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Flawless, breathtaking, inspiring, peculiar, funny, curious, these artworks are one of a kind.
Something about school just makes me curl up into a little ball and devour my soul out piece by piece. 

Lovely little image, isn't it? Tests. Projects. Quizzes. Assessments. Whatever big grading thing you've got. All bombarded, flying in my face every single day. 

Sorry about that. School might have driven me a little more than loopy these days. 

Let's catch up on all the things that's happened so far: 

1) Artistic Differences
I'm still continuing this series, don't worry, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to squeeze in time for writing. I do want to finish this series, however. The end is still a long way to go, though, if my ideas are carried out. I fully intend the series to be at least forty chapters long, or maybe fifty. I haven't ever reached fifty, so it might be interesting to hang that far. 

2) Halloween (Side note here)
For the first time in my life, I have not decided what I am going to be for Halloween. Shocker. I haven't even readied any costumes yet. I'm a little disappointed in myself. But the initial decision is that I'm going to be Benedict Cumberbatch's version of Sherlock. Either that or Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany's, or Carrie White from Carrie. Although that last one may be a bit of an obstacle, since I don't know if the school will allow me to walk around in a prom dress splattered with fake pig's blood. 

3) Supernatural 
Tenth season, anyone? Yes, I'm trying desperately to catch up, and I thought I might have the fourth season halfway through when October started. I didn't calculate the torture of school in the way. :TVmote: 

4) Doctor Who
Oh God. Let me just say this. I love Peter Capaldi, his acting's been phenomenal as the Doctor so far. Jenna Coleman's Clara has gotten more dynamic, and the relationship between companion and time traveler has increased in storylines. 
But one tiny little flaw. 

MOFFAT. 
WHAT. ARE. YOU. THINKING.

Facepalm 

Honestly, I could just strangle the man right now. Deep Breath was absolutely confusing. Bank Heist terrible. Don't even get me started on Listen. At least Into the Dalek and The Robot of Sherwood were fine. 
Mark Gatiss, please make the man come to his senses. Speaking of which...

5) Sherlock
New season in January. But I am so, so nervous about this prospect. After the disastrous attempt in Series 8 of DW, I can't imagine how Sherlock might hold up. I'm praying with all my hopes that it won't flunk. :uneasy:

6) Cold weather's coming. 
Normally, I'd usually introduce my good friend Jack Frost in here, but apparently the weather's switching on and off like a light switch. 

7) MOCKINGJAY PART 1
I'm purposefully avoiding all trailers of it for spoilers and trying to ignore the coming date, so it can sneak up faster on me. The last time I did this was with Catching Fire, and it was very effective. Hope this movie will be just as brilliant as the last. Fire Bird 

Oh, and the new movie theme song by Lorde? I don't care what anyone says about her, the song is epic. 

8) Blood of Olympus
Yup. I ordered it. Read it front to back. The Greek mythology stories are now over. 

My only question is why Riordan didn't put Percy's POV in there. He started all this, it would only be fair if he ended it. :reading:

9) Shameless one-shots
Apparently I can't really write long full series anymore with my limited time schedule, so I'm peppering my ideas little by little. It's difficult, though. The latest one was once supposed to be a drabble of Loki pretending to be Sherlock, but ended up in a five page storyline with the Reader dressing up as well. (Which all of you surprisingly enjoyed) And future ideas of using Loki as the consulting detective. 

Whenever I try to write, I can't write short. That's just it. If I write a story, it has to be at least six pages. And if you think that's long, try ten pages, that's my average. 

Why do I do this to myself? Writing Emote - NaNo5 

10) Just a question. 
Have any of you watched the movie Stoker? Or Only Lovers Left Alive?
That's all I'll ask. I'll post the reason when I get enough answers. :)

Thank you all for your patience and kindness. I'll try to be as diligent as possible. 
 
