#What do you mean Odin is missing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

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Dirty Work 38

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've been awake since 2am.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

After breakfast, you get ready to go into town with Frigga and Hela upon their vaunted ladies’ trip. An air of uncertainty persists around what exactly that means. Flowers, shopping, and what else?

You try not to let the mystery overshadow the Odinsons’ hospitality. You’d hate to come across ungrateful after all they’d done. Odin and Frigga hadn’t asked for anything in return all while receiving you with an open hand. Just like with all things, you go along to get along.

The drive has you in a sort of trance as you watch the landscape pass. The lush greens and speckles of violet and pink across the fields, thickening to looming forest of coniferous pines and towering oaks. Finally, the wilds thin into even ground and open into a township with a painted wooden sign.

The buildings are old but well-kept. Not like the large city with its pitted brick and steaming sewers. Every street here is like those that surround Laufeyson’s own estate. Curated and pristine. Just like the Odinsons themselves.

You pull in at a large gated lot. The iron barrier is overgrown with flowers and as you enter, you gape around at the expanse of petals and stems. You’ve never been anywhere so spectacular.

You trail behind Frigga as she browses the selection. You shy away from Hela but she’s hardly concerned with you as she admires a bunch of dark roses. You peer around as an assistant approaches at Frigga’s signal.

“What do you think, dear?” Frigga calls to you, “we want white for the event. Lilies, baby’s breath, gardenia?”

You blink and give some thought, “what about daisies?”

She smiles, “daisies, so simple but pretty.” She turns to the assistant, “do you have many?”

“We should have a few boxes ready for delivery,” she answers.

“Wonderful, we will have some daisies. Oh, and we could have some wisteria hanging. Mm, and miss, white tulips? You have those too?”

The assistant scribbles on her pad, “we can do those as well.”

“Hydrangea,” Hela insists as she approaches, standing behind you, “for the posts.”

“Yes, certainly, hydrangea,” Frigga repeats with a sharp point to the assistant. “Oh and lastly, I spoke with Val about the moonflowers, tell me they’re ready.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson, we have those set aside already.”

“Good, good,” Frigga remarks, “well, we’ll look around a bit more and let you know if anything else is required.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson,” the assistant nods and prompts strolls away.

“You wouldn’t like a splash of red, mother? Maybe some black?” Hela muses, “this Walpurgisnacht will be blinding.”

“Oh, tosh,” Frigga dismisses, “we have a theme. Which reminds me, darling,” she turns to you, “do you have a white dress packed?”

“White?” You blink, “um, no, I didn’t…”

“Not to worry, it’s why we came to town,” she tweets.

“Oof, mother,” Hela cringes.

“Well, I know you certainly don’t have suitable attire,” Frigga reproaches.

“Actually, I’ve a marvelous white jumpsuit selected for just the event,” Hela challenges, “I can listen, I just often choose not to.”

Frigga gives a pinch look before she returns her attention to you, “well then, our task will be easier. I think chiffon might be nice…”

“You know, mother, I do feel as if I’m being replaced,” Hela snickers. You send her a guilty look but her smile holds no malice. She winks and arches a brow. “And yet I do think this little creature will look delectable in white.”

“Mm, yes,” Frigga side-eyes her daughter, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Oh, pardon me, I should be more like my brothers, would you prefer Thor,” Hela mocks and reaches for your hand, taking it as she caresses it emphatically, “oh lady, you are beautiful, I should wonder if what you hide under your skirt is equally as stunning–”

“Hel,” Frigga exclaims, mortified as she snatches her grasp away from you.

“Ah, alright, Loki,” Hela clears her throat and stiffens her posture, adjusting a non-existent tie, “yes, you are rather adequate. Hm, very acceptable.”

“Don’t,” Frigga commands, “you didn’t have to come if you’re only going to make a joke of it.”

“Oh, mother, that’s simply what it is, a joke,” Hela bats her lashes, “loosen up. Is that not what this day is for? To enjoy ourselves?”

Frigga sighs and shakes her head as she turns away. Your mouth slants as you watch after her nervously. Hela clucks and flicks her fingers dismissively, “once she has a taste of wine, she’ll let go.”

✨

You stand in the fitting room, staring dreadfully at the two hangers. One chosen by Frigga, the other by Hela. They are both beautiful but you’re not certain either of them suit you. You feel the long chiffon as you mull over the choice.

“Well, darling, let us see,” Frigga calls through the curtain.

You wince and recoil. You pull down the longer of the two, the flowy chiffon that caught Frigga’s eye. The one-shoulder cut cinches to draped skirt which drowns you. You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. The fabric seems to drown you.

You turn with a swish and pull back the curtain, stepping through awkwardly as you tug the skirt out of the way of your feet. Hela makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Frigga fawns and daintily touches her cheeks.

“Oh, gods, that is gorgeous, isn’t it?” She comes forward and pinches a fold in the skirt.

“She looks like she’s caught in a snowstorm,” Hela muses, “please, she won’t be able to do much in all that.”

“I suppose,” Frigga backs up and folds her arms, “but I like the style, perhaps we might find something similar with less length.”

“Try mine,” Hela demands.

You look between them, not daring to argue with either. They seem to do enough of that. You spin and sweep behind the curtain once more. You shed the chiffon layers and pull on the satin sheath. There isn’t much to it. Thin straps and not much length, a slit up your thigh. It’s more lingerie than a dress.

You peek out shyly before you make yourself come out. Frigga’s face flushes and her lips part. Hela smirks and tilts her head as she bites her lip.

“Oh, fabulous,” Hela remarks.

“She cannot wear that,” Frigga throws a hand up.

“Why not, she has nice legs.”

“That isn’t… appropriate.”

“Well, mother, she can’t dress like an old matron either.”

“It was a perfectly nice dress–”

“For 1912,” Hela shoots back.

You shrink before them and let their back and forth fade into the background. You glance over the rack of white garments and zone out. You just want this to be over. You’re tired of being pulled back and forth like a game of tug-of-war.

Your name draws you back and you focus on the women watching you. You wince and teeter on your feet, “sorry, I was distracted.”

“I was saying,” Hela intones, “we should let you choose.”

“Me?” You blanch.

“Well, it is your dress,” Frigga utters reluctantly.

“Oh, but I… don’t know much about… clothes.”

“Never too late to learn,” Hela insists, “go on, have your pick. Surprise us.”

You glance back at the rack and wiggle your fingers. You slowly approach as the two other women retreat, still muttering to each other. You push through the hangers; too heavy, too stiff, too sheer.

You think you like this one. A simple sheath lining with a mesh overlay, little crepe flowers sewn into the out later. The straps are slender but the bodice is straight cut. It’s wonderful and dreamy. You take the hanger and quickly scurry back behind the curtain.

You switch out the short dress for your pick. You look at your reflection and nearly stagger. You love it. It’s adorable. You go to the curtain and brace yourself. What if they don’t like it? You exhale and ready yourself for disappointment.

You step through and the women face you. Neither say a word as they look at you. They consider you, eyeing you head to toe. Oh no! It’s hideous, isn’t it? You have no taste.

“I love it,” Hela chirps, “what about you, mother? Isn’t it gorgeous on her?”

“I… it’s so… you,” Frigga squeals, “yes, it’s perfect. And the little flowers. Ugh, amazing.”

“Really?” You stand on your toes nervously.

“You must have it,” Hela insists, “next, shoes… the pairing must be perfect.”

“Shoes…” you murmur. Does it ever end?

✨

Your day doesn’t end after the boutique. The tumultuous night slumps in your shoulders and droops in your eyelids as the hours stretch on. Your next stop is a sleek white building with sparkling glass doors. As you enter, the sterile lobby has you minimizing yourself in fear of staining the pure white tile or breaking the crystal counter.

Frigga and Hela strut towards the woman who stands behind the glass table and greet her breezily. She welcomes them by name as you trail behind like a mouse. You don’t belong here. Not a place like this. You might be with them but you’re not one of them.

Once more, you sink into a daze, trying to distance yourself from the present. From those feelings of unbelonging. Those old wounds from the schoolyard when you stood by the fence and kicked rocks, not daring to provoke anyone with an errant gaze.

