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catherloki.bsky.social
Cath M 🍁
@catherloki.bsky.social
330 followers 190 following 9K posts
Yorkshire-Scot lassie in Glasgow.

Loki (myth & Marvel), Doctor Who, science fiction, Middle Earth, books, history, holidays, Scottish literature, Scots language (slightly lapsed), Cas Tigers, food, running, writing.

Tumblr: supervillainarchaeologist
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catherloki.bsky.social
I've only seen the film once so am not sure if this is something because I don't know if I'm writing it in character and that annoys me...

(Also please know that I personally am straddling the ambiguous "possible lover or substitute mother figure?" line with these two...) #Frankenstein2025
Elizabeth is dead. It creates an ache within but he knows and accepts this. She passed from the world years previously, and Victor followed long ago, his presence still looming large in the Creature’s heart. But it’s Elizabeth who truly possesses whatever forms his soul. He doesn’t know if it’s another cruel quirk of his unnatural biology—his dreams brought forth into miserable reality—or if her shade has truly risen from the grave. But she is here. She is always here. Beautiful and open; the only one who looked upon his patchwork flesh and saw the person beneath. He turns to her now, falling to his knees to embrace her slight yet solid form. She strokes her cool fingers over his scalp and cradles the back of his head, accepting him against her trembling breast. “I wish you were truly by my side,” he mumbles, nose nuzzling into her bodice and closing his eyes. She shushes him, rocks his body with a sway of her hips. “I’m always by your side.” “I forgave him,” he confesses. An unburdening Elizabeth has endured countless times. “It was the right thing to do,” she replies, sliding a hand beneath his chin. His eyelids flutter open and she tilts his head up, her kind gaze never leaving his face. “You’re more like him than you’ll ever know.”
November 5, 2025 at 8:21 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Some of you are hopefully gonna love this chapter... *waggles eyebrows at Jess in particular*

The Haunting of Dol Guldur
Rating: E
Chapter 3/?

archiveofourown.org/works/728880...

#Haladriel @hellghoulweek.bsky.social
Black and white photo of some arches with a Gothic shaped window in the distance. There is red writing on the image stating the work title: The Haunting of Dol Guldur.
October 31, 2025 at 8:39 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Lmao and there we go…

I’m honestly so depressed because this fic is getting so little in the way of kudos that the comments are the thing keeping me going. To see a comment email in my inbox and it’s one of these fucking twats.

Knowing they were probably a scammer, doesn’t upset me less tbh.
Your welcome I'd love to to explain the idea in more details, it might be easier to chat somewhere outside AO3
October 31, 2025 at 11:33 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
Taking photos in black and white a couple of weeks ago = accidental season appropriate shots. One being obvious Gothic vibes, the other looking like some ghosts might be conversing at the pub...
A series of Gothic arches beneath a building looking into a distant courtyard. Three empty chairs and a round table in front of a white brick building with windows framed in black squares. The chairs are pulled out like there might be someone sitting there ooooh.
October 28, 2025 at 7:37 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
It’s pretty annoying that the username having a string of numbers made me suspicious because this is a lovely comment right? Well, they registered only days ago and there’s nothing on their profile, not even bookmarks. So I’m reluctant to reply because I worry the art scam commission is coming :/
AO3 comment that reads: Is it normal to be jealous of how well someone writes? Because I’m very jealous.
October 27, 2025 at 10:51 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
It's past midnight in my time zone, meaning it's the 27th and time for a new prompt...

The Haunting of Dol Guldur
Rating: E - yes, this chapter earns that rating!
Chapter 2/?

archiveofourown.org/works/728880...

#Haladriel @hellghoulweek.bsky.social
Black and white photo of some arches with a Gothic shaped window in the distance. There is red writing on the image stating the work title: The Haunting of Dol Guldur.
October 27, 2025 at 12:35 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
Ok so, didn’t expect to cry at this…
A hand holding aloft a ticket for Frankenstein on 25th October at the Grosvenor cinema in Glasgow. The screen is visible in the background.
October 25, 2025 at 7:21 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
The Haunting of Dol Guldur
Rating: E (not really earned this chapter!)
Chapter 1/?

archiveofourown.org/works/728880...

#Haladriel @hellghoulweek.bsky.social
Black and white photo of some arches with a Gothic shaped window in the distance. There is red writing on the image stating the work title: The Haunting of Dol Guldur.
October 24, 2025 at 9:40 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
lol...happy three years to this particular seed being planted...

(Regularly cursed to like the villain best. Sigh.)
Facebook post from 19th October 2022 that reads: Of course the weird-hot moody smug guy in Rings of Power is [spoiler]...lmao why am I like this?
October 19, 2025 at 9:04 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Annoyingly Cineworld stopped giving us actual tickets a while ago. So another bonus side effect of losing access to a Cineworld is… actual ticket!
A ticket for the 3:35pm showing of the film I Swear in The Grosvenor cinema in Glasgow.
October 11, 2025 at 5:58 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Miserable week.