                                                                                                                                                            ~Kit Kat
  • Mood: Gloomy
  • Listening to: Yellow Flicker Beat
  • Reading: Thirteen Reasons Why
  • Watching: A Scandal in Belgravia
  • Eating: cinnamon rolls

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katnisseverdeen4life
Kit Kat
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
Let's just say I'm a writer with an obsession for Kit Kats. You might find me glued to my laptop, headphones on, listening to One Republic.


A waffle is a pancake with syrup traps. Being a pa
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          “Hey, Nat, you do know Halloween’s coming up, right?”

          The Russian agent’s chrome pupils narrow and zoom in on you, as if her eyes are spy cameras themselves. “How could I forget? After that Nightmare Before Christmas fiasco…”

          “I did say sorry! And those extra presents weren’t my ideas, they were you-know-who’s.”

          “Right, right.”

          You make a little noise of exasperation, throwing up your hands in the air. “Look. I’ve played that trick on all of you just to get your nerves on edge. But when Halloween actually rolls around, the little pre-show hasn’t got anything on what I’m about to pull off.”

          “Save it for the next person who’s stupid enough to go with your plans. I’m out.” The Black Widow refuses point blank, already turning her back on you and walking down the hallway.

          You call out at her retreating back, “It involves making the boys uncomfortable…”

          The redheaded assassin’s shoulders stiffen, the blackened leather bunching up in tiny creases. She turns around on one coal varnished heel, eyeing you a bit warily, but with a spark of curiosity in her pupils.

 

          Now you’ve got her attention.

 

          ~~~~*~~~~*~~~~*~~~~

         

          Loki’s crystalline eyes flick up and down your form. No surprise at all shows on that signature blank expression of his. However, a sheer line of perspiration dampens his lower lip, and he doesn’t seem to show any signs of articulating his mouth.

 

          “Black suits you.”

 

          You start a little at the compliment, expecting a backlash, or at least a clever retort. Then your lipstick-slicked lip curls back into an almighty smirk.

          Why not? You did just pull one over the god of all mischief.

          “This coming from the god dressed completely in green?”

          “At least I’m not a sorceress with devil horns on my head.”

          “Ahem, may I remind you of that frankly recognizable helmet of yours…” you cough discreetly into the back of your palm, which sports an impressive collection of smoke darkened rings.

          Loki gives a self-satisfied grin in reply. The girl’s no fool. “Just because I have horns on that doesn’t mean I wear it all the time.”

          “As opposed to taking it on and off again for the sake of vanity?” You lean against the gnarled wood of your thin staff, sending a gaze of complete contempt at your opponent.

          “If we’re on the subject of vanity, then I must say you most certainly are vain.”

          “How rude.” The purr that escapes your mouth nearly sends the god’s neck hairs on end. “And how, may I ask, am I vain?”

          “You have striking features now, lips red as blood, and skin as white as snow. Not to mention that your cheekbones are much more prominent...”

          One of your lone fingers swipes across the tip of your scarlet mouth thoughtfully. “My, my, I hadn’t thought you’d pay such attention to me.”

          “Well, hard not to, with that face.” The god of mischief smirks to himself, as he notices the girl’s eyes widen and dilate for a fraction of a second. Really, she was just too easy sometimes.

          But you refuse to back down from the game. “Did you just call me good-looking, Your Majesty?”

          “Did you just call your king, Mistress of all Evil?” he shoots back, equally as coy.

          “And what if I did? Don’t think you can escape the topic of vanity so easily. Your own cheekbones are so sharp I could cut myself slapping that face.”

          “Would you like to try?”

          You pretend to think on it for a long hard while. “Tempting.”

          The mischief maker looks at you from the corner of his slitted eyes, mimicking the actions of a prowling cat about to pounce. Somehow it makes you uneasy. “You’re not exactly excused, my lady, since your own cheekbones can cut a boulder in half.”

          “You’re too kind, my king. But only a lady? You do know that you’re talking to a queen…?”

          “As you wish, Your Majesty. Satisfied?” The returning answer drips with absolute contempt, putting heavily accented vowels on the royal title. But with a touch of – maybe – endearment?

