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Circe Beaker didn't like planners: she found them impractical, either too big to carry around, or too small to write on them comfortably. Instead, each year she would search for the nicest calendar - something with pictures of natural landscapes, famous paintings, historical images. Simple designs, but pretty enough to look at when checking her appointments for the day. She was pretty excited, when she moved in with her husband, about sharing this little piece of everyday life with him.
Two months after their wedding, Circe decided that she and Loki would have separate calendars.
Her husband had the terrible, terrible habit of writing in huge, bold letters, and his notes would take several days across the calendar, making it difficult to write anything else; not to mention, he would add a long and useless commentary, which only made the whole thing more unnerving. At first, Circe tolerated it, making her already minute handwriting even smaller, both to fit her own engagements, and to set a good example for her husband. But it seemed like Loki didn’t get it - or maybe he simply enjoyed bothering her to no ends? Whatever the reason, one day she simply bought a new calendar just for him and hanged it next to hers, knowing he would finally get the message.
He didn’t comment, but started writing on it from then on; and so, every year, Circe would go out, get her new, pretty calendar, and after that, she would get the ugliest one she could find for Loki. He looked overjoyed every time she handed them to him.
Of course, having separate schedules meant that more often than not she didn’t know what her husband was up to, mostly because she didn’t care much for what Loki did with his spare time. Yet in the days leading up to Valentine’s Day she noticed an annotation with her name in it a couple of times, but never had the time to stop and read it.
She only remembered about it on Tuesday, February 14, coming home after a long shift at the hospital: she arrived at the castle around 4:40 pm, went straight to the kitchen to get something to eat and decided to take a look at what Loki wrote about her. She froze in place, the sandwich in her hands untouched.
On the note for February 14 she read, ‘4pm - tattoo studio - Circe’s present For Valentine’s Day!!!! I really hope she will like it, I’ve worked on this for months!!!’. The whole message circled three times. Many more exclamation points than she could bear. Now, Circe didn’t like surprises, and Loki knew that; also, her husband could be secretive if he cared to be. So it was clear to her that first, his habit had gotten worse, and second, he wanted her to see the message. But she had been so busy and tired all week, and now Circe wished she hadn’t been too distracted to notice her husband had lost his mind.
Usually Circe accepted and tolerated her husband’s eccentric behavior, but a tattoo was something she didn’t expect. She thought Loki would prepare for them one of his… special dinners to endure, maybe a movie, maybe some experiment to perform on the subject together… But a tattoo - of all things - wasn’t a thing that fit his mad scientist persona, and was, quite honestly, a pretty tacky gift idea in Circe’s opinion, something she couldn’t get over so easily.
She let her stare wander across the calendar and, right above, she saw a note that started on February 1st and went on diagonally, crossing half of Wednesday 8 and almost covering that day’s note. She read, all caps: ‘TIME TO GIVE VIDCUND AN ASS-BEATING!!! THAT IDIOT, HE HAS TO STOP BOTHERING MY BEAUTIFUL, AMAZING, PERFECT WIFE!!!! I SWEAR IF HE DOESN’T STOP -’ and a series of curses, to complete the message. The ink of the writing was black, but around Loki had drawn a couple of red crosses and a small portrait of his face looking angrily at the note, which she found a little bit cute.
Circe remembered that on the 2nd they had dinner together, and Loki mentioned to her that he built what he described as a ‘very menacing machine’. From the way he talked about it, it actually seemed to be a small robot toy of a donkey that was being hit rhythmically by a plastic stick, with a small card attached that read ‘STTOP SENDING LETERS TOO MY WyFE’. The spelling mistakes, Loki said, were there to ensure Vidcund wouldn’t suspect of him. She found the whole idea ridiculous for many and obvious reasons and didn’t think twice before telling him.
And yet the next day she received Love Letter number 465.633 from Vidcund, where he explained that, while he wouldn’t cease the correspondence, the letters would become more sporadic from that point on as he received some ‘concerning threats’ from an ‘unknown character’, and was worried for his own well-being. She archived the letter in a folder, labeled ‘Mildly Amusing Things My Husband Did’.