I’m also embarrassed at the original work I’ve ever sent in to competitions. No wonder I got cold “no thanks” emails. I had no right to enter.
It’s an “I hate my writing” sorta week. When I’m drafting I tend to write dialogue then fill in around it. Sometimes I move dialogue several times. Ever since I had something pointed out to me I’ve noticed I make essentially a basic grammatical error A LOT. It was in everything I wrote this year. I spent hours painstakingly going through everything and removing the error but I can’t help feel the damage is done. Because I can’t help thinking of those people who say “if I see a basic spelling, grammar, or syntax error - especially constantly in the first chapter, I backbutton.” Just makes me feel like there will be people not reading me, not recommending me because I essentially taught myself how to write fiction as an adult (my school in England was fucking useless when it came to creative writing btw) and even at the age of 40 I’m still not good enough.
October 3, 2025 at 9:35 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
Saw this on Threads and *LAUGHS SO HARD I DIE IN ENJOYS THE RINGS OF POWER*

The delusion 😂
Screenshot that reads: Hot take: Lord of the Rings has a healthier fanbase than Harry Potter because it never taught them to sort themselves into subgroups based on personality. Are you a hufflepuff or a slytherin? Who cares, I'm taking this jewelry to a volcano with my best buddies bro we're gonna eat some bacon and kill Satan
October 2, 2025 at 9:49 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
Stu had to get me a backup card for yesterday because the one he originally ordered didn’t turn up on time. It turned up today though! #Taskmaster
Cartoon image of Jason Mantzoukas and Stevie Martin with a pile of blue tennis balls between them. Stevie is holding two red wooden spoons and saying “I’m locked in.”
September 27, 2025 at 5:01 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Starter: Cullen Skink
Main: Saddle of Venison with haggis, braised turnip, pomme purée and broccoli
Desert: Tira’Mac’Su
Wine: a surprisingly nice German rose.
A bowl of Cullen Skink. Venison and vegetables on a plate. Tiramisu in a tall glass for some reason.
September 26, 2025 at 9:09 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Scotland decided to be beautiful just for me today.
The water at Loch Lomond with unseasonably green trees in the background, blue skies and clouds. A shadow of a man and a woman reflecting on the shore/water of Loch Lomond.
September 26, 2025 at 12:40 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Woe is me needing to drive back to Glasgow with this in my passenger footwell!
A bouquet of flowers (apparently a Scottish selection) in reds, whites and greens set in pink and white paper and sitting on a round brown table.
September 25, 2025 at 1:19 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
I was looking up old gifsets on tumblr for... reasons (ok ok, fic inspiration) and my Internet fucking stuttered on THIS gif and I can't stop giggling because he looks like such a fucking loser (affectionate.)
Sauron as depicted in the Season 2 finale of The Rings of Power in his Annatar form. He has a bad blonde wig (someone get that Maia some conditioner) and freaky contact lenses but more importantly WHAT is going on with his mouth? He's saying the line "to worship the light of its Queen" and this has been captioned in the gif.
September 22, 2025 at 10:42 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
A semi-regular working from home activity is needing to crack this dickhead’s spine because his mace causes him to slowly tip forward with the passage of time.

(This cabinet is behind where I work, it takes a handful of seconds and tbh it’s funny - maybe I should bend him toward his feet instead.)
A selection of action figures displayed in a glass cabinet. From left to right: Indiana Jones, Silver Age Thor, Sauron as depicted in the Fellowship of the Ring film, TVA Loki, Rey.
September 22, 2025 at 10:02 AM
catherloki.bsky.social
Taking a break from "Annatar is a really annoying ghost in Modern AU" to "Annatar is a really annoying jailer in canon-adjacent AU" because somehow, after a few weeks of meh I am back on my Inferno bullshit...
“Was any of it real?” she asks, the need to know swallowing her fury. Annatar perches next to her, smirks as he rakes his eyes over her body “some,” he responds. Galadriel flinches, shrinking away from fingers sliding along her neckline and dipping beneath to caress her warm skin. She knows the look he wears, has seen it too much while she tumbled from memory to dream to false memory. He’s reminiscing, focusing on the body that has been at his mercy for weeks, perhaps months. Even now he’s greedy for her, his passion burning dangerously in the firelight. “Tell me,” she demands, her patience thinning. He leans closer, lips ghosting over hers “kiss me.” She snorts, scoots a little further up the bed until the chain pulls taut. He follows, walking with his hands along the mattress until the distance closes, mirroring every tilt of her head, denying every attempt to escape his piercing gaze. “Have it your way, I won’t tell you.” “You’ve had quite enough from me already,” Galadriel snaps. “If your revulsion is such that you won’t grant me one little kiss…” he lifts away, moves to rise from the bed “then I shall leave you and your answers wanting.”
September 20, 2025 at 4:07 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Using my fandom so the numbers might look different for others but…

Hey kids, check out this REALLY COOL AO3 hack!!!
A screenshot of archive warnings on AO3 with the EXCLUDE and RAPE/NON-CON archive warnings ringed in red. So easy to find, so easy to do! With just 2-3 clicks of your mouse all the non-con disappears!
September 19, 2025 at 12:02 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
I swear I'm not gonna post ALL of this fic before the end of October but damn, I'm having too much fun riffing on the common/famous Hill House events...

