#I want to go to bed ! mirmir!

[thymehaspassed]

It’s 8:30 and I’m eepy :(

[turtleshores]

The Things We Used To Share

She knocks on the door, hoping Kiwi will answer. It’s been a few days since the incident in the Queen of Chaos dying, but she knows how they’ve been feeling since Calliope telling them Eya doesn’t see them as someone important. She gives it a few seconds, taking a step back as the door opens slightly, revealing the musician. “Kiwi? Can… Can you tell me about what happened now?” She didn’t want to make them relive what happened if they weren’t ready. “Or at least tell me who this ‘Hero’ was?” She puts air quotes around the word hero, since no hero would actively kill the Overseers.

“Her name was Audrey Redheart, okay? Now I’m going to go back to sleep. It’s late and I don’t feel the best.” They force a small smile and close the door, leaving Miriam to her thoughts. She couldn’t process this at all. Audrey was the hero? Audrey was the one killing the Overseers? There’s no way that could be right, right? How is she going to explain to Kiwi that she was friends with the hero? She makes her way down to the couch, laying down on it and staring at the ceiling, letting herself remember how things used to be.

----------

“Miriam! Come on! Let’s go catch some frogs by the pond!” A young girl’s voice calls out to her, and she giggles, running to catch up to her friend.

“I’m coming Audrey! Wait up!” She pulls her dress up slightly, hoping to stop herself from tripping.

“No way slowpoke!” Audrey grins at her before taking off, forcing her to run even faster to catch up. After a few minutes, they reach the pond and take off their socks and shoes, ready to find these frogs in the water. “First one to find five different frogs wins!”

“You’re on Audrey!”

----------

“Audrey! Audrey!” Miriam runs up to the older girl, pulling her into a hug. “I missed you! How was your trip to the kingdom of Ruelle?” Audrey smiles at her, giving her a quick squeeze before ruffling her cyan locks.

“It was fun! And I bought you something!” Miriam gasps, stepping back and giving a small, excited jump. Audrey kneels down, rummaging in her bag before pulling out a baby blue jacket. “What do you think? It’s supposed to match my red one!” She points to the new jacket she’s wearing, and Miriam grins, taking the jacket and throwing it over her purple dress.

“I love it Drey! Thank you so much!”

Audrey lets out a small laugh, her cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink. “It’s no problem Mirmir.”

----------

“Hey Drey?” She’s staring at the sky, leaning back against the grass on the hill, waiting for the sun to set.

“Yeah Mirmir?” The raven haired girl looks at her, an eyebrow raised. Miriam looks at her, taking in how beautiful the other girl looks at the moment. She pushes down a blush.

“You know that what’s mine is yours right? Like, you can borrow my stuff whenever?”

“Of course! And the same goes for you!” She smiles at that, and grabs Audrey’s hand, staring back up at the sky.

“Alright, I just wanted you to know.”

----------

“Psst, Mirmir.” She turns over so she’s facing Audrey, the singular blanket covering them.

“Yeah Drey?” She yawns, rubbing one of her eyes, her cyan locks even messier than usual.

“Thanks for being my friend. And for letting me stay over so often.” Audrey gives her a soft smile, purple eyes staring into onyx ones.

“You’re welcome Audrey. I’m happy to be your friend.”

----------

“What do you mean you’re moving?!” This feels like a split second decision. Audrey had never expressed wanting to leave Delphi before.

“I just don’t want to stay here anymore, you know? I don’t want to live one place my whole life.” Audrey leans back against the couch, and Miriam can’t help but be angry with how lax the other is about all of this.

Miriam runs a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath. Then, she heads upstairs to her room. Audrey follows, watching as the witch rummages through her things. Miriam picks up a photo, staring at the smiling faces of herself and Audrey as children, her heart aching at the thought of Audrey leaving. She stands up, makes her way over to Audrey, and hands her the picture.

“What’s with the picture?”

“I want you to keep it. Now, can you just leave for the rest of the day? I need to process that you’re leaving. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Audrey nods, giving Miriam a quick hug before leaving, picture in hand.

----------

Audrey didn’t come over the next day. Or the day after that. Or any other day. She didn’t come to say goodbye. She just left. Miriam didn’t know where she went, but the witch didn’t want to know anyways. She felt more alone than ever. It was as if Audrey ripped out her heart and stomped on it when she left. Why did she have to fall for her best friend? She should have known Audrey wouldn’t feel the same. She stares at her wall, remembering how her and Audrey used to cuddle when the girl came over. She can almost feel the lack of warmth next to her. All her thoughts keep bringing her back to Audrey, as if the girl is the only thing to ever exist in Miriam’s world.

