#Bring out the beer. We’ll drink till Dawn!

[greylight32]

I’VE DONE IT!!! I DRAGGED MY IRL INTO THE DNDADS PODCAST!!!! ON THE DAY THE PODCAST WAS CREATED NO LESS!!!

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard II: Familial Ties (Part II - Chapter 6) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

Cars, pick-up trucks and SUVs were parked all along the perimeter of the massive crater, the sounds of a boisterous party emanating from the pit. Inside, locals sat on lounge chairs, drinking beers from coolers as they laughed and talked, all the while watching the centre of the crater, where large men had formed a line to take a turn with the mysterious object embedded in the ground.

One by one the men attempted to lift it, struggling before eventually giving up and stepping aside to let the next one have a go at it, as other townies stood on the sidelines and snapped pictures with their phones.

They heard an approaching rumble, then cleared a path as a large pick-up truck backed its way down the crater’s edge. An eager townie hopped out the passenger side and pulled a thick chain down from the back of the truck. He fastened one end around the foreign object, then securely affixed the chain to the bumper and rear of the undercarriage.

“This’ll do it!” he yelled to the driver. “Okay, let ‘er rip!”

The townsfolk looked on as the pick-up’s engine roared, then strained, its wheels spinning futilely, until finally the rear of the truck along with the back wheels and axels broke off and went flying.

People dove out of the way, ducking down for safety as the pick-up driver stuck his head out of the window. The elderly man – with greyed hair styled back and aviator glasses on his face – looked back, shocked. A silent moment, then the townsfolk laughed as the party recommenced.

They didn’t notice as on the crater’s edge above them an imposing government vehicle pulled up to a stop. A man in a suit climbed out and peered down at the boisterous gathering below, his eyes fixed on the object at the centre of the crater.

Agent Coulson stared down at the object, which glowed with an otherworldly blue energy – Mjolnir. He pulled out his phone.

“Sir, we’ve found it.”

✧ ✧ ✧

S.H.I.E.L.D HQ. Washington, D.C.

“Good. We’ll move in immediately,” The Director spoke into his cellphone, pacing the length of his office toward the window overlooking the city; you stood behind the sofa, clutching the backrest with a tight grip as you kept your gaze steeled on your godfather, trying to listen as closely as you could, “I want a camp set up by sundown.”

Fury lowered the phone from his ear and disconnected the call, turning around to look at you. He raised one brow as he pocketed the device. “Looks like your cousin brought a little piece of home with him,” he chided, causing you to exhale loudly, “Any idea what it could be?”

“Are you forgetting that I didn’t know shit about Asgard until last year? I have no idea how things work over there,” you sassed, pursing your lips and lifting your hands from the backrest. “My guess is as good as anybody’s. It could literally be anything.”

Choosing to ignore the subtle jabs at himself and S.H.I.E.L.D hidden in your words, Fury folded his hands behind his back and raised his head a small amount.

“If I’m not mistaken – which I never am – Doctor Ross mentioned something about a… hammer?… that Thor never goes without. You think it could be that?”

Recalling the conversation that Fury was referring to, you nodded in agreement. “Mjolnir? Yeah, could be. I mean, he definitely wasn’t lugging around a hammer when we saw him, so it’s a possibility.”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, stressfully combing your fingers through your tangled hair; you’d been so out of sorts lately that you’d even forgotten to brush the nest on your head that morning.

Picking up on your standoffish attitude, your godfather posed a question.

“What’s bugging you, sweetie?”

You’d expected that question to arise sooner or later, but your awareness didn’t dampen the arrival of it at all. Raising your brows, you slowly darted your eyes all around the room, shaking your head as you did so.

“I just…” you shrugged, “This is all too much. I can’t-“

With a small pant for air, you shut your eyes and held your head in your hands, which resulted in The Director hurrying forward to talk you down from any potential panic attacks that threatened to arise.

Letting him coax you out of your overwhelmed state, you took a seat on the sofa and rested your palms on your knees, leaning forward slightly.