(Still Annatariel for Hellghoul week, even though he hasn't really shown up yet, other than as a painting, 5000 words in!)
Dawn arrives on the second week, the peace finally broken. Galadriel never sets an alarm, would never need one on this particular morning. Bleary eyed, she rises from her bed and shrugs on her dressing gown, in no hurry to confront the person rapping furiously at her door. It’s only when she unbolts the lock and turns the handle that she recalls the commotion from the first night. Relief washes over her when she realises daylight surrounds her, quickly leaves the moment she’s confronted by Disa’s unpleasant scowl. “Perhaps you can explain,” she snaps, polite greetings cast aside. Galadriel stifles a yawn, feels it may inflame this already fraught hour further “I’m sorry, I’ve only just woken up.” “Have you now?” Disa grabs her wrist and pulls “come with me.” The housekeeper practically drags Galadriel over the landing, nails digging deep into her wrist bones. “It’s alright, I can follow you!” Galadriel grumbles, refusing to budge any further until Disa releases her. They hurry down the first set of stairs, stop abruptly before the grandfather clock. Finally, Galadriel understands Disa’s anger. Above the clock, its pendulum clicking steadily, a heartbeat spelling Galadriel’s doom, she cannot miss the letters. Sprawling in red, hurried strokes dripping like blood beneath Judgment Day, lies a single ominous message: Welcome Home Galadriel.
September 15, 2025 at 10:35 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
Forgive me Shirley, my fanfic homage is inferior to your great work but I just couldn't NOT include the hand scene 😬
Nori buries her face into Galadriel’s chest, one hand resting on her knee while the other still clutches Galadriel. Again wood panels shudder inward, the door handle spinning wildly left to right and accompanied by a series of furious knocks. Then, with a sudden and eerie silence, it ceases, the doors resting still in the frame. A heartbeat later, Nori leaps to her feet with a terrified yelp, her nails scraping along Galadriel’s knuckles as she rises “something touched me!” she cries “something was holding my hand!”
September 14, 2025 at 7:37 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
I might not be able to actually finish any fic but boy will I START too many fics 😭

My second Hellghoul Week idea (and yes, it's shamelessly ripping off a book, which I will credit if I actually finish and upload this to AO3!)

#Haladriel #HellghoulWeek2025
Dol Guldor stands by itself, perched atop a dark mountain and veiled by mist. Its turrets twist high toward stars winking faint against a navy sky, battlements sprawling between them like jagged teeth. Inside, stone walls meet neatly, wooden floors hold firm and every great door remains sensibly shut. Whatever walks among its vast halls walks alone. It is among this silent insanity that Galadriel Noldor finds herself one evening. Perched upon an opulent settee, her knees angled away from the sprawling form of young Lord White (the most spoiled heir to ever inherit, if such a thing were possible), she picks at her sleeve and observes. Dr Pilgrim is crouched before an ornate fireplace, grumbling while stoking the flames, his wiry limbs and wild grey hair illuminated in the soft yellow light. Opposite, occupying the space next Dr Pilgrim’s temporarily empty seat, Nori Brandyfoot fidgets with her terracotta skirt. She too appears uneasy, and it isn’t difficult to imagine why. The wind whispers through the rafters, a mournful sigh released from the flue and sucked into stone lungs, each chamber of the manor pulsing like a living organism. Then there is the painting. Centred above the mantlepiece, surrounded by a gilded frame carved with intricate flourishes, rests a portrait of a cold and severe man. His black evening wear suggests a time long passed, his own presence on Earth long elapsed. Yet his otherworldly eyes, so green and grey in the eerie shimmer cast by orange flames, appear to follow any soul who looks upon his delicate white face. He stands proudly, one hand resting over a silver-topped cane, a single gold ring on his index finger. “Who is that?” Galadriel asks, transfixed. The artist had talent, she could almost believe she’s scrutinising a photograph, or even a mirror. Each long blond strand falling over his shoulders appears a slightly different hue, as though painstakingly painted individually. She feels Lord White—or Cumuro as he insists on being addressed—shift and snort next to her “where to start?” He reaches for the decanter on the coffee table, pours himself another whisky, swirls the amber liquid beneath his nose before he takes a sip. “My great great uncle; an eccentric to put it mildly.” “It’s a rather sad tale,” offers Dr Pilgrim, replacing the poker and returning to his seat. Nori stiffens, glances toward Galadriel, a haunted look cast over her features. “One that I’m not sure is suitable for bedtime,” he continues. Nori lets out a breath. “Isn’t it? I’d say it’s perfect. All the elements of a good ghost story,” says Cumuro, draining his glass “the obsessive bastard kept adding to this house, striving for perfection. But he never married. A bird feathering an empty nest. And then he pushed a dagger through his heart,” he slams the glass on the table, points toward a door behind Nori “right there. Some say you can still see the stain on the rug, if you look hard enough.” This time Galadriel tenses, the air suddenly oppressive. She feels watched, coveted—as though the house wants her here, needs her here. She glimpses at the portrait again and startles. The mouth, set in a hard line in her memory, now curls subtly at the corners and the eyes? They do not move. Not now. Now they see.
September 14, 2025 at 3:54 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
First thing I've written in nearly a week I think?