She pushes herself up and off her bed, throwing a blast of magic at the wall. It doesn’t make her feel better, and she kicks her bed frame away from her, tears pooling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks as she sinks down to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. “Audrey, why did you leave me behind? I’m lost without you and I don’t know what to do…”

----------

She closes her eyes, wiping away her tears. She’s past all of this. She’s over what Audrey did, and she won’t let her past affect the future of the world. Still, she has a couple of questions. Like, where did Audrey go? Why did Audrey agree to kill the Overseers? Why did she have to fall in love with Audrey? And most importantly, what did Audrey do with her heart?

[tarithenurse]

On my mind, in my soul - 9

Prompt: Got three things to go by on this from Anon: “Ghost rule” (cover/translation by jubyphonic), Asgard, a necklace. Pairing: Loki x Burglar!reader. Content: Cussing, angsting, illness, mention of death etc., family quarrels. All in all a lovely, uplifting chapter once again :P A/N: Well...I caved in and that means you get the full chapter now...let’s see how long before the requirements are met for the next. If you LIKE what you read: please reblog! Or comment? Or send me hugs? (Puppies are also accepted)

The value of a life

I guess I really can’t dodge it this time No law to pardon my crime, no clemency for this evil of mine

Of course, Heimdal had warned the All-Father. A host of Einherjar were standing ready with cuffs, chains, and golden spears the moment Loki’s feet touched solid ground. They’d been rougher than strictly necessary, shoving him to his knees before binding him with magically sealed restraints. Thor couldn’t do much to prevent it unless he wanted to make the situation worse, and besides, the brothers had promised to remain passive throughout this endeavour. Yes, breaching banishment was bound to have certain consequences.

Shoved forwards with both weapons and hard gazes at his back, Loki’s reminded of a similar scene, but this time he makes sure not to smile or talk out of turn, waiting instead till he’s right at the bottom stairs of the throne before sinking to his knees without being ordered to. Maybe it’s the sight of the fallen prince, or perhaps the fact that having Loki around always meant trouble for some one, either way a murmur ripples through the audience that has managed to gather even with the short warning.

An echoing boom of metal against stone silences the room. “Loki Laufeyson,” Odin’s voice holds a tired curiosity, “why have you returned from your banishment, knowing that the penalty might be death?”

As long as another life will be spared. Finally lifting his head to face the man he once thought of as his father, Loki feels the old resentment begging to roil inside once more. Everyone’s waiting for it, expecting him to lash out verbally with that silver tongue which has won him friends and enemies alike. Even Thor, standing next to the throne, is keeping a watchful eye on the slender figure prone on the floor.

“I accept any consequences of my transgression, All-Father,” the words taste like bile but have to be spoken clearly, “and you may do with me as you see fit…I only wish to save an innocent life.”

A few snorts of disbelief can be heard through the grand hall, still Loki keeps quiet. Green eyes locked with one of pale blue, watering with age and seeking compensation through the aid of watchful spies. Seconds pass, long as a lifetime, and already the prodigal son fears it’ll be too late. A glance to Thor is noticed and scrutinized by their father.

“So you’ve found compassion for the Midgardians now? Hmmm?” Odin’s eyepatch wobbles as the white brows lift. “Tell me then…who do you intend to save?”

“Admittedly only one for now.” Even to himself, the plea sounds hollow. “A maiden whom I unwittingly put in harms way when trying to achieve the opposite.”

“One?”

“One.”

Loki’s knees are starting to ache against the stones, tempting him to reposition ever so slightly under the scrutinizing gaze of the King. He’s had worse, endured crippling pain far beyond the discomfort he now feels, and so he remains motionless save for the eyes that return the stare unwaveringly.

“Thor?” Odin commands without shifting his attention.

The God of Thunder was not one for convoluted speech when growing up in Asgard. Although he studied as a prince should under the careful eyes of Frigga and the many tutors, the more physically inclined boy preferred to put his intellect to different uses than poring over books more than absolutely necessary. Loki used to be annoyed by it, but today…today he rejoices with each simple sentence the brother utters, detailing the events since the phone call to Stark from Loki. Even as he bluntly describes the medical situation of the woman who’s nothing but a stranger to anyone else.

Silence fills the hall when Thor has finished. Odin himself shows a sliver of surprise and has very few questions for the broad warrior before sinking into thought. Make up your mind, old man! Not a word passes Loki’s lips. He can’t risk angering the All-Father, the ruler of Asgard who protects the realm and its people viciously from outsider.

“You bargain your freedom and life in exchange for hers?”

“Yes.” No waver.

A low hum escapes Odin while he thinks. “And…even if there is nothing to be done to save her, you will accept your sentence?”

Not before she’s safe. “Yes.”