“Dear,” Frigga jars you as she gently touches your arm, “did you have ID?”

“ID?” You say dumbly, not processing her request at first.

“They serve alcohol so it’s required to check-in,” she explains.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you clumsily grab your purse and unzip the top. You dig out your ID card and hand it over. Frigga has a brief glance at it before handing it over. The twitch beneath her eye worries you; has it expired?

You wait as Hela taps her short nails on the counter top. Finally, the woman behind the counter approves you for entry. You still don’t really get what this place is. There’s no signs aside from the marquee in swoopy cursive; Hvergelmir.

Another woman appears and takes you through an angular doorway. You’re guided to a private room with robes on hooks, cushioned benches and small cubbies. You watch Hela and Frigga as they remove their heels and set them on the low rack. You do the same, doing everything they do at a delay.

They tuck their bags into the cubbies and undress without shame, keeping only their underwear on as they wrap themselves in the silken robes. You face the corner as you strip and pull on a robe yourself.

It isn’t until you move on to the next room that you realise what this place is. A spa. You’ve never been to one but it’s exactly like you’ve seen on television. You recline as a woman smears your face with a mask and places cucumbers over your eyes. It’s relaxing even if it feels a bit strange.

After laying there for what seems like forever, a woman comes in to offer stemmed glasses of sparkling wine. You remove the sliced veggies from your eyes and accept one in kind with the other women.

“I think I might get a wrap,” Hela declares, “I need the cleanse.”

“Mm, I think I might do the steam room,” Frigga drawls before she sips from her glass. You take a tiny sip, reminding yourself of your last indulgence and the disaster that followed. Hela downs half the glass in a single gulp.

“What about you?” Hela looks at you pointedly. “Would you like to join me for the seaweed wrap?”

“Um, what is that?” You ask.

“Oh, darling,” Frigga sits up and grabs a leather folio, “have a look. You can choose whatever you like.”

You accept the little booklet and open it up to the laminated inside. You read through each item and the description below. The steam room sounds uncomfortable, you’re not a fan of sweating, and the seaweed thing sounds slimy…

“Mud bath?” You read allowed.

“Good choice,” Hela praises, “I might join you after my wrap.”

“Oh, okay,” you close the book and put it on the small round table close to you.

Frigga picks up the small golden bell and rings it. The same woman appears and Frigga lists off the treatments for each of you. She’s led away first, then someone comes to fetch Hela, and finally, you’re taken away by another woman with a high ponytail.

The woman helps you cover your hair with a towel and hands you back your wine glass. She leads you into a room with long rectangular tubs filled with reddish brown muck. She points you to one at the end and you put your glass on the little ledge that juts out from the side.

She helps you remove your robe, “you can keep your underwear on if you like. We can provide a fresh pair after, but you may want to remove your bra.”

You nod and dip your head down to unhook your bra. She reaches to take it and you hesitantly hand it over. She hangs your robe from a hook on the wall and leaves you there. Alright, so you just get in?

You step over the high wall of the tub and lower yourself into the warm mud. It doesn’t feel too bad. You slide around slightly before you’re able to find your bearings and reclining against the slanted back. Is this relaxing?

You close your eyes but not for long. You end up staring at the lines between the ceiling tiles. You stir the mud with your fingers. You feel childish, like you're making mud pies.

You stop as you hear voices. You peek over for just a moment as someone else enters. A tall woman with a swirl of black hair escaping the towel on her head strides in, her tall figure draped in one of the ivory robes. The attendant takes her to the tub across from yours.

You try not to watch as she opens her robe, revealing her sleek body shamelessly. She eases into the tub with a sigh and the attendant leaves. You keep your eyes up as tension fills the space.

“The mud is nice today,” she says, startling you.

You nod and look at her as she stretches her arms around the walls of the tub. Her chest is barely concealed by the muck.

“You don’t come here often. I’ve not seen you around.”

You shake your head, “first time.”

“Ah,” her blue eyes gleam, “special occasion?”

“Erm, not really, I… Walpurgisnacht,” you pronounce the word delicately.

“That’s not for a few days,” she intones.

“You know it?”

“Yes, of course, everyone around here does. And this year, with Frigga hosting, it will be a spectacle.”

“You know Frigga?” You wonder.

She laughs, “of course I do. Who doesn’t?” Her tone is dry and her expression haughty, “how do you know her?”

“Um, I… work for her son,” you utter flatly.

“Thor?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you correct her.

“How amusing,” she smirks, “what’s your name?”

You answer, your chest binding up tightly. You feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her. Something about the way she grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she purrs, “I’m Sif. You might tell my ex-husband I send my regards.”

You swallow dryly and stare at her. Your heart is pounding and your ears ringing. Sif? In the flesh? She’s absolutely gorgeous. You can see why she haunts the Odinsons. She’s perfect.

Now you know why you will never live up to Laufeyson’s expectations. Why he’s so hard to please. Compared to her, well, you can never compare to her. She is immaculate.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel

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rocksanddeadflowers · 1 year ago

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Love considering Brian's weird morals often bc my morals seem weird to the standard kind or so I've been told? So really I think you make a great point about sentience - so I think it's not just sentience, but innocence? Not sure if that's the word I'm looking for but... all living things definitely have some level or variation of sentience, plants and animals and people all communicate and so forth. (Arguably intimate object have a certain life/sentience to them but that's an entirely different argument i don't know how to get into rn so ignoring that.) But I think a possibility for Brian's morals is to value all sentient life equally. A man's life, a cat's life, and a rose's life are all worth value, all equal value because of the life that they hold. So letting the rose die is the same as letting a cat or a man die. Nit certain that's how it would be with Brian but I think it works here well enough?

(Also, like I said I like thinking about Brian's morals a lot so to add to "innocence", I mean it like... you hold the rose's life, the man's life, and the cat's life to the same value in this scenario. But say, what if the man killed the cat, and saw fit to kill the roses next? And say you could stop the man from killing the roses, but only by means of death. Would you kill the man to save the roses, or stand by to avoid taking a life, and watch the life you spared take another? Okay idk why I stuck with the same analogy trio there so now this sounds a little silly and oddly specific but. I was trying. Dunno if this made any sense. But I always think about that line at the beginning of The Boondocks Saints movie "Now, we must all fear evil men. But there is another kind of evil which we must fear most, and that is the indifference of good men.". It's one of my favorite things ever and I think that's something Brian probably struggles with a lot in MJE. When is indifference better than action if all the actions betrays his morals? Is it ever? Is it always? Is it never? Basically I think he should be allowed to kill in MJE but figuring out when murder is actually appropriate is...... Well. Very tricky for someone living a life like him to say the least. I mean, his crewmates are his family but also very big criminals and murders so is it appropriate to shoot Jonny for sealing the last soda. If he was mortal probably not but he's immortal so- *window's shut down noise that's either coming from Brian or my brain bc it's midnight*)

anyways making you laugh and you liking my description made me very very very happy bc I value my humor and mediocre poetry in random convos so <3

You're very right bc I have a completely separate headcanon-ish idea about TS being with Brian when the Station falls into the sun. We are trying so hard to give him love and companionship.

I feel like the continued and growing talk (+think about them none stop bc I am thinking about them constantly) about these roses is poetically ironic to me bc as they grow up and into our drumbot they climb and weave their way through our words. Neat :) but YES the roses binding him to the gallows as the catgut rots.... oh my goodness obsessed

Also agreed!! I feel like Mordred would honestly be the first person to even truly directly asked why he was hung. Also I keep imagining the idea his was hung bc of the mother (+maybe also baby) dying in childbirth that he was trying to help deliver (which I'm like 95% sure was your idea from another post but it's muddled in the trenches of my mechanisms headcanons that are stored in my brain). Which Mordred would definitely argue wasn't his fault, to which Brian still would not leave the gallows. For one the roses, for two to hang was his punishment which he feels he deserves because, three he feels it was his fault.