Ah, she got distracted. Circe considered herself a practical, collected woman, who always knew what to do, even in the most unexpected circumstances; and yet, for how much she thought about it, she couldn’t understand what was going on in Loki’s head, and she went from being mildly annoyed to seriously concerned.
She wanted to stop him, but it was already too late: almost an hour had passed, if she went and took him home now, Loki would have a botched picture on him for the rest of his life, and Circe would have to live with that. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea that her husband could do something that tasteless and gaudy, a tattoo for her specifically. What was he even getting tattooed? Her initials? Her name? Maybe including her middle and maiden names as well. Maybe he went for a portrait of her face on his chest; maybe a life-size replica of her body all across his back, he was one for extreme gestures after all. Still, she struggled to imagine him do something like that, something so… cheap .
The only thing left to do was prepare the divorce papers, since their marriage was such a joke to him.
She sat down at the table, head in her hands. As she kept on imagining scenarios - Loki with Circe written over and over on his skin; Loki getting tattooed a picture of the two of them, their portraits a caricature; Loki getting tattooed on his back a lettering that read “PROPERTY OF CIRCE BEAKER SEND BACK TO HER IF FOUND” - she heard the sound of footsteps approaching from outside. «My love, I’m back!» someone said.
«Loki!» Circe called out, her voice distressed, while a deep feeling of dread she’d never thought she’d experience took over her.
Loki reached the kitchen and stood before his wife; she expected him to have his face covered with her name, but was relieved to see his usual self smiling at her. He scratched his goatee. «Did you read the note I left on my calend-?»
«Of course I did, what the hell Loki? How could you do something so stupid, ugly, wasting our Simoleons like this? I can’t believe -» Circe stopped for a moment, looking at her husband, her voice almost whiny. «Please tell me there’s a way to remove it, tell me it’s not permanent, tell me something, anything, Loki this is really the worst thing you could - why are you laughing,» she said, looking in disbelief as her husband chuckled a bit, his eyes forming crescent moons. «Loki, I’m so mad right now, tell me what’s so funny about this or I’ll kill you».
Loki laughed some more. «I knew you would get the wrong idea - well, it was my intention from the start, so it is understandable, but the look on your face… I didn’t think it would rile you up this much». Then he turned over to the main entrance, and called: «Nervous! Come here!».
The subject? Circe hadn’t noticed he wasn’t at home when she got back, thinking he was in his room.
Nervous came in the kitchen, his posture more curved than usual, a disgruntled look on his face. He stopped next to Loki and turned so he was facing her, as Circe stared puzzled between her husband and the subject, trying to piece together what was happening.
«Come on, Nervous, show her!» Loki said, and the young man straightened himself, not before letting out a long, exasperated sigh; Circe was even more confused by then, but finally Nervous lifted his shirt.
Across his chest, he had a huge outline of a heart, and inside the letters ‘LB + CS’. An arrow came from one side, and out of the other.
«What do you think?» Loki asked, a huge smile on his face. Circe looked at him, silent.
«So you didn’t get a tattoo».
«I didn’t get a tattoo» Loki answered, still smiling, and Circe let out a breath of relief.
«Thank Watcher».
Loki got closer, and extended a hand to her; reluctantly, Circe took it, and Loki pulled her up in a hug which she awkwardly reciprocated, giving a couple of pats.
Nervous sighed again, looking at the scene. «Can I go now?» he asked, his voice monotone. Loki dipped Circe, with a small yelp from her.
«Yes» the two scientists said in unison, looking at each other in the eyes, and Nervous went to his room, dragging his feet.
«So - did you like my present?» Loki asked her. Circe’s face was inexpressive, but she didn’t feel that mad anymore.
«It’s ridiculous» she answered, her tone amused. Loki smiled at her.
«And?»
«And I enjoyed it, yeah. If only for Nervous’ wince when he had to pull up his shirt».
«Haha, that was all for display. They didn’t let me use the tattoo gun at the parlour, so I had to settle for henna».
Circe laughed at that, and then kissed him, making a mental note to update the folder.
«What a shame».