heimdall-of-surtur

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Sounds suspiciously like Big Necromancy talkin’ here....

[heimdall-of-surtur]

ooc

I am ... tired.   Food doesn't seem to help; sleep hardly seems to make a dent (but I freaking fall asleep doing almost anything at home).  Climbing stairs takes real effort.  I feel like I'm about twenty years older than I actually am.Had both shots.   No idea what the hell this is, but whatever it is, it is dragging me.   Going to get a covid test just in case I'm one of those unlucky ones who somehow managed to get a breakthrough case, but if that's not it, either it's the most enduring (not worst, just longest lasting) case of food poisoning ever or it's I have no damn idea.Ugh.   And then some more. So I may be *even slower* than normal replying while I try and fight whatever the hell this is.

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Heimdall regarded the weapon as it was extended to him.  “You bled for this weapon. You put your very life into its creation. It knows you as much as you know it.�� In a very real sense you were imprinted upon the very pattern of its creation, my king.  I do not know if the weapon will permit me to wield it as anything more than any other axe.”

heimdall-of-surtur​:

“She yet endures. For how long this shall continue; that is the future, and you know my gaze does not pierce that veil.” His gaze remained steady upon the countenance of the Odinson.  He was pulling himself from the darkness, but Heimdall knew how easily one could fall back into it, especially when one was… rudderless. Adrift. Cast from one’s moorings without the tools to navigate. After all, the destruction of the Bifrost - and later the physical Asgard - had left him moorless for a time. He, too, had had to find new purpose, new cause. New motivation. He would not leave his friend to face that twisting darkness alone.  “Now, having addressed the past, the matter comes to the now. Have you a plan?”

So, she was alive. That was good to know. “I take it she’s heading to Midgard, then?” He looked up at the sky, hoping to see her ship and the escape pods that managed to flee the attack. Thor had been found by the Guardians of the Galaxy while drifting in space as good as a corpse, travelled to Nidavellir where he had forged an axe and used said axe to chop off the Titan’s head. Revenge didn’t bring him the joy he hoped to experience, but at least Thanos wouldn’t victimize anyone else. “This one will suit you well,” Thor handed Stormbreaker to Heimdall, “to replace Hofund. It has the power of the Bifrost imbedded in it. We’ll need in New Asgard.” Thor was reminded of his Father’s words to him before he passed: that Asgard was a people, not a place, that Asgard could be here. And by here he meant Norway, a land that still worshipped his people like Gods, but it could be anywhere that would accept their refugee people, a group of lost immigrants. “I will build a new home for all of us.”

[heimdall-of-surtur]

“It was rather your phrasing - “I came to the Ironwood” that suggested that you had dwelt elsewhere prior,” he corrected mildly, “and that calling a place home does not imply that it has always been one’s place.”

heimdall-of-surtur​:

“The bones suggest some have hunted without them - or even tried to hunt them,” he replied coolly.  “But I do not come to hunt,” he reiterated.  “Might I ask where your home was before the Ironwood?”

“You may, but you’ll be rather disappointed. The Ironwood is the only place I have ever called home,” she responded wryly. “Who exactly do you think I’m related to that you’d ask such a thing?”

[heimdall-of-surtur]

ooc

Well it was nice while it lasted. Never question the authority kiddos.

[heimdall-of-surtur]

“The bones suggest some have hunted without them - or even tried to hunt them,” he replied coolly.  “But I do not come to hunt,” he reiterated.  “Might I ask where your home was before the Ironwood?”

heimdall-of-surtur​:

“Very few would come here at all,” he replied evenly, “so that makes the matter of  likelyhood of reasons rather … suspect.  As to the other matter?  Your actions are your own.  I do not bear their weight, any more than you bear the weight of mine.” “What is it of this place that calls to you so strongly,” he inquired even as his gaze swept the surroindings, taking in the thousandfold tiny details of each plant, tree, every patch of lichen; all the tiny scents and sounds that wove through, between and around them.  “even now, one of your power could surely claim nearly any place in the realm to abide in, so it clearly is not a matter of being impelled to remain.”

“That they are,” she nodded, pausing to consider the question he asked of her. It wasn’t an odd one but none had bothered to ask her it before. “The Ironwood is my home, has been for a very long time. Laufey and Odin may both have had a desire for conquest but it has never been something that called to me, I am happy simply for me and mine to be left alone. My power won that for them; I didn’t threaten Laufey’s throne he didn’t interfere here, me and my children stay out of the wars and Asgard’s forces avoid my home when inevitably another bout of fighting starts.”

“Besides,” she looked out into the woods, her face softening slightly as she caught glimpses of wolves running through it, “it is the way of things that men hunt wolves out of fear or want for their fur, but no man hunts in the Ironwood lest he is hunting with wolves.”

[heimdall-of-surtur]

“Now, of all times, you come seeking instruction,” the ebon giant replied with a faint snort.