And oh!! I feel so silly now bc that's the type of glasswork I was picture but I always think of the word glassblowing instead lol. Also tho a few days ago me and my mom we watching an archeology docu and they were digging up Anglo Saxon graves and talking about the beads they made that archeologist found buried with the folk in the graves (among other things obviously). Can't remember exactly how the guy explained the process of the bead making but it was very fascinating and however Galahad ends up doing his I'm going to picture them very similarly to those beads I think. I mean there's definitely plenty of info available about the beads so I'll probably end up looking into it again later cause I'm too curious about the mixing of materials for painting/coloring the beads.

(also very silly but glass/metal beads are so much more satisfying than plastic/wood bc of the weight..... think about the weight and the clinky sounds of Galahad's beads is scratching my corvid brain)

The flowers!!! Growing around his heart!!!! The thorns scrap and scratch but never tear or puncture, carefully, kindly, lovingly weaving around veins that transition from flesh to metal. Ugh!!!! Also okay grabbing the rosa filipes from the tags and stuffing them in my mouth now actually. While I felt like have bold/brightly colored flowers would be neat for the pop of color in an otherwise dull colored world would be so cool ... Well first off red/orange hues wouldn't actually stand out on the station, from rust to blood. Second, actually? White flowers tend to be some of my favorites ever. Idk why (must've started somewhere as a tiny tot between feeling genuine upsetness over the roses getting painted red in the alice and wonderland cartoon bc they were pretty as is you don't need to be changed to appeal to others who don't actually care about you, and also the clover flowers I called popcorn flowers that grew all over the place where I lived). But while still not traditional looking roses petal shape wise I'm already in love with them. AND wait back to the color thing. I think the thing about these flowers that would make them stand out on the station is that they're clean. Something not stained by the rust and sand and waste of the station is hard to come by, muchless anything bright white. But when the blossoms freshly bloom, they're brilliant white and blinding and clean and just so pure. It's a treasure of a sight for a place like the station. The clean soft color doesn't transfer over when turned into beads, of course, but the weight in Galahad's hands is enough to remember the image of something many folk on the station would live and die without ever seeing.

please consider: Galahad always carrying around rosary beads/prayer beads that carry the image of Merlin, The Hanged Man in the style of a saint or of a crucifix. Also he handmade the entire thing of beads btw.

#ALSO when i referred to how much water galahad could ‘offer’ to the project if making rose clay beads. i used the word offer very-#purposefully and im not sure anyone is picking up on that and i need yall to know. water is scarce that water is an offering to the god he-#sits with while making the beads.#<<<YES i noticed and figured that's what you meant and completely forget to ever comment about it!!!#its means so much!!!! the little offerings of value matter so much!!!!!#also probably kinda off topic but its makes me think about how old pagans/druids when “sacrificing animals to their gods”#they also never burn or left an entire animal as worship. that's ridiculous and wasteful #really it was more like a giant cookout where they cooked the animal(s) and offered it to their gods. but they still ate it all #well sometimes they would burn away certain little bits (typically not tasty parts) or offer them to dogs (specifically i read that in #snorri's account of yule i think. the dogs eating it meant the gods were pleased with the offering.)#but mostly it was the mystical art of a neighborhood barbeque #what i mean is this feels the same were it's not him making brian drink the water but he's offering up the water he himself could use #to instead create the beads of worship in honor of and for the hanged man #i may have missed the mark idk but i am passionate about sacrifices like this since i used to dump my lunch trays kn middle school and-#-say “for odin” like a nerd. who claimed not to be pagan in any way bc “i don't actually worship those gods” while doing so much pagan stuff #what a loser #ALSO going to keep visual note of the roses you described bc now i really want to use them for an Art Thing but.#as soon as i figure out how.#i love them #the mechanisms #i. i need to go to bed now. night night<3

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reallydifferentcaptain · 1 year ago

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Here's something i dont think we talk about enough:

✨Berk is a small town✨

So some background for those who don't know what that means:

(skip to the bottom iyk)

1. Everyone knows everyone. They know everything you do. All the time. If you think they don't knoa you, they know your parents or a friend of your parents or a friend of a friend if a friend. Everyone knows everything.

2. Because everyone knows everyone, you get a Reputation from a young age. And it never leaves. If you high achieve, you stay that way, If you're good at soccer you stay good, etc.

3. You either are dying to leave or never want to leave. This affects all of your relationships with literally everyone.

What does this have to do with Berk?

Well!

That means Hiccup has always been the screw up. In Riders and Defender he gets questioned all the time because he can't escape that.

And you know it put the fear of Odin in him when Stoic told him "there's nothing on this island he doesn't know about" because for the most part THAT'S TRUE

It also makes RTTE more understandable: Hiccup wants to LEAVE, he's a little tired of the screw up routine and it even takes his father until the latter part of RTTE to really earn his full respect. THIS ONLY HAPPENS IF YOU LEAVE A SMALL TOWN!

And in the movies you see Hiccup wanting to leave and how that affects his relationship with Astrid, his mom, and his dad.

In the 3 rd movie there are also moments where he is questioned and STILL TREATED LIKE A SCREW UP.

Pls add more if i missed anything!

TLDR; BERK IS A SMALL TOWN AND IT'S SUPER RELATABLE.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon hiccup #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #hiccup #hiccup httyd #how to train you dragon: the hidden world #how to train a dragon 2 #httyd astrid #httyd stoick #httyd valka #rtte #httyd rtte #riders of berk #defenders of berk #shower thoughts #berks is a small town #i cry

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lightandfellowship · 2 months ago

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Was Odin testing Xehanort here?

I’m starting to wonder if the Child of Destiny is supposed to have the ability to banish darkness/dark entities from people’s hearts.

I say this due to Odin’s wording in the scene where Xehanort strikes Baldr down:

Odin: This is our only chance.

Odin: Xehanort, rid him of the darkness!

I used to misremember this scene as Odin encouraging Xehanort to deal the finishing blow on Baldr, but no, judging by Odin’s phrasing here, he was actually asking Xehanort to save Baldr from the darkness.

But isn’t that a strange thing for Odin to ask of Xehanort? Odin is no doubt a much stronger Keyblade wielder than Xehanort due to his experience and age, so if banishing the darkness from Baldr’s heart via a Keyblade was ever a viable option, wouldn’t Odin have done that himself? Either here and now or before everything went wrong? Why is he entrusting that to an underclassmen who’s still in training? Especially when the spirit of Hoder, an upperclassmen on the cusp of graduating into a Keyblade Master, is standing right there? (I have to imagine he can see her there the same way Xehanort and Baldr can, especially when you consider similar scenes from KH1 and KH3.) Like, it makes sense for Eraqus to ask Xehanort to banish Baldr’s darkness, because Eraqus is desperate and doesn’t know any better, but Odin?

Instead, it almost seems like Odin was hoping for a miracle, hoping that Xehanort would, somehow, have the ability to banish Baldr’s darkness. If Odin secretly knows who Xehanort is, knows that he’s the chosen child who was sent away to Destiny Islands, then maybe the prophecy states somewhere that the Child of Destiny is supposed to be able to save people from the darkness, and Odin was hoping that Xehanort would demonstrate that ability here and now. Both as a means of saving Baldr and as a means of proving that Xehanort is, in fact, the chosen one as they suspected. Keep in mind this detail from the finale Q&A where Nomura says that Odin was entrusted with a task that aligns with the Blue Robed Figure, implying that Odin is somehow involved in all of this Child of Destiny stuff (excerpt taken from KHInsider, translated by Goldpanner):

Q9: What did Master Odin mean at the end when he spoke of a "teacher" and a "cruel fate"? A9: Master Odin himself once had a master who taught him, naturally. His master entrusted him with a certain duty - parts of this align with that of the blue robed figure. This will be revealed in detail in Missing-Link, which depicts a later period.

(Odin mentioning his teacher during this scene is exclusive to the Japanese dialog, as far as I know.)

But of course, Xehanort is not the chosen one, didn’t have the ability to banish Baldr’s darkness, and thus couldn’t save Baldr in the end despite his best efforts to do so, instead choosing to just kill Baldr when he ran out of options. So when Odin responds to Xehanort killing Baldr with “Destiny can be so cruel.” maybe he was referring to how unfortunate it is that Xehanort wasn’t the Child of Destiny after all like they were hoping. Because if he WAS, then maybe all of this could have been prevented.

