing, and then he leans in, whispers how much Loki had been MISSED, the words wash over Loki’s tired skin like a balm.

He sighs, softly, under the Grandmaster’s weight. “You didn’t tell me how hard it would be,” he says softly. The Grandmaster’s derisive sound, mixed amusement, affection and superiority, is what he wanted, and expected.

---

Loki lies on his side on the SLAB of cool marble, his fingers interlinked with the Grandmaster’s. He has tried to draw his hand back twice now, and each time Loki had drawn his lips over the backs of his knuckles, silently imploring him to tell Loki one more story, speak some more.

Isn’t he tired? Yes, of course.

But it has been WEEKS, alone, hard at work, and although the time had passed so quickly, days passing him by like so much running water, now he aches to stay awake some minutes longer. The Grandmaster’s hand finally parts ways with his, and Loki laughs at his JOKING TENDERNESS as the sheets are wrapped tightly against Loki’s body, all but pinning him in place against the stone.

The Grandmaster has that far away look in his eyes, the one that makes his golden eyes look all the more entrancing, and Loki sighs, softly. “En Dwi,” he murmurs. The Grandmaster’s eyes flit to his, suddenly focused on this moment alone, and Loki smiles at him.

He says nothing more as his eyelids finally close.

---

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† for a kiss to say good bye forever.

Loki breathes heavily, shaking as he kneels in the middle of the cell.His head is bowed, his gaze centred on the ground, and he hateshimself. Hates himself. Hates himself, hates Thor for good measure,and then hates himself some more.

Betrayal. BETRAYAL. 

Because the Grandmaster had been just about to step in, on thevery verge of closing the wormhole, and Loki had needed to allowThor and Valkyrie and Banner to leave, needed to get them out,even whilst upon that ugly little ship, and Loki... Loki was powerfulenough. Throwing himself from the airlock, he had sustained thewormhole with his own magic ALONE, and he is so exhausted byit, his flesh burning with the effort of so much crackling energy thickupon the air and sizzling off his skin, that he’d be shaking werehe NOT terrified.

But now Loki is in a holding cell, and he knows what is coming.                                                      And he hates himself.

When the doors finally open, Loki does not move from his placeon the ground, instead staring at the Grandmaster’s feet. Thepalpable silence is not nearly as bad as the heavy blanket of POWER on the air - sheer, unadulterated power, biting at Loki’sskin and forcing its way into his chest, the magic of it ringingpainfully through his abused flesh, and Loki lets out a short,ugly little sound of pain, and grief.

                  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

He dares to glance up, sees the Grandmaster’s expression, andby INSTINCT ALONE, he shifts form his place leaning back onhis heels, letting out a heady sound of fear, of terror, and scramblingback slightly. The Grandmaster continues to advance. His expressionis almost impassive, almost, but there is a deepness to his eyes thatLoki has never seen before, a deepness that would lead Loki tothe very beginning of the universe were he to dive into them, andLoki cannot help the way his eyes BURN at the edges, the waytears break forth. 

                                             “I’m sorry!” he says again, desperately. “I wouldn’t have done it,                                                      I wouldn’t have, but he’s my brother, Grandmaster--”

And there it is. Even after Loki has saved him, Thor is ruining whatremains of Loki’s life. Stupid of him. STUPID. Loki’s heart is poundingso hard in his chest that he can feel his blood roaring in his ears, andhe scrambles back against the floor, feeling his leather boots andmanicured nails scrabble for purchase - gone is all that remains of hisrefinement and his princely dignity, replaced only by DESPERATION,self-loathing and an understanding of what is to come.

       “You would have done the same,” Loki whispers.                        “You would have - and you can’t lie to me, not after all this.                                                          If it had been YOUR brother--”

Loki nearly screams as the Grandmaster’s hand closes around histhroat, and he sobs, now, feeling the burn of tears upon his cheeks,and if he were only Jotunn, truly Jotunn, he would never cry at all. Sorry? SORRY!? Loki’s never been this sorry in his life. He feels hisbreath catch and snare in his throat, feels his lungs ache, feels hisskin SING for the Grandmaster’s touch, even though he knows whatis coming, and he says, “Just do it. Just do it.”

The Grandmaster’s expression remains impassive. And his eyes--

                            Is Loki imagining it? A softening?

                               “Don’t take pity on me,” Loki murmurs, despite himself. “I wouldn’t.”

        “Don’t tell me what to do, sweet thing.”

Loki is opening his mouth to reply, but then the Grandmaster’s mouthis upon his own, his lips surging against Loki’s, his mouth hot againstLoki’s chill, his lips dexterous, and Loki wails softly as he kisses himback, needs the connection, the fantasy of forgiveness, the way hismagic SOARS within him at every touch. 