{Open: Loki}

“There’s a fireplace, some tea, I have a knife in my hand, and I’m feeling horny. You tell me what happens from here.”

[heimdall-of-surtur]

I mean, noone else can do it for you. Only you can let it in.

the temptation every time there’s heavy rainfall to just go out on the street and

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Good gods, vampire.  You need to learn to handle your *food* better.  You’re like a toddler, getting it all over everything and almost none of it inside of you.  Do we have to get you a bib?

Photography by Nona Limmen.

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Sadly, England doesn’t have to be real to be powerful.

Its weird for me to think that dolphins existed at the same time as queens and knights and shit like that. I feel like dolphins were invented in the 80s by crystal shops to sell porcelain statues to divorced women

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Hell, this certainly worked for me waaaay back in the day.

Okay.. so suppose you’re a fanfiction writer….

And I’m a fan of your stories…

would it be alright to bribe you with a fanart that i made,

so I can read the next chapter? 

:) just asking…. but srsly tho… can you bribe a fanfiction writer with fanart of their stories?

[heimdall-of-surtur]

This whole thing was a ... post cursor

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Reblog if you stick with an RPer even through their hiatus.

[heimdall-of-surtur]

Reblog if youre bored and you want anons.

[heimdall-of-surtur]

reposted from : Han Koehle 02/26/2020

  · Therapy is not meant to replace intimate, giving friendships. Please stop telling people that asking for emotional support or time or energy from their friends and family is exploitation.The people who come to therapy with the belief that we are the only people they are allowed to have needs with are dying, and the first thing we tell them to do, sometimes on the spot, is to ask their friends and family to support them by being honest about how bad things are.It is a deathwish to try to make yourself a thing without needs. You are not a thing. You are a person. You have an inherent, beautiful, holy, nonnegotiable need for other humans. Your emotional needs cannot be reduced to a half hour once a week or once a month or even once a day. Your emotional needs are constant. Not because you are weak or frail or needy or attention-seeking but because you are alive.Stay alive, beloved, and do not resent your alive friends. It is okay if you cannot meet the need right now. It is okay if you do not wish to meet the needs of this particular person, for any number of reasons.But beloveds, it is not okay to tell people that they may only need in exchange for money. Even if everyone had the money to do so, there are not enough feelings professionals in the world to meet everyone's emotional needs in the medium of therapy, and even if there were enough time, therapy is not a friendship. We are not allowed to love our patients in all the ways that they need to be loved.It is proper and good for you to need to cry with someone who loves you. It is proper and good for you to need to be held, to need to be cooked for, to need to be heard, to need advice. Only small parts of this could ever be accomplished by a therapist in exchange for money.Resist the capitalist curse that says you do not deserve to be alive if you cannot pay for it. And for the love of all good and living things, resist the lie that this curse is the real liberation.

[heimdall-of-surtur]

“Very few would come here at all,” he replied evenly, “so that makes the matter of  likelyhood of reasons rather ... suspect.  As to the other matter?  Your actions are your own.  I do not bear their weight, any more than you bear the weight of mine.” “What is it of this place that calls to you so strongly,” he inquired even as his gaze swept the surroindings, taking in the thousandfold tiny details of each plant, tree, every patch of lichen; all the tiny scents and sounds that wove through, between and around them.  “even now, one of your power could surely claim nearly any place in the realm to abide in, so it clearly is not a matter of being impelled to remain.”

heimdall-of-surtur​:

“I would not presume to know the Allfather’s desires,” the ebon giant replied calmly.  “And while I am certain he is aware of my presence here, that is not the same as having impelled that presence.”  He let his hands hang freely at his sides; grasping neither the fullblade nor its companion; he could draw them suddenly should events turn sour, but felt no need to establish hostile intent at this time.   “I came as I come to most places; to gain a sense of them.  Impressions beyond the visual. To, inasmuch as one can, understand them.  And,” he rumbled, pausing only a moment to let his gold hued eyes fall upon her, “it may be that we share more in common than might first be apparent.  It is … respectful .. to pay one’s respects to one’s relations … however distant.”

“Very few people would come here for such simple reasons,”  crimson eyes studied him for a moment. “Fewer still would admit to having even distant ties to me, for to admit such a thing is to admit to also having ties to those I brought into the world.”

She does not relax at all, though she made no move to do anything hostile. He was a visitor to her wood and she was not one to be unhospitable. Asgard was no more an enemy to the Ironwood than anywhere else was, and she had allowed them in before.

“I will trust, for now, that your word is true. If there is some nefarious thing your king has tasked you with doing here you will pay the price for it and your deception Heimdall,” she warned, her voice nearly as cold as the realm they stood in, “however so long as there isn’t you won’t find yourself hunted by my descendants while you’re here.”