“It’s been one major thing after another,” you remarked once he’d finished speaking, “My parents, Hydra, Brendon…” you trailed off, solemnly staring out of the window for a moment as your thoughts betrayed you by drifting off to your bodyguard; fortunately it only lasted a couple seconds, before you turned to face Fury, “And now this? Can’t I ever catch a break?”

“Welcome to my world,” he wheezed, placing a hand around your shoulders as he slinked into place next to you on the sofa. “But you’re strong, sweetie. One helluva survivor. You’ll make it through this – and any other pains in the ass that might come your way. But it’s no use hiding; this is something you gotta face, and you’re the only one who can do it – not for me, not for any of us, but for you.”

Your response didn’t come immediately; you allowed time for your godfather’s words to properly sink in and weave their way into your fragile mind. He was absolutely right about everything he had said, and you knew it, too. Which meant that you also knew that the first step in eradicating the problem you were faced with, was to contain it.

“We can’t let this go public, Uncle Nick,” you said carefully after a few minutes, giving him only the feeblest of glances.

“You’re telling me?” he scoffed, cocking the eyebrow above his one good eye, “Sweetie, why the hell do you think we’ve kept you a secret from everyone? Can you imagine the chaos it would cause? If the public found out that actual Norse gods were among us?”

Gently chewing on your bottom lip, you voiced your concern. “I’m afraid that there’re some people who are very close to finding out just that.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Isabela’s Diner.

Thor, Selvig, Darcy, Aaron and Jane sat at a table in the local diner; the two doctors and the intern watched as Thor ate ravenously from a huge mound of steak and eggs. A couple other full plates – pancakes and biscuits and gravy – were piled high before the god. Jane sat eagerly, her notebook at the ready.

“Now tell us exactly what happened to you last night,” she interrogated.

Thor looked up and into her eyes, staring in intrigue. Jane became flustered and looked away.

“Maybe start with how you got inside that cloud,” she tried again, this time keeping her gaze slightly lowered.

“And how you could eat an entire box of Pop-Tarts and still be this hungry,” Darcy added, marvelling at the appetite of the man. Jane shot her a withering look, whole Thor downed an entire cup of coffee in one go.

“This drink,” Thor looked at the empty mug, “I like it.”

“Yeah, it’s great, isn’t it?” Darcy grinned. “Isabela makes the best coffee in town.”

Thor hurled the mug at the ground, shattering it into a hundred tiny porcelain pieces. “Another!” he demanded.

The ruckus captured the attention of Isabela, the diner’s proprietor, and she glared at Thor from behind the counter.

Jane turned to toss her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Izzy. Little accident.”

Isabela muttered something in Spanish as a response before turning to a waitress and venting quickly, also in Spanish. (“Did you see that? The first time she brings a man in here, and he’s a lunatic!”)

“What was that?” Jane demanded, gazing expectantly at Thor.

He didn’t understand.

“It was delicious,” he stated simply. “I want another.”

“Then you should just say so!”

“I just did!”

“I mean ask for it. Nicely.”

“I meant no disrespect.”

“All right, then no more smashing, deal?”

“You have my word.”

Satisfied, Jane leaned back and nodded once. “Good.”

A few townies, looking bedraggled, entered the diner and took a seat at the counter; they were amongst the men who had tried (and failed) to lift Mjolnir out of the crater. Isabela greeted them by name, and they ordered two coffees.

“You missed all the excitement out at the crater,” the one Izzy had called Jake spoke.

“What crater?” she frowned.

Aaron, Selvig and Jane overheard Jake’s words and after exchanging a look, all turned to the townies with interest.

“They’re saying some kind of satellite crashed in the desert,” the one named Pete explained.

“We were having a good time with it till the Feds showed up, chased us out,” Jake grumbled, slurping some coffee.

“Excuse me,” Jane interjected, “Did you say there was a satellite crash?”