          “Not exactly.”

          “And you’re also hiding something, Maleficent.” You shudder a little at your new name, making that idiotic Cheshire cat smile of his grow even longer. “Since when is your energy pulsing green?”

          “Since always, my observant darling.” It’s your turn to smirk when a nearly unnoticeable shiver travels up the Norse God’s spine at the word darling. “Why? You want it red like hellfire?”

          Loki nearly has to pinch himself to continue speaking. “No. Merely commenting.”

          “Ugh.” Tony groans, slumping over his seat like he’s had ten tequila shots. “If they don’t kiss in ten seconds, I’m going to start hitting myself.”

          “Haven’t you ever heard of flirting, Tin Man?” Clint guffaws, while patting the unfortunate playboy on the back. “This is going to take a while until they finally resolve.”

          Bruce leans back on his comfortable armchair, lazily watching the two of you banter with half-lidded eyes. He’s the one of the only people in the room that’s not wearing a costume. Sighing, he reaches for the nearest drink, which Tony is quick to swipe swiftly away from the scientist’s reach, he himself not wearing a costume, due to his inflated ego.

          “Stop messing around with me, Stark.”

          “Just trying to have some fun, Bruce. And really, I’d rather you busted out your own costume. It’s the night before Halloween, after all.”

          “The other guy is not a costume,” the scientist patiently replies with a tremendous effort of willpower. Any other person would have pounded the billionaire to a pulp already.

          Iron Man sighs himself, as if this fact is such a shame to bear. “Spoilsport.”

          The banter over in the corner increases in volume slightly. Loki absentmindedly puts a hand over your shoulder, causing you to temporarily lose your train of thought. Obviously a trick. A trick.

          “Hmm.” He mutters to himself, a sly smile on the tip of his mouth. The alabaster hand slips off the smooth fabric, and lowers to your shoulder blades. A sense of ice cold water brushes against your cape. You have to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from exclaiming sharply – he’s running that same hand across your back.

          The mischief maker notices your discomfort and smirks, thinking he’s won the game. “Where are your wings, My Queen?”

          “Someone cut them off, Your Majesty.” You answer with no attempt at hiding flirtation, openly challenging him. It’s getting harder to concentrate now. Not to mention you’re suddenly having breathing problems.

          “My, I’ll have to punish them for that.”

          “Don’t bother. They’re already dead – do you think I’m completely incompetent?”

          The raven-haired prince of Asgard shakes his head in a very genuine show of refusal. “No, merely amusing.”

          You raise your eyebrows, a little indignant at the snarky quip. Amusing? Not in this lifestyle. You’re a queen, and a queen doesn’t lower herself to the form of amusement for others. “I doubt you’ll find me endearing in a few seconds.”

     

          “Surprise me.”

     

          Damn that seductive accent of his.

     

          Clint snickers a little at this obvious bit of flirting, he himself dressed up in full Robin Hood gear, from the pointed feather hat to the crossbow with three arrows, which he plays with a little too much. But soon he forgets his weapon as a distraction in the shape of Natasha walks into the living room, wearing nothing but a skin-tight leather catsuit, complete with hand stitched cat mask. The fabric stretched to its limits on curves, leaving nothing to the imagination.

          Tony lets out a long and low wolf-whistle that can be heard from the Long Island Sound.

          “Nice costume, Nat. Although it would be better if…”

          “No, Tony.” She immediately answers, and to everyone’s shock, plops down on Agent Barton’s lap, apparently unfazed by the wide-eyed stares she’s getting, not to mention one archer’s increasing discomfort.

          Immediately Thor’s face lights up, and he cheerfully booms, “Congratulations for finally catching Agent Romanoff’s attention, Barton! How long is it since you betrothed her?”

     

          Which causes Robin Hood to splutter and turn a shade of scarlet that rivals a tomato.