Although “no” is what I meant, I gave a “yes” and lied yet again

…   Reader’s PoV   …

The entire world is moving, tipping and spinning around you without having any impact on your stability on the slippery ice. Faintly, you remember the idea that wherever you are isn’t the real world, but how can that be? Already, you can sense the beckoning carried on the icy winds, the urge driving you on instead of letting the stickiness take you down into the dark. Hasn’t that always been the life you’ve known?

Deciding not to care about the odd jostling of the world, you carry on slowly. As you navigate through patches of greedy tendrils, you feel how they hold on tighter…pull harder. It even looks as though more of them appears and begin to invade the relative safety of the ice. No! They can’t hold you back, the musn’t. Because somewhere at the end of the path is a golden chain set with small stones and it’s calling for you.

…   Loki’s PoV   …

Odin doesn’t allow Loki to be there when [Y/N] arrives, and it’s only Thor’s shameless pleading (mixed with a bit of logic) that secures a corner view in the Healing Chambers.

By Mirmir’s head! Every curse and worrying comment is bit back in fear that the silver tongue will land Loki in trouble…or the Midgardian. It’s evident how taxing the journey has been. Each breath is laboured now, rattling the normally gorgeous chest, yet nothing seems to come off it: face sickly pale; prominent, dark veins marring the soft skin; and a fever that rages through her body with a force that fills the entire room. One glance at Thor is enough to solidify the concern.

…

Time passes slowly, each minute reflected in the glittery particles of the Soul Forge’s projection. Even the physicians, Idunn and Eir, wear grim expressions as they work their skill and magic to battle the poison eating the patient from within. Loki can barely make sense of their words, too lost in thought and consumed by a disconcerting worry that he dares not voice yet. Just let her live.

“No, we can’t, there’s not enough.” Idunn’s brows are pulled down to the nose as she examines the data hovering above the patient.

The other healer doesn’t relent. “Maybe some o–“

“Who?!”

The one word’s sharp enough for a guard to wince, his spear brushing uncomfortably near Loki who’s trying to get an idea of what the women are arguing about. A donor? Well, the options are limited, and whatever [Y/N] is in need of has to be something any healthy Asgardian must apparently possess since the physicians are discussing it at all.

“I volunteer.” Five spears realign at Loki’s calm voice.

Stalking past the exam table, Idunn takes in the ex-prince’s form properly for the first time since his arrival. “Clearly, despite your intellect, you’ve not realized that we’re referring to a full blood transfusion,” she explains curtly, “replacing all of the girl’s blood.”

“Do it.”

Brown eyes are boring into cold blues. “We’d have to verify if you’re a match.”

“Do it.”

“Using just one donor could be lethal…for the donor.”

There’s no hesitation. No waver in the answer. “Do it.”

“Brother!” For all of Loki’s sharp senses, he’d forgotten the blond, bumbling idiot of a Thunder God still was there. “You cannot do this!”

“Why not?!” Again the guard flinches. “Tell me, why I shouldn’t! My freedom, maybe my life, is forfeit either way! Let it at least be used for one good deed before your father does whatever he pleases with it.”

Thrusting his hands forward, manacles chafing against the skin, Loki presents the vulnerable insides of the elbows the best he can.

…

Perhaps this isn’t so bad after all. The darkness of the marring, prominent veins is already lessening, leaving Loki to believe that he can see a healthy luster returning to [Y/N]’s delicate skin even from where he’s lying in a neighbouring Soul Forge.

“I must admit,” Odin’s voice shifts the adoptive son’s attention, “that your action moves me.”

“I’m not doing it for you.”

Maybe Thor wants to say something, his mouth opening and closing as he rolls slowly on his feet. Swaying. Lulling. Must keep my eyes open. It’s getting difficult already. A tiredness is invading Loki’s body as the pumps work to withdraw blood from both subjects, only pumping it into one afterwards. This is not how the Asgardian had expected it to end, complacent and filled with regrets.

“If this should be your last deed, my son, then I will remember you more fondly than I once feared I would have to.” The voice is distant, with a cotton-like quality to it as it seeps through the dimming lights.

Go ahead and judge away, I chose to be this kind of person anyway

…   Reader’s PoV   …

The dream’s fading, becoming nothing more than a fuzzy memory of desperation and a longing for something that you don’t even recall anymore save for a glittery eye of a tiger. It had been so important to reach it, but did you actually succeed in the end? Whatever it is that had been so vital, it’s not in your hand as you try to move it, fingers fumbling over soft silk and lungs filling wonderfully with clean air scented with honey. It’s like breathing life, and a tiny content sigh escapes you.

Soothing but insistent, your senses come back for full power, and despite the soft bed, it’s hard to find comfort in your body and mind: one is tingling as though every part has been asleep and is now waking with pins and needles, the other is flooded with fragmented recollections of a hand-over gone wrong. Very wrong.