Of course, this then begs the question: "Why didn’t Odin try to get Xehanort’s help earlier in the story?", but maybe it’s like the Power of Waking where you have to learn it through your experiences and it’s not something you just inherently have access to. Maybe a high-stress, high-stakes situation like this is the only way to manifest the ability. I don't know.

I think this might also give more context to Xehanort removing Vanitas from Ven in BBS. If Xehanort thinks he’s the Child of Destiny, and discovered that the chosen one should have the ability to remove the darkness from people’s hearts, that might have motivated him to try and demonstrate that ability to prove himself. But since he probably doesn’t actually have that ability, the separation process was flawed and resulted in two imperfect halves of a whole, with Ven falling into a coma and his heart becoming fractured.

#rambling about dim path #ch tag: xeh #ch tag: bal #ch tag: odi

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idksmtms · 4 months ago

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You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

Part 6 << PART7 >> Part 8

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone!

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it!

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig.

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine.

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those.

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope.

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so.

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be.

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn.

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously.

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.”

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?”

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more.

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia.

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky.

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh.

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother.

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest.

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end.

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time.

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed.

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home.

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers.

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here.

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox.

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new.

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe.

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers.

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around.

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something.

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be.

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life…

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up.

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze.

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade.

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth.

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.”

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’.

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate.

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly.

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear.

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-”

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him.

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway.

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside.

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it.

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life.

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon.

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him.

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face.

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her.

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-”

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face.

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth.

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him.

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly.

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.”

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed.

“But Aunt Sally-”

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly.

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years.

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible.

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids…

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore.

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood.

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by.

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill.

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek.

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time.

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first.

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself.

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly.

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement.

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again.

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there.

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea.

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child.

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head.

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her.

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle.

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher.

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke.

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be.

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not.

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there.

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother.

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband.

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped.

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope?

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida

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fornasedensgudar · 2 years ago

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A while back ago I had a lil rant about the pagan/heathen/witch community and made this list with my friend about some problematic aspects about our craft/faith/practise or what ever you call it to help pepole who are new to it.

Idk if it any of worth or if anyone will bother to read all this but I hope its somehow helpfull for you new ones to this path.

(Pardon my 🇬🇧, im a 🇸🇪)

1. Not every polytheist does magic or has an intrest in it and thats ok.

2. Not every norse heathen knows runes or has to know every Rune and meanings to have a meaningfull relation to the gods and nature.

3. Not every raven is a sign of Odin, sometimes it just means you saw a raven and thats just as good if not better if you ask me.

4. Being able to quote havamal in old norse or know every myth and kenning of the gods is good. But does not mean you have a stronger spirital connection the land and the gods then those who dont know it all. It just means you are good at reading. And that in it self is something you should take pride in.

5. A good acorn and some dirt is just as good if not better than any long ritual with ancient chantings sourounded by a collection of crystals.

6. The pebble you find on a walk can shine just as fine on your altar, as the amethyst that was mined and payed for.

7. Your altar dont have to look Nice, it just need to feel Nice.

8. An offering dont have to be big to work. It just have to mean something.

9. Offering one loaf of bread you baked with your own two hands, is worth more than five loafs you payed somone to bake.

10. Just because a pebble dont have a story, does not mean it never had one. And just because a star has a story, does not mean its a good one.

11. If all nature is holy, that includes the parts you dont like or find nasty. Yes even ticks and spiders, mud and horrnets. No one said you had to like holy things.

12. Your body is a temple yes, but you and only you decides what rites and offerings are right the god within said temple.

13. You can still be a drunk horny ape and be spiritual.

14. No illustration of the gods is more corect or more true to their form.

But then there is no garantee everyone will see who its meant to be. And thats ok.

15. Doing spirtual junk and practise magic or healing does not make you more enlightened...

16. Just because you wrote a book about magic, healing and spiritual matters, does not make it a good book or you a good author.

17. Just because someone you look up to said it, does not make it more right. It just means they said it.

18. Making this list to remind the pagan/witch/heathen community to hummble them selfs does not make me better. Im also doing this to just remind myself. Im not better or wiser than any of you lot.

19. Dont ever expect to have your craft respected if you dont give that same respect back to others.

20. It does not matter how old or big your coven or group is. If it has toxic and harmfull parts that clearly hurt and or make pepole unhappy. Then its ok to criticize it. Age or size does not make it untuchble.

21. If a craft or faith says its all about nature but cant change its ways, then it has clearly missed a very important thing about how nature works.

22. Every rock is an altar and every forest is a temple.

23. For every horn of mead you offer to the gods, you should plant at least one seed.

24. If all in this world has a spirit and is alive, does not mean you cant take space and exist and live in it.

25. Its not about beliving. Its about to experience and to perceive. That if you ask me, is the core of animism and polytheism.

#polytheism #heathen #pagan polytheism #norse polytheism #pagan #paganism #fornsed #nordic animism #animism #wicca #witch #spiritual

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gettinshiggywithit · 11 months ago

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𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

Summary: In which you find out loki’s secret and he fears your reaction.

Pairing: loki x reader

Genre: fluff ,maybe a hintt of angst

W/c: 928

A/N: saw someone talking abt jotun loki and my brain went brrrrr.Wrote this at 5/6 in the morning on 0 sleep so apologies in advance!If yall liked it id love to hear your thoughts

Marvel MasterList

A frost giant.unbelievable.

Loki stood in odin’s vault,hands firmly gripping the handles of the casket. He watched as his skin changed to an icy blue,an equally icy chill running down his spine. The all father had conveniently fallen into the odin-sleep.

“Leaving me when i need him…typical” he said to himself. It wasn’t like he had an audience and with him being the acting ruler,and his mother being in his ‘father’s’ chambers, he needn’t fear intrusion.

The only person aware of his little secret,who was awake anyway, was his mother and he intended to keep it that way.for as long as he could.

Eliminating thor would guarantee him the throne and by destroying jotunheim,he’d garner enough of the public’s love to hopefully keep his throne,should his secret come to light.

‘Does heimdall know?’ He wondered to himself.

‘No matter,He can be dealt with if necessary”

Loki was so lost in thought that he missed the,

“There you are!” You huffed out.

You marched on upto him and noticed he wasnt…himself.

At this sudden revalation, you started taking quieter,more measured steps towards the boyfriend-shaped figure in front of you.

You let out a tentative “loki?” To which he jolted, his hands immediately letting go of the casket and his now-red eyes staring at you with both surprise and slight fear. Not fear of you,but the fear of being discovered.

“Y/n, dont…dont do that.” He said letting out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding in. And when you didn’t reply, instead merely staring at him in bewilderment, he suddenly remembered how he looked. He stumbled backwards, his hands flying to brace himself against the stand of the artefact behind him.

His finger gently brushed against the casket and the fading blue returned once again.

Noticing this, he pulled his hands to his front.clasping them and lookin on at you,awaiting your reaction.

What would you do? Yell at him? Leave him? Threaten to tell the rest of asgard?

All the worst possibilities ran around his head and he began to tear up.

He was broken out of his turbulant thoughts by your hand brushing against his cheek.

He was shocked, to say the least.

Of all the reactions he’d thought up,this wasnt one.

He leaned into your touch,fearing this would be the last time he would feel it,your soft cold hand against his wretched skin.

“What is this loki?” You ask in a whisper,staring at him with not fear,not anger,but wonder and curiosity.

You were now stood quite close to eachother not impossibly so, but quite.

“I-“

“Were you cursed?”

“In a manner of speaking…y-”

“Does it hurt?”

You knew what he was,you’d seen frost giants before so it wasn’t illiteracy that made you disregard his current state.

You really were asking him if he was okay as he stood before you, a blue monster,kin to those you’d fantasised about killing in your youth…

Was this real?

He needed to know it was,so he spelled it out for you,

“Y/N,im a Frost giant.”

He let out in a voice laden with melancholy,regret and was that fear you heard?

“I know” you merely replied as you traced the patterns on his skin.

At this he pulled your hand away and held it.

“What do you mean you know?! Y/N im a monster! Dont you understand!”

Your expression shifted to one of annoyance,another unforseen reaction.