     

           Back at the corner, you seem to have readily accepted the challenge, since you’ve unsheathed quite a long, ornate staff, covered in complex patterns of frost flowers from your midnight robes. It’s Loki’s turn to raise his thinly plucked eyebrows.

          “Not quite the weapon for the Mistress of all Evil, is it? Almost looks too pretty to be real.”

          Fast as a viper, you reach out your arm and slam the blunt end of the ‘pretty’ blade into the immortal’s stomach, causing him to crash onto the floor along with an ugly urn that breaks in a pealing jangle of notes. You stand over the groaning god of mischief, pointing the tip of the sharpened knife accusingly at his chin.

          “What was that you were saying about pretty and amusing?” you whisper in a sultry fashion, batting your eyelashes innocently. Two can play at this game.

          Loki chuckles to himself as he props himself up with struggling arms. “Perhaps I spoke too soon.”

          And then his aquamarine eyes really do widen this time, noticing your new attire. You’ve gone through a complete costume change. The shining dark horns on your head are no more, replaced with a regal ice crown that rests atop a hill of massively piled blonde and streaked brown locks. The fluttering robes that mimicked oil pooling behind you now have changed into a glimmering gown of crystalline fabric. Devil red lipstick now gone, leaving only a blank slate of a face that epitomizes dominance.

     

          The trickster recognizes the haughty expression well. It’s the face he always wore whenever someone below him was around.

     

          He’s not the only one who’s struck dumb at your transformation. Bucky chokes a little into his pumpkin juice when he sees you dressed in your White Witch garb. Steve has to pound the Winter Soldier’s back a bit to make the retching stop.

          “I worked a little magic into my outfit. I expect it wouldn’t be too easy for you, as you’d be tediously boring as not to change form.” You comment, already accentuating royal arrogance exceedingly well.

     

          Boy, are you in for a shock.

 

          In half an instant, the fallen prince of Asgard’s marble pale skin changes color abruptly, from the usual milk white to a deep blue sapphire. His usually metallic ice shards for eyes turn a shade of crimson that’s crossed the line of blood. Your regal atmosphere shatters only for a moment as your eyes show a flicker of curiosity as you look at the god of mischief’s true form. Loki wonders if he miscalculated her actions towards him, and for a dreadful moment, fears that she’ll let out a fearsome and beautiful laugh, bitter as a snowdrift.

          However, no inch of her lips move in the mere traces of a giggle, no less a laugh.

          “Jadis, Queen of Narnia.” The Frost Giant acknowledges your new title by nodding his head towards you in an introductory manner, as if the two of you had just acquainted with each other.

          “Loki, King of Asgard.” You taunt back, wielding your staff in front of you in a deadly arc of glistening silver. It vibrates musically against the darkly glimmering blade that the Norse God flicks out from underneath his robe. Your eyebrows now rise so high you fear they’re going to fall off.

          “How long had you had that until you knew you were going to need it?”

          The blue veined trickster smirks, leaning in until you can sense frost particles biting against your own pale skin. “I hadn’t. You merely provoked me to do so.”

          “Oh, does that make me an exception?” you snip, pursing your lips in cold-blooded amusement as you put pressure against your blade, vibrating it against the immortal’s own. He notes that you look the epitome of supreme royalty when you do so.

          “You think too highly of yourself, mere Narnian.” The mischief maker teases, not daunted in the least when you launch a fresh attack, swirling your staff until it just grazes the tip of his sharpened chin. You allow yourself a little smirk of pleasure when your opponent realizes you’ve bled him.

          “You’re out of practice, your Majesty.”

          “Not for long, Witch.” He snarls in almost an anticipatory manner, lunging towards you with no mercy. At first, you parry each of his blows easily, but soon have to fend for yourself when Loki begins to start a new attack – decreasing the forward action and moving towards striking at your weakest points, the waist, arm, and wrist. Perspiration dampens your lower lip as you analyze the situation, which wasn’t looking pretty, as your enemy had a shorter blade, therefore a much greater opportunity of stabbing you. Unfair, to say the least.