[heimdall-of-surtur]

“She yet endures.  For how long this shall continue; that is the future, and you know my gaze does not pierce that veil.” His gaze remained steady upon the countenance of the Odinson.  He was pulling himself from the darkness, but Heimdall knew how easily one could fall back into it, especially when one was ... rudderless.   Adrift.  Cast from one’s moorings without the tools to navigate.  After all, the destruction of the Bifrost - and later the physical Asgard - had left him moorless for a time.  He, too, had had to find new purpose, new cause.  New motivation. He would not leave his friend to face that twisting darkness alone.  “Now, having addressed the past, the matter comes to the now.  Have you a plan?”

heimdall-of-surtur​:

The ebon giant set his left hand on Thor’s shoulder, gripped firmly but not painfully.   “Cursed,” he inquired mildly.  “Would that life were so simple.  And yet, here you are, Asgardian.   Buckling under the weight of the darkness without.  Is it a curse to live longer than your peers?  Or a greater one to die before them, and leave to them the same struggle you rail against?” His golden eyes regarded Thor; and it seemed there was a fire that danced in them.  “Do you suppose even your father would have fared better against the Mad Titan’s plan? Or your brother - or even your long bound sister?  Do you think any one of them would have somehow; whether through wisdom, or guide, or sheer lethality - would have come to any better outcome?” He shook his head slowly side to side; squeezed Thor’s shoulder once more.  “Nor I.  The future is not ours to know.  You do what you can.  If you are fortunate, you have the opportunity to rectify the problems that arise from even the wisest choices.” “But to fall into inaction, melancholia and despair … you might as well be dead, if you will let that trio be your guide.  For then nothing will have meaning, no purpose will suit.  You will hollow yourself out to quell the pain in your breast; forfeit joy and wonder - and the dulled pain will still come through; scraping you out like a gourd, devouring everything.  You will lose the good things in life in attempt to avoid the ill. “You would maul yourself, hang on a crossbeam as “the worst king of Asgard.”  Number two in a field of … two.   Look to this realm   Learn of its history.  I assure you, there are mortal kings of kingdoms of Midgard who have done worse by their own than you.  Do you suppose Thyrm of Jotunheim a better king than you?   Malekith a better king?   Do you suppose *any* who sat the throne after your father would have done better? “It is a strange sort of pride to deem yourself the worst, to boldly declare that none have ever done so poorly.  That none would have done so poorly.” “You would make for your people a new place to live, a new home.  After the series of disasters they have borne, you would make amends for what they have lost.  Give them back pride.  Give them back hope. “And this makes you the worst king of Asgard, then?  It is not the events you cannot control that determine your worth as a king.  It is what you do with them, and it is what you do after them.  And what you do the next day, the next week, the next year.  And if your words be true, and your acts demonstrate that truth, then you will be a fine king and a fine man.” “You say you were not meant for the role of king.  And it was true.  You understood little of the true burden of kingship, and less of its *purpose*.  But your eyes are opening - and with your eyes open you may yet *become* a worthy king.  One capable of bearing that weight for the many who cannot, would not, or should not.”

Taking a deep breath, Thor steadied his heartbeat and his focus. The rain above them subsided then ceased and the sun shone on them shyly, dark clouds dissipating. 

Thor was done grieving, it would never take him anywhere, but he needed to vent all of his pent up frustration, sadness, regret and guilt. He felt a bit better, and he suspected it had to do with Heimdall’s wise words.

“I,” he started, confused and uncertain, “I suppose I didn’t consider it on that perspective.” A series of misfortunes had happened to the asgardian people - and to Thor - before they were ultimately attacked by Thanos. They were already weakened, and attacking a crew made mostly of children, women and civizilians was the lowest act of cowardice.

Thor wasn’t on his prime back then, either, he still wasn’t, and Heimdall knew that. The loss of his eye and of his hammer left him lost. He was still trying to reconnect to himself, but he hadn’t been able to fight in the way he usually did while sustaining that many injuries. More tears sprung to his eye.

“He knew we were vulnerable when he attacked.” Thor nodded, drying his tears with his thumb this time. Anger was replaced by sadness and he’d rather be angry right now.

Huffing, a hint of a smile forming on his lips, Thor shook his head, “Thrym couldn’t tell the difference between Lady Freya and a badly disguised Prince,” he remembered fondly.

“I will have to believe you then, Heimdall,” Thor still thought that if he was wiser, stronger, had two eyes and a hammer, he could have defeated Thanos. But, what of his Dark Order? They were outnumbered and that wasn’t an even field nor a fair opponent. All they did was take.

“Thank you, my friend,” the tight knot in Thor’s throat was dissipating. He was sure he’d still mourn for everything he had lost, but there was something worth fighting for. There was hope, even if just one asgardian was left standing.

“Tell me, Heimdall, do your all-seeing eyes see where Valkyrie is? She lead the survivors of the Stateman with her under my command. I hope they followed the right directions and are heading to Midgard.”