“I understand quite clearly loki.”

“Then why haven’t you-”

“Why haven’t i run out screaming? Cursing you? Why havent i tried to kill you?”

His silence told you that was exactly what he was about to ask, more or less.

You sighed before stepping towards him and placing his hand on your shoulder,he flinched but didn't move otherwise.

You took this as your go-ahead and wrapped him in a hug.

You stayed there for a good three minutes in silence before saying,

“Loki,i dont give a single ratatosk whisker if you’re a jotun.i love you.”

You pulled away at that to look him in the eyes and saw the tears forming there.

As they fell from his eyes,you caught them with your thumb and placed in on tongue.

Now it was his turn to look at you in confusion.

You waited a beat before saying, “for a jotun you cry asgardian tears.”

He smiled at that,scoffing at your antics.

“You’re ridiculous”

“Yeah well im also yours so get used to it” you said as you went in for another hug and this time he hugged back holding you like you were the most precious thing in all the nine realms,and to him,you were.

“Are you sure?” He whispered out,almost like he hoped you wouldnt hear.

“Always.And never forget it” you said,pressing a soft kiss to his lips which had him chasing yours as you pulled away.

“Why did you come down here anyway?” He asked finally realising it was rather odd for you to have come to the artefacts vault;unless there was a purpose for your visit that is.

“Ah yes, Frigga was calling you.” You said pulling away and pulling him by the arm towards the exit.

“Alright then” he said as he let you drag him out of the chamber that held his secrets. You really were something else,and he’d never been more grateful for anyone in his entire life.

Tag list(open):- @diagonal-queen

#📚 Jaya’s tales #🐍 loki #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x gn!reader #loki fluff #whump writing #loki whump #loki x reader angst #loki x reader fluff #mcu x reader #marvel x reader #loki drabble #loki oneshot

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thelovelylolly · 1 year ago

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Comfort

Summary: you go comfort Loki in the dungeons after Frigga's funeral. Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mention of death, little argument but its itty bitty, reader is implied to be more fem and has similar abilities to loki, let me know if i missed anything :) Notes: in honor of loki season two coming out this week, here's loki content! i love him so much and this will probably get worse when the show comes out (I MEAN THOSE SHOTS OF HIM IN A SUIT????? YALL) also i wrote this with one of my ocs in mind, so sorry if there are any more specific details than usual :)

Loki watched as you glided down the dungeon stairs, making a gesture to the guards to put them at ease. You stopped in front of his cell, your body and usual outfit concealed by a black, mourning cloak. Loki could see dried tear streaks on your cheeks, but your expression was neutral.

“What are you doing here?” He spat, pacing slowly.

“I’m here to see if you’re okay,” you replied calmly.

Loki scoffed. “You come down here to comfort me instead of fighting against my father’s orders, like you always did, so I could mourn my mother with the rest of Asgard.”

“I did try, but Odin didn’t budge.”

“Well, you didn’t try hard enough.”

A tense moment of silence followed, then you turned to the guards.

“Please let me into the prince’s cell,” you ordered in a calm voice.

The guards quickly obeyed and you stepped in, the cell closing you in with Loki. Then, you used your magic to shield the both of you from the rest of the world, casting an illusion to everyone outside the cell and sound proofing it.

“I know you’re frustrated-“

“Frustration can’t begin to describe what I’m feeling!” He exclaimed, causing you to flinch at his tone, but you quickly regained your composure.

“But you did this to yourself, Loki! You weren’t able to go to Frigga’s funeral because of your decisions and the consequences of them!” You paused to take a deep breath. “I was there when she died. I tried to defend her, but they were stronger than I am. I wish…I wish I took that blade instead of her, but I can’t change that, just like how I can’t change what you did and your punishment.”

Loki’s cold gaze softened a bit, his jaw clenching as he turned his back to you. “You don’t understand any of this, darling.”

“Maybe you forget that she was the closest thing I had to a mother. She is the reason I met you, that I allowed myself to fall for you. It’s because of her that we were allowed to court, Loki. I do understand this, I understand you.”

Loki didn’t answer, allowing you to keep going.

“The first night you spent down here, I went to Frigga. I needed to talk to someone about you, about my feelings, and I knew she would be there for me. After I talked things out, she told me she had hope for you. She wanted you to be better, and she wanted to free you from here as soon as she thought you had learned your lesson. She loved you, she wanted you and I to run away from Asgard to live our lives peacefully and happily. She…she wanted us to be married and start a family like we dreamed about. She wanted you, her son, to be happy.”

You saw Loki’s shoulders start to tremble as soft sobs escaped his lips. He quickly crumbled to the ground, his hands covering his face as he broke down into sobs. You quickly went around him and crouched in front of him, your cloak pooling around you two. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he hid his face in your shoulder, soaking the fabric of your cloak with his tears.

You held him tightly, running a hand through his hair comfortingly. You felt tears of your own start to form, but you blinked them away quickly. You had cried enough, now you needed to comfort your love.

After a few minutes like that, Loki pulled his face away and met your gaze. You cupped his cheeks and wiped away any stray tears. The sight of his bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks broke your heart.

“I love you, Loki,” you whispered softly, your voice shaking with emotion.

“I love you, too,” he replied just as quietly.

His hands fell to your waist, holding you close as he pressed his forehead to yours. You didn’t kiss, neither of you wanted to. You just wanted this. The quiet, the closeness, the vulnerability. Loki was scared to show this much emotion to you, even though you two were in love. He didn’t want to burden you or make you think he was weak. Maybe he did regret what he did, but only because he nearly lost you.

“Loki…” You said softly, trailing off as you slowly pulled away from him.

“I know,” he replied, letting you go.

You stood up and walked past Loki, who was still on his knees on the floor.

You stopped, looking over your shoulder. “My illusion will last for at least another hour. I will be back tomorrow.”

With that, you left the cell. Loki watched as you glided up the stairs, your cloak trailing behind as you disappeared and left him alone once again.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufesyon x reader #loki fanfic #loki fanfction #loki laufeyson fanfic #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel fanfic

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wrathkitty · 5 months ago

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Story/Series Masterlist

Hellooo! Thanks for stumbling onto this. My fandoms primarily are The Mandalorian and Star Trek: TNG, but there's also The Last of Us, Avengers, Portal 2, and The Good Place. I try to stick as closely to the original source material as possible, I know the canon and the characters, and probably throw in more Easter eggs and other blink-and-you'll-miss-it references than I should.

If you're one for strong and snarky Readers/OFCs (here there be swearing), slow burns (envision a glacier), angst (it's a good kind of pain), and humor (lulz), then this is probably a good place to come waste some time. 👻

* Current works in progress *

Short Debts Make Long Friends - (The Mandalorian; Din Djarin/Reader)

An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure. 1.6k kudos on Ao3. POV Mando and Reader.

Why Don't You Sit Right Down and Stay Awhile - One-shots from "Short Debts" that admittedly are the walking definition of 'crack treated seriously'

- Can Your Helmet Play Elevator Music? - Oh, This is Much Worse- ...It was a Custom Piece

Completed stories:

Hello, My Dear - (Star Trek: TNG; Reader/Q)

Stories of the life and times of Q and his mortal more-than-just-a-friend, Ensign Reader. Because being omnipotent doesn’t mean a thing when it comes to relationships. POV Q and Reader.

As Q Like It - One-shots from "Hello, My Dear," which primarily remain within in TNG but also wander into Voyager and other territories, but none beyond the Neutral Zone

- Shoo, Q! - TNG; Lower Decks; POV Ensign - Does the Other Party In This Scenario Go By Some Form of Epithet, Identification, or Nomenclature? - TNG; POV Data - You Have Three Choices - TNG; POV Q - That Wasn't the Actual Question - TNG; POV Reader - Do I Always Have to Have a Reason to Stop By? - TNG; POV Reader - I Haven't the Vaguest Idea of What You're Talking About - TNG, POV Q - Silver Q - Picard, POV Q

To My Brother, Thor, Whom I Slept With - (Avengers; Loki & Thor)

One-shots about the shenanigans of a young Loki and Thor, and why the young princes of Asgard are the best birth control ever. Primarily Loki's POV, but also occasionally POV Odin and Frigga regretting their choices)

- Great Aunt Snotra's Funeral- A Midnight Lesson in the Current Events of Midgard - The People vs. The Brothers Odinson, or That Time Loki Thought It Was a Bright Idea to Appear on Daytime TV - One Flew Over the Ravens' Nest (Even the Gods Can Be - Psychoanalyzed)

Come Downstairs and Say Hello - (Portal 2; Chell/Wheatley)

With Wheatley in tow, Chell might as well write "DISPENSE PRODUCT HERE" on her shirt and throw herself in front of a turret...but she can't leave him behind, either. POV Chell, Wheatley, and GLaDOS.

