#Husk being a few decades older than him (and I do not care about how time works in hell before you ask) is actually fine

[legallydistinctloolooland]

hearing any defense of the huskerdust age gap (as if it needs one) that doesn't start and end with “Angel is, by every metric under the sun, an adult who can make his own decisions” is fucking insane to me. You do not need to pull out a timeline. No math required. He is in his thirties. Fuck, I am younger than him by a considerable amount, and if I could be bothered to get out of my pyjamas and go cruise at the local septuagenarian biker bar, all things made equal, I would be fucking fine. Me and this hypothetical grandpa trick would be equally consenting adults.

It is just a bit frustrating to see this line of argument in EITHER direction, from people who think that a ~thirty years old cannot possibly want GILF pussy or that think you need to corkboard mathletes a way around the age gap by saying “well actually they're around the same age if you [blah blah blah]”. There are things that are actually fucked up about them that we COULD be talking about instead of putting Seattle on blast with this “how could a seventy year old man ethically start a relationship with another fully grown adult, both of whom are trying to make meaningful connections in their lives, beyond their work?”

Please keep in mind, none of this is that serious. This is, at the end of the day, a very silly discourse, and this is, at the end of the day, a very silly reaction. I wish the septuagenarian biker bar thing was serious, but alas. I live in a boring area.

[cyclicalaberration]

Unrecorded Histories

Eret is a historian. The server changes so fast that events get forgotten in less than two months sometimes, so trying to preserve it was crucial. Historians are few and far between nowadays, griefing and abandonment and time decaying all documents.

They have only known one other, but he is highly specialized, knowing more about the wastelands of 2B2T than any has cared to know in decades, as the warzone was under constant change.

Recording history is hard on many servers, but it feels that the SMP is harder to record than most. Few people remember more than a decade back, and most information is lost faster than that with the amount of times old builds have been griefed. Eret has been around a long time, and they are still learning new things.

It’s ironic that the one dedicated to preserving history cannot remember their own.

They remember a city of four, they remember white eyes. They remember the smell of spruce wood, coal dust and ozone. They remember the squelch of netherrack, redstone particles, gold. They have always hidden their eyes. They didn’t use to hide their eyes. Conflicting accounts. They remember thunderstorms.

They remember being loved, they remember dancing. They remember singing, and spinning, and laughing. They do not remember more from before the SMP.

They have no problem remembering the smp, the horrors, the hurt. They have no problem remembering the torment. They do not remember the life they led before.

They sit upon the pedestal in their castle, staring as the redstone particles dance. They and Foolish have been searching for weeks, to no avail. They don’t remember. The netherrack is warm beneath them, and it pulses every once in a while. They don’t remember. They don’t even know what they are.

Their glasses sit in front of them. They stare at their reflection, blank white eyes staring back at them. Nobody reacts well to their eyes, only Foolish. Decay creeps up their fingers again, the withering lingering as their hands, their cheekbones, their chest, burn. They have never died to a wither, but they have the lingering effects of one who’s withered a thousand times over. Their joints creak and they massage their hands.

They don’t even know what they are. A hybrid, certainly, but they don’t know what their other half is.

“Okay, now he’s just Herobrine,” echoes through their head, Philza’s first reaction upon seeing their eyes. They can’t shake that name.

They shove their glasses on their face with shaky hands, gloves hiding their ashen fingertips, and clip their cape on, gold clasp gleaming with the crest of their kingdom, a kingdom near dissolved. Their crown sits unworn. They don’t need it where they’re going.

“Eret! Old pal! What brings you to my temple?” Foolish drops the sandstone he was moving, turning to face them, rows of teeth betraying nothing but excitement, emerald eyes shining. The gold beacon on his pyramid spins, and Eret takes a deep breath.

“Hey Foolish.” Foolish’s face falls, and he shrinks down so they’re the same height,

“The withering bothering you again?” Eret nods. There was no point in denying it, the ash was creeping out from under their glasses. They massage their hands again, ignoring the burning in the middle of their chest, the pain where their glasses press on the withering skin, but that wasn’t why they’re here.