The Grandmaster draws away, and Loki sighs, softly. The Grandmaster’seyes are set, and Loki meets them. Tears are still burning in theirtracks down his face, but his breathing is even.

Thor is safe. Loki will die. Die, having lost everything else thatmattered to him. “It’s alright,” Loki says. “I understand.” The Grandmaster’s lip curls, showing his teeth, and Loki feels hisflesh crawl. 

                            “You? You, ha. You don’t understand anything.”

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My Opinion on;

Character in general: omfg so i have to admit, i normally come away from multimuse pages with like, a vague sensation that i’m the least well-read person in the world, and that i’ve never seen a tv show in my life. but when i went through ren’s list i just got fuckin... excited, because i genuinely knew ?? over half of the muses there, and it’s such great craic to see them on the dash because like... wow!!How they play them: literally, amazing. wow. there’s such a variety to the number of muses ren plays but like, they’re all distinct at a glance, and every voice FEELS accurate and smoothly portrayed, and that’s SUCH a hard thing to do and i just find it so admirable? like, we’ve only RPed with the Grandmaster and Crowley so far, but those are both very unique, very particular kinds of patter, and they’re very recognizable at a glance, so they’re something you need to portray well, and ren, god, ren just does it EFFORTLESSLY, and it’s absolutely great.The Mun: ren is SO nice! i was a little bit nervous at first because like, i’m aware that i can come across as kind of a bit much to new partners, because i tend to bounce around ideas a lot and talk Too Much, but ren is so wonderful about it and it’s great to have a partner who’s so free and comfortable with like, bouncing ideas back and forth for hours on end. honestly couldn’t ask for a better RP partner!

Do I:

RP with them: yes ofc!Want to RP with them:  YAS, MORE MUSES, MORE ‘VERSES, LEGGO

What is my;

Overall Opinion: ren’s blog is a fuckin treasure on the dash, and i can’t recommend following them enough

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@ofsmokeandsmiles liked

For years he’d been recovering stolen artifacts from The People-- returning them to the magical entities from whence they were created. This work had led him down an unexpected path when he recovered artifacts that resembled goblin works-- but were comprised of materials that no goblin in Haven could have access to.

It eventually led him to realize a schism had separated a group of goblins from their fire-breathing counterparts-- perhaps millennia ago. This perhaps ancient tribe of goblins produced objects that varied in size. Tiny shields, spears, and helmets-- along with large remnants of armor plating.

Over the decades these had been collected by humans who had no idea of their worth. But the traces of magic within them was unmistakable. 

What had truly surprised him was that some of these artifacts had been made in the past few decades. Which meant there was an independent tribe of goblins still coming to the surface-- to do what, he wasn’t certain. Yet.

Artemis thrilled at the prospect of a mystery-- it was all he had to entertain himself now that he’d given up a life of crime for personal gain. He still participated in thefts-- but they were more along the lines of recovery missions. Reclaiming objects that belonged to his fairy friends.

He was currently pouring over some books in his study-- making notes and reading between the lines. These tomes had come from Haven-- Foaly had seen his cause as a noble one, and managed to obtain some old goblin texts. Now and then in the writings he came across a symbol he soon came to identify as ‘king’ or ‘ruler’ respectively.

The goblins once had a king-- but a portion rebelled. Likely those who could command their own magic and saw fit to rule themselves. That was when the schism happened.

Loki sighs softly into the other god’s mouth, leans directly intothe touch. It is STRANGE, in many ways: he and Dionysus aredifferent in a thousand ways, and yet united in thousands more.Each of them shares a glimpse of what is to come, and perhapsthat is why it is so easy to settle into the present, to focus on theway their bodies slot against one another, on the way they mightform two parts of a greater, chaotically nebulous, whole. 

And yet his words--

Loki smiles, equally weakly, the expression uncertain on his thinlips. Within him, he feels emotions surge like a storm - the urgeto drag the other man closer, to press their bodies together oncemore, but Dionysus is drawing back for a reason, and he is RIGHT.

“You fall madly anywhere,” he replies, his voice equally soft, and uncertain: the unspoken words are just that, unspoken. He doesnot dare to give them voice, and does his best not to even thinkthem. In bed - in love! 

                                                   But we mustn’t.

Each of them has SOME idea of what the future will hold, afterall - and what does any future hold, but more pain?

Reaching out, he cups Dionysus’ jaw, and he smiles distantly, momentarily a L E A G U E away... 

                        But we mustn’t.

       “Let’s try somewhere other than the bed... The desk?”