“Yep,” Jake nodded, “They said it was radioactive. And I had my hands all over it.” Realisation dawned on him, then, and he looked down at his hands uneasily. “I’m probably sterile now…”

Thor, unconcerned, prepared to dig into the giant pile of pancakes. Darcy was amazed by the sight and whipped out her cellphone.

“Oh my god, this is going on Facebook. Smile!”

Thor looked puzzled as she snapped a photo of him and his massive stack of food.

“What did the satellite look like?” Aaron asked the townies; Jake answered.

“I don’t know nothing about satellites. But it was heavy. Real heavy. Nobody could lift it.”

This got Thor’s attention and he immediately sprung to his feet, headed over to drunk townie Jake and jerked him around to face him.

“Where?” the god demanded.

“About twelve miles east of here,” a slightly shaky Jake replied.

Thor grinned widely, his spirits soaring, as he quickly strode out of the diner. Once outside, he studied the position of the sun, gauging his bearings. The rest of the group caught up to him moments later.

“Where are you going?” Jane asked.

“Twelve miles east of here.” Thor started to stride down the street purposefully; Jane and Aaron walked after him.

“Why?” Aaron queried, picking up his pace a little bit.

“To get what belongs to me,” Thor said determinedly.

“So now you own a satellite?” Jane scoffed, tossing him a disbelieving look.

“It’s not what they say it is.”

“Whatever it is, the government seems to think it’s theirs. You intend to just walk in there and take it?”

“Yes.” Thor stopped walking. “If you take me there now, I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”

Aaron perked up, the doctor in him coming out, and Jane did the same.

“Everything?”

“All the answers you seek will be yours, once I reclaim Mjolnir.”

Aaron sucked in a harsh breath at the mention of Mjolnir – fully aware of what Thor was talking about – as Darcy looked to the others, scrunching up her face. “’Myeu-muh?’ What’s ‘Myeu-muh’?”

Ignoring her, Jane studied Thor. He looked sincere and she was almost swayed to give into him, but then Selvig pulled her aside. Thor watched as the doctor spoke to Jane, and he could tell that Selvig didn’t care for him much.

With Darcy standing to the side and struggling with the new, Asgardian word and Jane and Selvig engaged in a heated discussion, Aaron took the opportunity to step up to the god.

“Mjolnir?” he spoke in a hushed tone, “As in your mythical hammer? It’s here?”

Thor nodded in confirmation. “It appears so.” The god narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as he observed the smaller man. “You seem to know quite a lot about Asgard, Aaron Jacobson.”

Aaron pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and waved a hand. “I specialise in Asgardian mythology.”

“So you are able to help me retrieve Mjolnir!” Thor’s face lit up.

The doctor’s face dropped, and his eyes widened in panic. “What? No, no, no, I didn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you heard what the townie said,” Aaron gestured back at the diner, “The government has already claimed it.”

“Ah, so you are a coward.”

“What?! No! I just-“

“I’m sorry,” Jane cut him off, re-joining the conversation and focusing on Thor, “I can’t take you.”

Thor bowed his head slightly. “I understand. Then this is where we say goodbye.”

He took her hand and kissed it, making her entire body flush.

“That’s…” she started, “Thank you.”

The god looked to each of the members of the group and gave each a small bow. “Jane Foster… Erik Selvig… Aaron Jacobson… Darcy. Farewell.”

He turned and headed off down the street. Selvig breathed out, relieved. “Now…” the doctor said, “lets get back to the lab. We have work to do.”

He and Darcy started for the car and after stealing once last look at the strange man, Jane turned and join them, leaving Aaron to stare at the god as he walked down the street with a worrisome face, his gut feeling telling him that things were undoubtedly about to take a turn for the worst.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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[readbookywooks]