“That’s not why I’m here. I just-.” They flinch as another bolt of pain shoots through them, but this time it doesn’t fade. Their face burns and itches and screams in agony, and when it pulses again, they bite their tongue so hard it bleeds, the taste of iron filling their mouth. They’re blind with pain. Their eyes burn, their face burns, their hands burn. They try and speak and they start to cough, each cough sending more pain shooting through their body.

They are sitting down when they can think again. They don’t know when that happened. They can see again shortly after, unimpeded by sunglasses. Foolish is crouched in front of them.

“Old pal, that isn’t phantom pain! That’s active withering! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Withering- usually isn’t that bad.”

“Withering- Withering has a lot of long term consequences! In most mortals, repeated withering can cause cataracts, loss of joint function, temporary paralysis, night terrors, insomnia- Eret, how many withers have you fought recently?”

“I don’t remember- twelve? Maybe? Twelve I’ve used for beacons.” Foolish’s jaw goes slack, and another, smaller, spasm of pain shoots through them.

“Have you properly- of course you haven’t. Foolish, foolish, of course they were gonna be rediscovered-”

“What are you talking about?” Eret looks up at him, trying to climb to their feet on shaking legs. Foolish offers them a hand and they take it, leaning on him.

“Remember when I mentioned the wither cult? We tried to stop it from happening again, destroyed all information we could get our hands on. We were young and stupid, and of course it’d be rediscovered in this area. Lets see if I have the stuff to take care of this-” Foolish’s hand hovers just over Eret’s ashy cheek, just under their eyes- “You just stay here, I have to look for my supplies.” Foolish helps them to sit on the tail of his snake statue, and starts to dig through his chests, muttering quietly.

“There’s not much I can do to keep it away until the withering retreats, but this should make it hurt less, and send it away faster.” Foolish pulls out a tube of what looks like homemade burn cream, but darker, and wipes it over their face, letting them massage it into their hands. “Is there any other decay I should know about?”

Eret nods, dropping their cape and gesturing towards their back. Foolish hisses.

“How long?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Drink this.” He hands them an instant health potion, and then a glass of milk. “Can I help you with this?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, you really outdid yourself old pal. I thought you might’ve learned your lesson, but you really haven’t changed that much.”

Eret smiles, and Foolish stands up and steps back, handing them back their cape. “I have another potion after this, but until the decay decreases, I don’t think there’s much more we can do. So let’s get to the bottom of this memory loss then.”

--

Herobrine is a god. He is a god with empty eyes. He is a god who floats. He is a god who builds. He is a god of fear. He is older than the nether. He saw wither skeletons with their flesh still tied to their charred bones. He saw the river that flowed through the soulsand valleys. He saw the nether in its prime. He is older than Prime. He is older than XD.

He strips trees of their leaves, leaving them twisting, skeletal husks in the dead of summer. He is a mischievous god, a vindictive god, an evil god, a god of chaos. He saw the monuments when they still saw the sun, unflooded and unguarded, still worshipped at. He saw the temples worshipped at, he saw the mine shafts dug. He saw the fortresses built, the strongholds the last ditch effort to avoid the devastation.

He is older than the end.

He is old, and he got bored. And boredom makes gods antsy, makes them stressed, makes them bored. Bored gods are dangerous gods. And Herobrine had been bored for centuries. So it was to be expected that upon his first contact with another being, he caused mischief. He was a bit vindictive, perhaps.

But Steve grew used to him, and Alex grew exasperated, and he grew fond of the adventurers. He couldn’t scare them any longer, and eventually they grew fond of him as well.

Eventually, in their travels, they set up a base. And he built. Alex and Steve would hunt, farm, explore, mine, but he would build. He built cities, villages. And sometimes, sometimes he would strip forests of their leaves, but only if he was extremely, extremely bored.

Finding a child in the nether was the strangest event in a few centuries, but that didn’t say much. Finding a godling was.

He named it Eret. Alex was confused, Steve was adoring, Herobrine would die for them.

Eret grew slowly, as godlings tend to do. They were smart, and fast, and at some point they set out, exploring new areas of the world, and they returned, a totem of death in tow. Eret and Foolish, as he had been named, were close. They were ever so close, and ever so chaotic. Herobrine laughed, when the angel of Death visited to tell him that his kid was interfering with the Blood God’s business.