I finally started on one of my Hellghoul Week ideas 😭

(The sorta locked room thingy I mentioned.)

#Haladriel #myfic
Cold metal suddenly presses beneath his chin, a threatening point digging against the vitals within his throat. He closes his eyes and grins, shifting his weight only a little but earning further ire regardless. The dagger’s edge scrapes a familiar diagonal path between jaw and shoulder, its bite insistent yet drawing no blood. “Do not move,” she instructs, the blade holding steady through the obvious tension in her wrist. With a gentle thump his head hits the wall at his back, his disobedience rewarded; she digs her weapon a little harder, his pulse quickening and harmonising with her furious breath. “Galadriel,” he chuckles, taking care to drawl as the Man would, the haughty Elven vowels long discarded by his tongue. Finally, unable to resist further, he opens his eyes. He attempts to hide his urge to smile, knowing he has failed miserably. She’s still lovely of course. Lovely and murderous. Specifically, she still wants him dead; he can see it in the darkness seeping into her beautiful blue eyes, the very mark he scored across her soul. But his brow knits in confusion, a memory of battle forming and Galadriel resplendent in full armour, her sword swinging above his head. Before him now she wears only a simple white shift, its shape alarmingly familiar, her golden hair unbraided and cascading free down her back. “Whatever evil you wield to keep me here,” she says, her gaze holding as he brazenly appraises her “release me.” Sauron snorts, hissing the second she tilts her hand and jams the point of her dagger behind his ear “this isn’t me, I swear it.” She grits her teeth, leaning closer to hiss “your words are worthless!” “Oh do stop thinking too much of me Elf,” he replies, slowly raising his hand and curling his fingers over her wrist. It has the desired effect. She instantly snatches away as though burned, the dagger lifting from his throat. “If I wanted to trap you somewhere, what use is it rendering myself unconscious and allowing you to wake first?” The dagger still hovers point-first mere inches from his nose, the shake in her arm increasing. Sagging, deflated, she falls back onto the floor, shuffling backward into a corner, hands clasped over her knees with the blade resting across her skirts. Her weapon, he’s amused to note, appears to be a poor imitation of the one she obsessively carried in Númenor and beyond. If he didn’t know any better, and he still had no idea what was even happening here, someone has attempted to recreate their first meeting. Though he notes, with some relief, that he is clad in a simple navy tunic in place of rags. “What do you remember?” asks Galadriel, eyes flicking up only briefly, as though she cannot stand to look at him for longer than she must. He’s a little taken aback by her question, so certain that this particular stalemate could only lead to awkward silences and the pretence he wasn’t even here. “Fighting you,” he offers, feeling charitable “your sword raised and,” he pauses, waits for her to risk another glance in his direction “your lips perilously close to mine.” She flushes, squirms, her teeth grinding “be silent!” she hisses. “You asked me a question,” scoffs Sauron “I answered truthfully. Besides, you attempted to kiss me. Don’t deny it! I knew it was a distraction but I let you anyway because—” “—because you wanted it,” she interrupts, smirking triumphantly. “Well, what a waste for that particular tactic my sweet Elf. Because someone else saw fit to attack this mortal form while I was busy admiring you. Next thing I know, I’m waking up in a strange room with the same exceptionally angry Elf threatening to slit my throat. I preferred it when you wanted to kiss me Galadriel, honestly.” With a snarl she launches herself across the room, her blade returning snug against his neck “I didn’t want to do it. It was necessary!”
September 12, 2025 at 11:02 PM
catherloki.bsky.social
My 2025 word count and the way the hits bar graph looks are both so oddly satisfying to me 😂
Subscriptions: 99 Word Count: 104,104 Hits: 10,415 Graph showing top 5 by hits.
September 2, 2025 at 10:00 AM