BOMBADIL GOES BOATING

The old year was turning brown; the West Wind was calling; Tom caught a beechen leaf in the Forest falling. 'I've caught a happy day blown me by the breezes! Why wait till morrow-year? I'll take it when me pleases. This day I'll mend my boat and journey as it chances west down the withy-stream, following my fancies!' Little Bird sat on twig. 'Whillo, Tom! I heed you. I've a guess, I've a guess where your fancies lead you. Shall I go, shall I go, bring him word to meet you?' 'No names, you tell-tale, or I'll skin and eat you, babbling in every ear things that don't concern you! If you tell Willow-man where I've gone, I'll burn you, roast you on a willow-spit. That'll end your prying!' Willow-wren cocked her tail, piped as she went flying: 'Catch me first, catch me first! No names are needed. I'll perch on his hither ear: the message will be heeded. "Down by Mithe", I'll say, "just as sun is sinking" Hurry up, hurry up! That's the time for drinking!' Tom laughed to himself: 'Maybe then I'll go there. I might go by other ways, but today I'll row there.' He shaved oars, patched his boat; from hidden creek he hauled her through reed and sallow-brake, under leaning alder, then down the river went, singing: 'Silly-sallow, Flow withy-willow-stream over deep and shallow!' 'Whee! Tom Bombadil! Whither be you going, bobbing in a cockle-boat, down the river rowing?' 'Maybe to Brandywine along the Withywindle; maybe friends of mine fire for me will kindle down by the Hays-end. Little folk I know there, kind at the day's end. Now and then I go there'. 'Take word to my kin, bring me back their tidings! Tell me of diving pools and the fishes' hidings!' 'Nay then,' said Bombadil, 'I am only rowing just to smell the water like, not on errands going'. 'Tee hee! Cocky Tom! Mind your tub don't founder! Look out for willow-snags! I'd laugh to see you flounder'. 'Talk less, Fisher Blue! Keep your kindly wishes! Fly off and preen yourself with the bones of fishes! Gay lord on your bough, at home a dirty varlet living in a sloven house, though your breast be scarlet. I've heard of fisher-birds beak in air a-dangling to show how the wind is set: that's an end of angling!' The King's fisher shut his beak, winked his eye, as singing Tom passed under bough. Flash! then he went winging; dropped down jewel-blue a feather, and Tom caught it gleaming in a sun-ray: a pretty gift he thought it. He stuck it in his tall hat, the old feather casting: 'Blue now for Tom', he said, "a merry hue and lasting!' Rings swirled round his boat, he saw the bubbles quiver. Tom slapped his oar, smack! at a shadow in the river. 'Hoosh! Tom Bombadil! 'Tis long since last I met you. Turned water-boatman, eh? What if I upset you?' 'What? Why, Whisker-lad, I'd ride you down the river. My fingers on your back would set your hide a-shiver.' 'Pish, Tom Bombadil! I'll go and tell my mother; "Call all our kin to come, father, sister, brother! Tom's gone mad as a coot with wooden legs: he's paddling down Withywindle stream, an old tub a-straddling!"' 'I'll give your otter-fell to Barrow-wights. They'll taw you! Then smother you in gold-rings! Your mother if she saw you, she'd never know her son, unless 'twas by a whisker. Nay, don't tease old Tom, until you be far brisker!' 'Whoosh! said otter-lad, river-water spraying over Tom's hat and all; set the boat a-swaying, dived down under it, and by the bank lay peering, till Tom's merry song faded out of hearing. Old Swan of Elvet-isle sailed past him proudly, gave Tom a black look, snorted at him loudly. Tom laughed: 'You old cob, do you miss your feather? Give me a new one then! The old was worn by weather. Could you speak a fair word, I would love you dearer: long neck and dumb throat, but still a haughty sneerer! If one day the King returns, in upping he may take you, brand your yellow bill, and less lordly make you!' Old Swan huffed his wings, hissed, and paddled faster; in his wake bobbing on Tom went rowing after. Tom came to Withy-weir. Down the river rushing foamed into Windle-reach, a-bubbling and a-splashing; bore Tom over stone spinning like a windfall, bobbing like a bottle-cork, to the hythe at Grindwall. Hoy! Here's Woodman Tom with his bill��-beard on!' laughed all the little folk of Hays-end and Breredon. 