Alex was less amused. Steve found the whole thing rather endearing.

Eret was home for a while, telling them about a time traveller they met, when they were summoned. They were there, and then they were not, and he had no idea where they went. Steve said they’d be fine, Alex sent out letters to everyone they could think of, and Herobrine sent a letter to Foolish.

Foolish sent him back a letter, saying they were fine, saying they were alive, in a land of XD’s making, a land where he had no power. He didn’t know it would affect their memory.

--

Eret shakes their head, the sand hot against their skin, in shock.

“I- I don’t remember. I’m so sorry, Foolish.”

“You will. In time, you will, I promise. We will figure this out together, old pal, on my word, I will help you. And if you don’t remember, we’ll make new ones. Now,” Foolish slides a disc into his jukebox and bows to them, extending one hand. “Let’s start here. May I have this dance?”

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Bitter Bonds: 1} Frozen Hel

Masterlist

Bitter Bonds Masterlist

Loki Laufeyson X Plus Size Reader

Words: +2,400

Warnings: Torture, Panic

A/N: This came to me after reading @wickednerdery writings and for referring me to read @endlessstairway‘s story, Butterfly! I’m not doing a tie in to their writings but wanted to give them credit for the idea that shit all over my laptop! What all has befallen Loki in the 8 years since he has been under his brother Helblendi’s rule? This is the first interaction between Loki and reader.

Jotunheim, by the Norns she despised this place, the cold, even though her late husband was of this realm it didn’t mean she had to like it, just tolerate it and Helblendi’ need to have the trade agreements gone over, yet again but this time in person. It made her think he just hated having very little others to speak to about these matters. The guard, her guard, 6 berserkers, stayed close as they stepped to the palace gates which looked rebuilt thanks to another peace that had come about with Asgard, the cask granted back and from what she gathered given the traitor Loki as a payment of sorts.

Honestly she wouldn’t know if the gates were rebuilt, she was guessing since it seemed there wasn’t as thick a layer of ice on them as they would have been. Y/N  hadn’t visited in a decade or so, having done all from her side as they called it, her place on Midgard, Helblendi was the one to come to her realm under his disguise as Aesir. They had to be careful with travel between realms due to the Avengers and SHIELD, normally they spoke through projections when it wasn’t feasible for the giant to visit.

Finally stepping out of the biting winds and snow into the palace, the 4 frost giant guards bowing to the heavily bundled woman the only wolf pelt in the sea of bear pelts, they knew better than to anger this queen. One of the giants hinting to her to follow him down the corridor the group following along behind the wolf pelt who was keeping stride with the giant. The loud billowing from the throne room catching their attention as the guard opened the door for them to enter, eyes falling on the throne where Helblendi sat like a bastard, with a slave, a Aesir skinned one next to the throne looking calm but she knew he was panicking inside, but staying next to the throne, and an irate man in burgundy garb cursing the giant.

The disagreement becoming heated as she approached, eyes falling on the cause of the squabble, Loki in his Aesir form, wearing nothing but the signature loin covering of a frost giant for clothing while his ankles, wrists and neck where encircled in cold steel minus the chains, the mark of a slave. The god looked beaten down for lack of a better word, truthfully, thoroughly used up, a shell, a husk that flinched every time someone made a fast move as he remained standing next to the throne. His hair that was once long had been cut short but looked to be allowed to grow just enough to fall into his eyes, the worst thing to do to royalty was to take their long hair, the sign of a free man.

“Am I interrupting,” Y/N spoke up making all eyes turn to the woman dressed in heavy furs and escorted by men that could only be described as bears as the one in burgundy looked her over closely the woman noting the hammer, this was Thor.

“No, my queen, just negotiations,” Helblendi spoke up, acting as though Thor was no longer there to turn attention to the woman in the wolf pelt.

Thor preparing to argue and follow after the giant as Helblendi took steps down the frozen dais to reach Y/N who stepped from between the men dressed in bear hides with the heads over their own like a hood while the woman who came forward Thor noticed wore a wolf pelt with the head for a hood, but it was pulled so her face was visible. Hearing a shuffle behind Helblendi making the god realize Loki was shadowing his masters every move and sure to not look at what was once his brother.