 

          Well, he is the god of mischief. One couldn’t expect him not to cheat.

 

          Thor looks on you with appreciative eyes as the two ice wielders’ weapons vibrate as they clash with one another, the energy already radiating a freezing atmosphere in the Tower. “A fine choice for a costume. Especially for my brother. She’s a match for him, maybe even more.”

    “Thor!” Bruce glares at him, frantically motioning at him to keep his voice down. For good reason. If either of the pair heard his commentary, they would not be the least bit amused. And it’s rather a bad idea not to raise tempers when the both of you have sharp objects in your hands.

          Thor makes no attempt to do so, only booming in his usual baritone, “What? I merely expressed my opinions, did I not?”

          All of the Avengers either stifle their laughter into their drinks or let their foreheads slide down to the table.

          The both of your weapons clang and reverberate with energy, diamond against midnight.

          The Norse god begins to talk over the loud clashes that the different metals make when contacted. “Both of us are somewhat similar, you know. You’ve had a drop of Giant blood in your veins.”

          “Not sure that very much compares to being full-blooded with ancient Frost Giant roots.” You remark, as if the pair of you are just having an ordinary conversation over teatime.

          “Oh, you’d call me out on my family’s ugly past? What about that charming little village of Charn you ruled over, before you ‘attempted’ to rule over Narnia?” Insert temporary rest to allow the irritating god to make sarcastic quotations with his fingers.

          “Don’t you dare arise the topic of failures, Laufeyson. You didn’t exactly take over all of Asgard last time I heard. Oh, and if you listen closely, you’ll hear that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s still cleaning up your little stunt in Manhattan. So don’t you dare call me out on my failures, you dirty little…”

          The prince of Asgard suddenly leans closer toward you, towering at least one head over with that dastardly smirk on his face. While the White Witch’s stature was tall, she’s got no match for a certain god of mischief.

          “Now, now, a lady shouldn’t say such things.”

          “I’m a queen.” You arrogantly toss your head back, tilting your chin up to meet the demigod’s piercing blue eyes, which he cups in one hand almost tenderly.  

          “Then allow me to be your king, Your Majesty.” Loki purrs, moving forward to meld his colorless mouth to your own ghost white lips. This time you let yourself reveal a shiver of delight when he calls you that, and you can actually feel him smiling triumphantly against your mouth.

          “No promises, my king.” You whisper back into his mouth, no less seductively, and sense a spurt of victory when you see his fingers tremble.

          Agent Romanoff shakes her autumn red locks out of her mask, finally retreating from her awkward position on Barton’s lap. Which is a good thing, since the Hawk seems to be having trouble articulating. This time more than half of the assembled heroes guffaw, without even trying to attempt their laughter.

          “Well, that plan was a total flop. Backfired completely.”

          The archer still seems to be having trouble thinking straight, asking somewhat dazedly, “Plan?”

          “Yeah, the plan to make all of you uncomfortable under our presence. Unfortunately, it seemed to have blown in the other direction for ____________________.” Natasha admits without any shame, waving a leather clad hand over in your direction.

          Tony rubs his hands together, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “It’s about time they’d got it on.”

          Clint frowns over at the two, who are still embracing. “You’d think they’d know when to breathe.”

          “They’re trying to move.” Steve’s brow clears, and understanding fills his eyes.

          “I think they’re frozen to each others’ lips.”

 

          ……

 

          “I’ll go get the camera.”

     

                                                                                                                         

 

Loki x Reader: Majesties
Yeah...^^;
There's really no limitations for me when it's Halloween. It's my excuse to go crazy with costumes, eat all the candy I want, and write endless fanfics. 
Oh, and the reason I cast the reader as both Maleficent and the White Witch was because I had planned to write this fic a long time ago, but couldn't decide what Reader-Chan should dress up as Queen of Narnia or the Mistress of All Evil. 

So I put her as both choices. 

This is the sequel to Pumpkin Song, for those who want to be informed, here's the first one: Loki x Reader: Pumpkin Song
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