Other works in progress that I don't have the heart to admit to myself are probably on permanent hiatus:

Bang, Zoom, Straight to the Moon - (The Last of Us; Joel/OFC)

Joel has been more than happy to let Ellie sabotage his love life since their arrival in Jackson, but all bets are off after she learns that the town’s most recent arrival is a former astronaut. The new gal is smart, single, pretty, and good with a gun. And she’s gone to mother *fucking* space. Joel POV.

Lucky Denver Mint - (Logan Lucky; Clyde Logan/OFC)

The stars over Boone County never looked brighter than the night a pretty astrophysicist walked into Clyde Logan’s bar. Clyde POV.

The Sleazy Place - (The Good Place)

The possibility of Michael never making into the Good Place is why Janet [literally] reassemble the Soul Squad - and what they owe Michael is why Eleanor doesn't hesitate to team up with her friends one last time to try and save their favorite former fire-squid. Eleanor POV. ...She just needs to finish that margarita first.

Like what you see? Please reblog and comment! I love comments.

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the-au-collector · 7 months ago

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Scalan Names

So something I've noticed about Missing Link is the names. It's very interesting that they're Roman myth names when the rest of the times we've seen Scala, we've only seen Scalans having Norse names. Especially since we have characters like Freya, whose name does come from Norse Myth, walking around with characters like Remus (and Neptune). I doubt Nomura did this on accident, so I'm curious about the implications of the Norse vs Roman names in Missing Link.

So I went back through Dark Road and Union X and gathered up all the characters with mythological names (yes this includes Missing Link beta content and theorizing). It's a long post, but stay tuned for the end where I've thrown all my Remus thoughts:

Skuld

So in Norse Myth, Skuld is a Norn. Specifically, the Norn of the future. The Norns also closely resemble the Fates from Greek myth, which is interesting. I find it really interesting that Skuld is named specifically after the Norn of the future when her game takes place in the distant past. Obviously all the Union Leaders travel to the future--so why is Skuld the only one named after a myth figure that specifically has to do with that? I can't wait to see how this all lines up later, since so far we've only had one game with her in it.

Baldr

He's the important guy, both in Myth and in Dark Road. In myth, he's the son of Odin that's deceived and killed by Loki, however it is Hod who deals the fatal blow. I feel like his name lines up with his myth inspiration very nicely--he's tricked by darkness, which ultimately leads to his death. However, one really interesting thing is that Baldr is said to survive Ragnarok, so does that mean we'll be seeing Baldr again someday?

Bragi

So Bragi is interesting. In myth, he's actually a poet who was diefied as the god of poetry. He's also known for his wisdom. The really interesting thing though is that myth Bragi's wife, Idunn, had a tree with the apples of youth, which keep the gods from aging. Really interesting that Dark Road's Bragi is actually Luxu, a guy who does not die... Clues lying in plain sight, really.

Vor

There really isn't much to find about Norse Myth's Vor, other than Vor was a minor goddess of wisdom. I just think it's cool that Vor's name is based off of a goddess of wisdom, since Vor's whole arc in Dark Road is figuring out who's right and what she wants to do.

Hermod

So in Norse myth, Hermod is the messenger god and a son of Odin. He also uses magic. In one particular myth, Hermod tried to rescue Baldr from the underworld, but ultimately failed. He has other myths where he acts like a messenger too. I don't really have much to say about Hermod's name inspiration and how it ties to Dark Road, but it is interesting how Hermod dies immediately after visiting the Underworld trying to find Baldr.

Urd

I... I have the least to say about her (at least about the main DR cast). In myth, Urd is a fate like Skuld, but she's the fate of the past. It's just weird she's named after the fate of the past and not the present. Or maybe not since this game is technically Xehanort's past...

Odin

Can you tell he was based off of Odin? He has the long beard, he's old, he's got a long coat, and a wide-brimmed hat (those are how Odin is usually represented). In myth, Odin is the god of war and also poets. He's got a horse named Sleipnir and was a magician. I know there are also theories floating around about Yen Sid potentially being Master Odin and honestly? Yen Sid fits the description.

Heimdall

In myth, Heimdall is the protector of the rainbow bridge and the entrance to Asgard. He also had heightened senses and didn't need to sleep. He and Loki actually ended up killing each other in myth as well. I have even less to say about the upperclassmen, honestly, especially ones like Heimdall who are only in a few scenes anyways. It is ironic that Heimdall was killed by darkness, though (and darkness, in my eyes, takes up a very Loki-like roll).

Helgi and Sigrun

I'm merging these two since their myths are very connected. So basically, Helgi was a Norse hero figure that is the son of Sigmund. He fell in love with a woman named Sigrun and ends up getting killed by her brother, Dragr. Sigrun eventually dies of sadness, but both she and Helgi are reborn. Sigrun is reborn into a Valkyrie named Kara whereas Helgi gets to keep his name. It's very interesting that their myths have aspects of reincarnation tied to them, which isn't true for any of the other DR characters. It's also very curious that Sigrun got a new name... and DR Sigrun looks like Strelitzia...

But that's just a theory a--

Vala

So Vala isn't an actual mythological figure, though they do show up in myths a lot. Basically, a vala is a priestess/shaman. In myth, they could use magic, see the future, and influence battles. I don't have much to say about Vala despite her being one of the more interacted with members of the upperclassmen, but she does appear to be the most wise/level-headed of the group.

Vali

I could have sworn Vali was a girl but Vali is, indeed, a guy in Dark Road. Anyways, in myth Vali is the son of Odin who was born to avenge Baldr and killed Hod. Vali does survive Ragnarok as well. It's just interesting how he has a reverse to his myth inspiration, considering be dies to Baldr and Darkness, though he does try to avenge Hod's death.

Hoder

The blind god of the night in Norse myth and son of Odin. Hod was actually tricked into killing Baldr and so was told by the other gods to avenge Baldr's death by fighting Vali. Vali won, Hod died, but when Ragnarok happened, both Hod and Baldr returned and survived Ragnarok. Very interesting implications when it comes to Kingdom Hearts...

Vidar

In myth, he's the son of Odin and was also fated to survive Ragnarok. He killed the wolf Fenrir, who's Loki's son who ate Odin. That's about all that's known about Vidar from myth. I do think it's very ironic that DR Vidar died to a Heartless when his myth inspiration killed Fenrir. Also interesting that his is the name of someone fated to survive Ragnarok despite him dying in DR...

Sigurd

I nearly forgot him but here he is! His name in myth is Siegfried. He's a hero figure who fought a dragon and awakened a valkyrie from sleep. In some stories, he's of noble blood but was an orphan. He's also associated with the ancient Germanic princess, Brunhild, who had Old Norse origins. Basically the story of Brunhild is that she vowed to marry the man who could beat her in strength, and Siegfried was able too, but he won her for another person. Brunhild got vengeful, and Siegfried died. Not every story of Brunhild leads to his death though.

He's a lot more interesting than I thought, especially for a character who shows up for like 2 lines in Union X's secret ending lol. Likelihood is, he's from another Society or the people in charge, and he welcomed Brain in Scala ad Caelum (this we know). Judging from his myth and what we already know about him, he's likely of noble or blue blood and is probably a Keyblade wielder. I wonder if we'll see any grand feats like fighting a dragon or if he'll die in Missing Link, though?

Freya

I can't really say much for Freya either since she's so new and her game isn't even out yet. She is the sister of Freyr in Norse Myth and is the goddess of love, fertility, battle, and death. So just keep in mind that she's an option for the tragic siblings trope.