“It has been a long time since you have sat foot in this realm,” Helblendi spoke up, ignoring Thor as well as Loki who Y/N shifted to look over as the giant took her ungloved hand without burning it, bowing to place a kiss to the back of it carefully before standing back up, Thor shocked he was showing gentleness towards her.

Loki knew who she was, well as in she negotiated trade for Jotunheim and Midgard, he had been present the many times she and Helblendi had conversed over a projection. His older brothers proficient ability at seidr surprised him that he was able to hold a call so to say between realms like he did.

“Were not done here,” Thor interrupted, Y/N noting Loki flinch in the most minute way that he wasn’t aware of as the mood shifted with in seconds as Helblendi turned on Thor.

Everyone watching the god readying his hammer as Loki took a step back from the chaos and in his escape to not be a part of the squabble almost backed into her guard. Y/N quick to loop a finger in the gods wrist shackle to prevent it and make sure he stayed where he was sure to be noted by Helblendi when it was over so he wouldn’t be punished for hiding.

“We are done here Asgardian! There is no negotiation, no price to be had! Loki is my slave, our payment! I suggest you return to Asgard before your father finds out, Odinson,” the giant bellowed at the god who showed no sign of backing down.

Y/N ignoring the chaos to look over the nervous Loki, obvious that punishment took the form of beatings though it didn’t look like he had taken one in a while, as well as food deprivation but it was apparent he was being fed well now as his body was regaining its toned lightly muscled look when he was shown to her over the projection after he had been on Jotunheim for a day, Helblendi dying to show her the new trophy.

That meant he was broken, it hurt to look him over, his weary emerald orbs watching the clash between both his brothers, paternal and adopted, battling it out with words and snarls. The shackles where just that, chainless shackles that did nothing to keep seidr bound, Loki was once powerful with it but looked like they had broken that part of him as well.

He was clean which was a shock, well-muscled toned body exposed to the coldness of this realm, she knew frost giant or not he was used to the warmth of Asgard knew he hated the coldness of this place more than she. Keeping a finger looped in the shackle Y/N was sure to prevent him from cowering, that wasn’t what he needed to do, it would earn him nothing but a beating and that was one thing she felt she couldn’t witness.

Quickly Y/N released the shackle Loki never noted she held the instant Helblendi turned to look at her, the god of thunder still fuming, staying on the giants heels as he stepped back to Y/N and her guard. The raven-haired god looked to be forcing himself to remain stoic and calm to not invoke the wrath of his frost giant brother.

It was a thing Loki had worked hard to keep held back, the wrath of his brother Helblendi, the past several years, he couldn’t take the beatings, the torture, none of it any longer. Stepping up to the giant he went back to his side to await orders sure not to look at anyone but to stare off in the midground.

“My queen. May I escort you to the dining hall? It has been rebuilt and I believe you will like how it was constructed this time,” the giants tone quiet towards Y/N, obvious to the two gods the giant was very familiar with her, it wasn’t fear but it was reverence he spoke to her in as well as a protectiveness, a cobalt blue lined hand reached to shuffle Loki away from her.

“What about your guest brother,” she spoke making the men take note, they knew there were no sisters or females born to Laufey.

The realization dawning on Loki, having read when he was allowed to this was his deceased middle brothers wife Y/N, queen of a people that lived on Midgard, a large collection of berserkers and ulfhednar. It was marriage that got his brother Blyster disowned but had Helblendi making it known the middle brother was a part of the family after Laufey’ death. Though Blyster was dead it left Y/N as the next to take up the treaties and trade agreements which had been happening all along just with no claim to the middle brother for making it so.

“He was just leaving. Where you not Odinson,” the giant rumbled low in his chest a warning as he turned to look at Thor who uttered out curses to him before being escorted out by the palace guard, the leathery skin giant turning back to Y/N who was looking over Loki, her heart ached, she knew that felling, the lost, the damned before looking back to Helblendi who had caught her.