'Ware, Tom' We'll shoot you dead with our bows and arrows' We don't let Forest-folk nor bogies from the Barrows cross over Brandywine by cockle-boat nor ferry'. 'Fie, little fatbellies! Don't ye make so merry! I've seen hobbit-folk digging holes to hide 'em, frightened if a horny goat or a badger eyed 'em, afeared of the moony-beams, their own shadows shunning. I'll call the orks on you: that'll send you running!' 'You may call, Woodman Tom. And you can talk your beard off. Three arrows in your hat! You we're not afeared of! Where would you go to now? If for beer you're making, the barrels aint deep enough in Breredon for your slaking!' 'Away over Brandywine by Shirebourn I'd be going, but too swift for cockle-boat (he river now is flowing. I'd bless little folk that took me in their wherry, wish them evenings fair and many mornings merry'. Red flowed the Brandywine: with flame the river kindled. as sun sank beyond the Shire, and then to grey it dwindled. Mithe Steps empty stood. None was there to greet him. Silent the Causeway lay. Said Tom: 'A merry meeting!' Tom slumped along the road, as the light was failing. Rushey lamps gleamed ahead. He heard a voice him hailing. 'Whoa there!' Ponies stopped, wheels halted sliding. Tom went plodding past. never looked beside him. 'Ho there! beggarman tramping in the Marish! What's your business here? Hat all stuck with arrows! Someone's warned you off, caught you at your sneaking? Come here! Tell me now what it is you're seeking! Shire-ale. I'll be bound, though you've not a penny. I'll bid them lock their doors, and then you won't get any'' 'Well, well. Muddy-feet! From one that's late for meeting away back by the Mithe that's a surly greeting! You old farmer fat that cannot walk for wheezing, cart-drawn like a sack, ought to be more pleasing. Penny-wise tub-on-legs! A beggar can't be chooser, or else I'd bid you go, and you would be the loser. Come, Maggot! Help me up! A tankard now you owe me. Even in cockshut light an old friend should know me!' Laughing they drove away, in Rushey never halting, though the inn open stood and they could smell the mailing. They turned down Maggot's Lane, rattling and bumping, Tom in the farmer's cart dancing round and jumping. Stars shone on Bamfurlong, and Maggot's house was lighted; fire in the kitchen burned to welcome the benighted. Maggot's sons bowed at door, his daughters did their curtsy, his wife brought tankards out for those that might be thirsty. Songs they had and merry tales the supping and the dancing; Goodman Maggot there for all his belt was prancing, Tom did a hornpipe when he was not quaffing, daughters did the Springle-ring, goodwife did the laughing. When others went to bed in hay, fern, or feather, close in the inglenook they laid their heads together, old Tom and Muddy-feet, swapping all the tidings from Barrow-downs to Tower Hills: of walkings and of ridings; of wheat-ear and barley-corn, of sowing and of reaping; queer tales from Bree, and talk at smithy, mill, and cheaping; rumours in whispering trees, south-wind in the larches, tall Watchers by the Ford, Shadows on the marches. Old Maggot slept at last in chair beside the embers. Ere dawn Tom was gone: as dreams one half remembers, some merry, some sad, and some of hidden warning. None heard the door unlocked; a shower of rain at morning his footprints washed away, at Mithe he left no traces, at Hays-end they heard no song nor sound of heavy paces. Three days his boat lay by the hythe at Grindwall, and then one mom was gone back up Withywindle. Otter-folk, hobbits said, came by night and loosed her, dragged her over weir, and up stream they pushed her. Out from Elvet-isle Old Swan came sailing, in beak took her painter up in the water trailing, drew her proudly on; otters swam beside her round old Willow-man's crooked roots to guide her; the King's fisher perched on bow, on thwart the wren was singing, merrily the cockle-boat homeward they were bringing. To Tom's creek they came at last. Otter-lad said: 'Whish now! What's a coot without his legs, or a unless fish now?' O! silly-sallow-willow-stream! The oars they'd left behind them! Long they lay at Grindwall hythe for Tom to come and find them.