Now for the really interesting guys!

Nept

I've decided to start with Neptune since Remus is a whole can of worms. So Neptune is the Roman god of the sea, and used to be just the god of freshwater until the Romans identified him with Poseidon. His myths are the same as Poseidon's: get eaten by his dad, get vomited out, draw sticks to see which realm he gets, yada, yada, yada. He was loyal to the Roman Zeus, Jupiter, and married Salacia, though he had many affairs. He also created horses and bulls!

We really don't know much about Nept since he only has a few released scenes so far, but the fact that he's probably named after the Roman god of water is interesting (i've said it before but Aqua's ancestor??? Perhaps???). I'm a little worried about the loyalty aspect though...

Remus

This. This fucking can of worms. Remus do you even know the implications of your own name?

So the myth of Remus and Romulus! Their mother, Rhea Silvia, was the daughter of the king of Alba Longa, Numitor. Numitor got removed from the throne by his brother, Amulius, who forced Rhea to take a vow of chastity by becoming a Vestal Virgin. Well she ended up having the god of war's, Mars', twin children: Remus and Romulus. They were cared for by Mars' sacred animals (she-wolf and woodpecker) and taken in by farmers, Faustulus and Acca Larentia. When the twins grew up, they killed Amulius and restored their grandfather to the throne. The twins then went on to found a city, and after Romulus built some walls around it, he killed Remus, and the city was named Rome after Romulus.

So this myth is interesting for a number of reasons. First and foremost: the siblings thing. Tragic siblings being a staple of the KH mobile games and all leaves Remus and Romulus perfect candidates for being the tragic siblings. This is also why I'm so worried about Remus being late to showing Player the Astral Realm because--is he already dead? His mythological self dies! It's practically written in the Book of Prophecies at this point!

However the second most important thing about the Remus and Romulus myth is how Remus and Romulus are the grandsons of a king who got overthrown. What if, somehow, the Baroque Society is the very last remnant of Ephemer's line/society? Somehow, what if Ephemer's line gets usurped and its last remains of his society dwindles down to at least 4 people (the question is if there's 5 members considering Freya's "another one" line)? After all, the scientists do say the founders' societies. Who are these other founders? Are they even real? What is going on with Scala ad Caelum's governing situation? We already know that it can't be good, but we don't know how bad it is.

Another really interesting thing is that Player specifically, very weirdly, reaches out to Remus when they're by Ephemer's statue. That scene was all shades of odd. Which begs the question--is Remus somehow connected to Ephemer? Is Remus is the descendant of Ephemer, and all these silver-haired characters are just there to throw us off? Did Ephemer's bloodline somehow get usurped? Is Missing Link going to be about reinstating his family line, or watching it all fall to ruin? Is Remus going to get killed by his own brother?

It's just. It's all shades of interesting and worrying at the same time. And I'm not even mentioning Remus' similarities to Lea!

Conclusion

Remus nearly made me forget this post had a point: the differences between Roman and Norse names. I thought maybe there was a connection between the "sons of Odin" thing going on, but no. Baldr and Hermod both are sons of Odin, but Baldr has a gold Master's symbol and Hermod doesn't. Even for the non-sons, Heimdall has a gold Master's symbol but Bragi doesn't.

It's also too early to really tell anything distinct about the new Missing Link characters, since a) we don't see much of them and b) the naming doesn't differentiate them either. Freya is a member of the Baroque Society alongside Remus and Nept. There's no distinction there either. There is no visual disctinction between Freya, Nept, and Remus except for their underclothes, and I'd say those design choices are more geared toward their personalities than anything else. They also don't have Master's symbols (which is another interesting thing. Sigurd doesn't have one either. Do they not exist yet? Are they the symbol of another society?). Even if they did, we still don't really know the difference between silver and gold ones, though one theory is gold = blue blood, silver = non-blue blood.

There is definitely a naming convention going on here, though. It's no coincidence that all of Dark Road's characters have Norse-inspired names, but not all of Dark Road's do. I just really want to crack why there's this distinction. I'm betting it has something to do with these noble houses/blue blood families, though (I'm willing to overlook Xehanort and Eraqus as they existed long before these concepts were even thought up.). For now I'll leave it at that and post this so that we have a bit of a collection of all the name inspirations for our myth-inspired Kingdom Hearts characters in one place.

Also, if anyone knows more about ancient myth than what Google could tell me, please let me know! I absolutely could have missed something!

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anxiousnerdwritings · 2 years ago

Note

Do you remember that ask about platonic yandere siblings Loki & Thor with a sibling who lives on Midgard? Can I request sibling!reader inviting their two brothers for Chrismas the Midgardian style? I would imagine Thor being super excited but totally clueless about the whole thing and Loki only showing up because of their sibling and other then that not wanting any part of it lmao

Yan!Brother!Thor and Yan!Brother!Loki Spending Christmas on Midgard w/Sibling!Reader Headcanons (platonic)

When their beloved sibling decided to make Midgard their new home, taking up permanent residence and choosing to live a day to day life similar to any other Midgardian in complete contrast to their godly title back home on Asgard, Thor and Loki we’re devastated. Their sibling was leaving. They were leaving their parents behind. They were leaving Asgard, the only home they’ve ever known, behind. But most importantly they were leaving Thor and Loki behind.

Out of the two, Thor was the quickest to accept you leaving. Of course it helped with you telling him he and Loki can visit whenever and are always welcomed at your new home, as well as promising that you’ll visit once in a while. Not to mention Frigga did her best to ease both Thor’s and Loki’s distress over the new change. As much as Thor still didn’t like the whole thing he was more tolerable of it now. But Loki was a different case.

Loki absolutely detested your moving to Midgard and abandoning your family, abandoning him. His dislike for Midgard and the Midgardians that inhabit it was already pretty bad but now it’s pure unabashed hatred for the place and people that took his beloved sibling away from him. He is somewhat happy that you said he was welcomed to your new home whenever but it doesn’t fix anything for him whatsoever. You shouldn’t need a ‘new home’ not when you already had one to begin with. To say he’s salty is an understatement, Loki is extremely sulky and resentful of the entire thing altogether and nothing could make him come around to it. The only thing that would make him truly happy is having you back home where you belong.

Also, when Loki first learns about you leaving to Midgard he wholeheartedly believes you’re leaving because of him and his ‘God of Mischief’ antics. There would no doubt be a moment of him bursting into your bedchambers on Asgard, a sobbing and inconsolable mess begging you to stay, that he’ll be good from now on if it means you won’t leave him. He doesn’t care how weak or pathetic he looks and sounds, you’re the only one he ever felt he could allow himself to be this way with because he knew you wouldn’t judge him and you sure as hell wouldn’t tell a soul about it. Even if you did find him pathetic yourself, you at least didn’t utter a word regarding it.

It takes a lot of getting use to now that they don’t have you around. They both miss talking with you, laughing with you, running around and playing games with you (even if all of you were too old for playing games, it was still very much a part of your lives). Thor is a sulking mess, not nearly as boisterous and shining as he was before. Loki doesn’t even feel like playing tricks on any one, let alone Thor and keeps to himself more than ever, barely leaving his own bedchambers unless Frigga comes to drag him out herself.

Speaking of Frigga, she is very much the glue that keeps both Thor and Loki from letting their despair swallow them whole. She assures them that you are doing well, that you are safe and happy but it doesn’t change their moods too much. It does ease them some but it also leads them to miss you all the more. They wish you were safe and happy with them here on Asgard. No matter how frustrating and unwilling either are to pull themselves out of their funk, Frigga never ceases to do what she can to keep them from dwelling too long in the dark.

It’s slow and little by little but eventually Thor is getting back to his usual self and Loki is getting back to his old mischievous habits, albeit they’re a tad bit more cruel but it’s something. It isn’t until Odin announces that you’ll be making a visit to Asgard that they both perk up more than ever since you’ve been gone. Neither can conceal their excitement at being able to see, talk, and touch you. Just being able to be in your presence again has both Thor and Loki ecstatic.