“Don’t worry my queen, he hasn’t received a beating in some years now, he is a loyal servant of the crown now are you not runt,” Helblendi spoke hotly to the man, the broken slave next to him who answered with a yes master, before the giant took her hand once again hoisting the fur clad woman into the crook of his elbow, sure to keep her pulled close to share a little of his warmth though it was far and few between since their skin locked it deep inside at their core to keep them warm in this environment.

“I see the gift of the cask has made the palace grander than what it once was,” Y/N spoke, thankful it was closed off from the blowing cold, the halls actually lit with what she referred to as cold flame, it was a cold whitish blue light that flickered from the large wall sconces, a light that came from the cask itself.

“That it has,” Helblendi admitted the two talking like old friends as they continued to the dining hall.

Loki sure to keep pace with the giant, but occasionally looking back to her guard studying them over, it had been centuries since he had seen a berserker and he had never seen an ulfhednar, just read about those and it was peeking his curiosity, a thing that hadn’t happened in a long time. The god, the old god, wanting to know more, wishing he could speak with her, maybe, just maybe he could get lucky enough to sit in with them at the negotiations. It would be enough just to study her movements, the way she spoke, the brief grab to his shackle in the throne room made him note she was no weakling of a creature, that would run true if she was in fact ulfhednar.

The god almost forgetting his place as they entered the dining hall which was lit with a massive cold fire in two fireplaces, one on each end of the hall as they entered from the side, Loki so focused on Y/N and his brother he completely missed the servant carrying a tray to the table and slammed into them to stumble and bump into Helblendi.

Emerald orbs looking up to his brother in fear of what the punishment would be since this was the first time he had fucked up in years which meant bottled rage. A low growl from the giant had Loki moving back to stand ready for his punishment as Y/N slid from the giants arm to take the hand and pull Helblendi to get his attention away from Loki.

“It was an accident brother, show me my seat,” Y/N spoke steadily, the giants gaze falling on her with a smirk, he wasn’t stupid, knew what she done but went with it.

Helblendi ignoring Loki to guide the woman to the seat that was to be hers next to his own, noting Loki taking a stand behind the giants seat as he took his seat, her guard sitting on the opposite side of the table, everyone settling for Loki to sit between Helblendi and Y/N like a dog begging for scraps as they were served.

It was what one would possibly call a normal meal, everyone spoke even the berserker guard who were occasionally asked questions of their personal lives and spoken to by name by the giant king. Well, all for the fact the giant fed pieces food to Loki like a begging dog that hung on his brothers every move, an extra cup on the table handed to the once god that sat like a beat dog between them. It made Y/N’ stomach churn to observe it, he may have tried to destroy the realm, tried to take over Midgard, but this was too much for her to witness as a thought sprung to mind.

“Brother, may I,” Y/N hinted to the piece of bread in her hand then to Loki who was watching both interact, it was apparent he was trying to figure out the dynamic between the two royals, the giant nodding an OK for her hand it to him and that Loki would be permitted to take it.

Reaching down slowly Y/N was sure he had to touch over her fingers to take it, a gentle caress that had his eyes growing wide as he was not permitted to touch those above him, not daring to meet her gaze but the touch was all she needed as her senses where engulfed by pain, betrayal and submission to his fate. It tore a hole in her chest that ached even more so since they were still connected when Helblendi jerked him up by the collar, blinding fear consuming her insides before contact finally broke as Loki was hoisted into the air, the giant cursing him for touching her.

“How dare you touch her runt,” Helblendi snarled out, “you will ruin her with your vile mentality!”

“Helblendi! STOP,” Y/N roared to the giant who paused at the viciousness in the queens voice, it was a command when spoken had the entire room stilled, her guard at the ready but no one dared move as she hinted for Loki to be placed back to the floor between them.

Helblendi dropped Loki to the frozen floor between them, the god struggling to breath gripping to the collar and falling to his back to take in lungs full of burning cold air that scorched his lungs, head reeling and spinning. Vision was coming back slowly as was a bruise he could feel painting the skin under the collar as he remained laying in the floor for fear being thrown back to the stone if he got up to soon, his masters rage having not passed enough to allow it.

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