You push yourself upwards against a wooden headrest with a groan, eyes blinking to stop the room around you from swimming away in a haze, and you spot a figure sitting in a chair. Broad shoulders hunched forward and elbows resting on the knees to leave the hands hanging loosely folded.

“So…you wake,” is all Thor says before getting up and leaving, ignoring your stunned reaction.

…

You’ve been bathed and dressed in a pretty yet antique-ish dress. Even fed. But no one has bothered explain to you what has happened and why you’re here in Asgard. That’s where I am, right? Following a guard in golden armour, you’re being led through impressive halls with statues, murals, and tapestries the likes of which you’ve only seen it the best museums and private collections. It’s not until the enormous double doors open that you realize you’re on your way to the throne to meet the king. Odin.

All the curiosity you’d felt is twisted into a nausea-inducing anxiety as you pass pillars and people lining the length of the room, all standing silently watching. At each carved stone reaching high above are more guards, but it’s the silently moving shadows at the walls that prevent you from breathing further than the top of the sternum and recognising Thor next to the throne does nothing to compensate. Where’s Loki? He’s got to be around somewhere, but you can’t find him and all too soon you’re at the dais and have to kneel with eyes fixed on the floor.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N].” Where does Odin know my name from? “It is imperative that you understand how seldom it is for an outsider to be brought here…let alone a simple Midgardian.” There’s a poorly veiled insult there, but this is not the time to pick a fight and you choose to nod instead. “Still…here you are.” Was that a sigh? “My adoptive son Loki came and pleaded for the best physicians to treat you in the hope your life could be saved. He came…although he had been banished from this realm…”

The king continues for much longer than you find necessary, especially focusing on the infinite benevolence of him as a king and the Asgardian prowess on pretty much every single field of science, history, and diplomacy. The few stolen glances reveal nothing to be out of the ordinary, and you presume this must be the normal way for the aging monarch to address anyone in court.

Eventually, Odin reaches the end and waits for you to express your gratitude for the lifesaving treatment he has extended to you, a pathetic human (not his actual words, but same point). Of course, you sing his and Asgard’s praises. To begin with.

“Your majesty, if I may…” You try to sound confident as you meet his eyes. Eye. “Where’s Loki? I’d like to thank him.”

Tell them who I really am, Since everything I know’s about to meet its end

[holistic-storyteller]

So, here's something from a wip I haven't yet talked of.

__

Life itself was clashing with death.

A deep glow of blue, golden, and that same marron color of Fenrir’s eyes danced in the air above the three gods. Some might call it beautiful, others might call it horrible, but you reader can call it breathtaking. Close your eyes and squeeze them tight, imagine that pool of color taking life; a ballet passion and pain. The colors started to become more vivid, voices now could be heard.

It all came to an abrupt stop when Atle gave a quiet cry of pain. Hel and Fenrir dropped their hands. Fenrir ducked under the table to nurse the burns on his wrists, meanwhile Hel checked the little boy over.

He was sleeping now, his breathing ragged as if he had been having a nightmare.

Loki gave a tight lipped smile, and he disappeared in another moment as if he had never been there. He had work to do, and he needed to apologize to his friend for dismissing him so quickly. After he apologized to Doctor Mirmir, he thought he might go and finish robbing that pizza shop.

“Hello, little dear,” Hela whispered to the boy as he settled back into sleep, “I’m putting him in a room. Fenrir, you’re alright?”

“Barely,” Fenrir said through his teeth.

“I’ll be back down to help with your pain.”

Hel scooped Atle back into her arms and promptly left the room. She ghosted up the stairs, seeming to simply glide to where she needed to be. The room she pushed into was smaller than the rest. She didn’t need more than three bedrooms - one of them was hers, the second was for her brother Fenrir, and the third for their sibling Jörmungand - but she had more than enough to accomodate for at least two more people if need be. That need would never come, and the only reason the house hadn’t fallen into disrepair is because she used magic to upkeep it when she was away, which was fairly often.

The house wasn’t really a house. It was more like a pocket dimension, one that linked Midgard to Helheim. Hel liked to spend time here, it felt a little less lonely.

But back to the bedroom.

The bedroom she chose was small, it was cozy. Unlike the rest of the house it was full of color, the walls painted like a sunny sky and the floor a soft fuzz of red. She wasn’t sure why she had chosen this design, but she loved it nonetheless. She laid the child onto the bed, waving her hand to cover him with a soft blanket.

“Fuck does Duer want with you,” she mumbled, her hand lingering on the boy’s cheek. “We’ll see.”

She left the boy to his own devices, and he was lost to his nightmares.