When you’re finally there in the flesh with them again it’s the reunion that all of Asgard had been waiting for with bated breath. Thor can’t help himself and immediately engulfs his precious sibling in a bone crushing hug but they happily accept it having missed him and his infamous hugs. It feels like forever before he’s made to let go courtesy of Loki wanting to finally greet his beloved sibling after being a part for so long. He envelopes you in a hug too, not nearly like Thor’s but it’s still a tight hold. He keeps it more under wraps than Thor had but just wait until there’s no one else around and he’ll be latched on to you like a second skin.

It feels so good to have the three of you together again. Frigga and Odin can’t help but admire the wholesome sight before them. Their little family was back together again and it felt so right.

During their sibling’s entire visit, Thor and Loki are attached to either side of them the whole time. Neither of them step away for any reason and everyone around knows better then to try and pull them away. If someone were to be idiotic enough to try, Thor and Loki put them in their place without hesitation. Nothing is keeping them from missing out on getting to be with their precious sibling again after what’s felt like an eternity without them.

It isn’t until the very last day of their visit, maybe even right before they’re about to leave, that they invite both Thor and Loki to spend what the Midgardians call “Christmas” with them at their new home. Neither Thor or Loki are sure about what this “Christmas” is but the way their eyes lit up and the smile that spread across their lips showed just how much this “Chsirtmas” thing was to them. And who were both Thor and Loki to refuse an invitation to spend even more time with their beloved sibling. Even if Loki could careless about Midgard and the Midgardians, he wouldn’t miss out on this if it meant so much to his sibling.

Thor and Loki would show up a few days in advance before actual Christmas Day just to spend some more time with you and get a feel for what this whole “Christmas” thing was exactly. Thor is excited to not only get to see and be with you but also to take in everything. He may as well be jumping up like a toddler hyped up on sugar. Meanwhile, Loki couldn’t be more uncomfortable and disgusted from what he’s seen so far of Midgard. This was the place you left them and Asgard for? It doesn’t look like much at all, let alone something worth your time.

Once they are at your home and in your company they are greeted to bright lights, an array of odd decor, and a tree heavily decorated from stump to treetop with various shiny and dangling things as well as more lights and some sparkly stuff called ‘garland’. It really is a sight to behold never having seen it before and it certainly appears that you went all out for it. Thor is absolutely captivated by everything he sees and he wants to touch it all but the first ornament he reaches out for breaks within seconds. Meanwhile, as taken aback as Loki is he still isn’t too fazed by it. Honestly you could have all of this and more back home on Asgard. He doesn’t really care about the bright lights, or shiny decorations, or even the stupid ridiculous tree (he of course wouldn’t tell you that). All he wants is to spend time with you and convince you to come home.

After they get all settled you tell them all about what Christmas means to Midgardians and the traditions they follow in regards to it. Thor is all ears, completely captivated by each and every word you say explaining everything. Meanwhile, Loki is also listening intently but he’s much more subtle about it. He still doesn’t get it but if you’re so invested in it then he’ll be along for the ride he supposes.

You tell them all about the foods and deserts they make to eat on the special day, the songs they sing, the cartoons and shows they watch, and last but not least the gift giving that takes place. Everything so far has had both of their attention but that last one about gifts is what really gets them. They didn’t bring you any gifts. They hadn’t thought about it. You didn’t say anything about gifts. Okay, now they’re both inwardly panicking cause they’ve come empty handed. Loki could of course use his magic to give you something but Thor is at a loss. He may even pester Loki into conjuring something up for Thor to give you. But they have a few days to come up with something, right? That’s plenty of time!

The days leading up to Christmas are spent showing both Thor and Loki around Midgard and to your favorite places. You make the point to tell them that around this time of year things get much more hectic then they usually are but you don’t mind too much, if anything you like watching the hustle and bustle. But both Thor and Loki look and feel so out of place, they’re grateful they have you to guide them but they feel completely out of their element, especially Loki.

Christmas Eve is when you spend the whole day prepping for the Christmas Day feats you have planned and what feast it’ll be with Thor there. Both Thor and Loki help where they can with what they can but Loki is the one who ends up doing the better job out of the two only because Thor either ends up breaking something or burning something but he’s content doing whatever as long as he’s involved. Although inevitably the two make a contest out of whatever it is they’re doing, especially if it’s the same task.

Both Thor and Loki are appreciative and happy when you add some Asgardian traditions to the mix, whether with some of the foods and goodies you make or maybe even in some of the home decor they hadn’t noticed before. They’re both very relieved that you haven’t completely cut Asgard out of your life and you have things that remind you of them and your old home.

When it comes time to bake cookies and decorate them, Thor can’t wait. He’s making all different shapes and sizes, decorating them all over the place that by the end of it he’s covered in an array of icing, sprinkles and probably some odd bits of cookie dough. Loki somehow manages to stay clean and pristine through the whole process, not only that but all his cookies are immaculate and even. It may result in a bit of quarrel between the two but you’re able to calm them down.

If you were to wipe some icing on or sprinkle some sprinkles on Loki then he’d just accept it but there will be retaliation and he’ll do the same thing to you. Of course Thor gets involved and by the end of it all of you are more decorated with icing and sprinkles then the actual cookies are.

When met the aspect of wearing matching pajamas or sweaters, Thor is absolutely all for it. Loki takes a bit to come around to putting either on and when he does he does so begrudgingly but really he actually likes it. Especially since you picked them out. If you were to have made the pajama or sweaters yourself then both Thor and Loki would treat them like the most precious and fragile things in existence. They would be so careful wearing them, doing their absolute best to keep them in good condition.

If their sibling were to have gone out of their way to get a small Christmas tree and a few little decorations to put on it so that Thor and Loki could experience decorating a tree alongside their sibling would make them both melt. Thor does his damndest to be gentle and gingerly when putting anything on the tree. He doesn’t want to ruin it and in turn ruin the moment they’re all sharing together. Loki acts like this whole thing isn’t a big deal but deep down it is. Their sibling had already excitedly and impulsively decorated their home and the tree before Thor and himself got there but still wanted to share this part of the tradition with them.

It would really make Loki feel nice and warm inside that they went out and did that for him and Thor. He was working his way to warming up to this whole Christmas thing. But what would make it even better was if it was on Asgard, where the three of you, Frigga and maybe Odin could all be doing this and celebrating together like a family if only you’d come back home. To your real home, leaving this pretend one behind.

When Christmas Day is finally here, your excitement for the day is enough to get Thor and Loki in the spirit. Thor is very much more open and outwardly showing his fondness for it while. While even though Loki is willing to participate and go along with it he still isn’t nearly as fond of the whole aspect as you and Thor are. But seeing you glowing with joy would keep him biting his tongue and going with whatever.

Now when you hand them their gifts that you’ve been desperately trying to keep as much of a surprise as possible both Thor and Loki are excited and anxious to see what you’ve gotten them, especially since they’re pretty sure it’s Midgardian related. No matter what it is they both would absolutely cherish it to no end. Even Loki who could careless about Midgard and everything to do with it because it took you away from him would be utterly infatuated with what you gifted him. As long as it’s from you and the fact that you looked so worried about how either of them would react to their gifts, in particular keeping more of a close eye on him and his reaction specifically, that it automatically makes his gift the best thing he’s ever received from anyone.

Thor is also extremely elated with his gift. You may have to tell him what it is or how it works but he loves it nonetheless and it will become his most prized possession. As would Loki’s gift becoming Loki’s very own prized possession that he would keep in the safest place where only he could have access to it.

After that it’s time for your gifts. Both Thor and Loki take out the gifts they had very quickly and sloppily put together for you. Thor’s wrapping was of course messy and scrunched up but it was obvious he had tried his very best. Meanwhile, of course Loki’s wrapping was immaculate probably having used his magic to do it for him but still it was lovely all the same. Handing the gifts off to you, Thor and Loki sit back anxiously awaiting your own reaction similar to how you had been earlier. They doth wait with bated breath hoping that you love what they rushed to put together for you.

They both got you something to remind you of not only them but also Asgard as a whole. They had even gone back to Asgard at some point and gotten Frigga to add her own gifts into the mix as well as Heimdall and a few others. As much as Thor wanted you to come back home he also realized just how truly happy you seemed during your visit when talking about Midgard and your adventures there. Asgard would always be there for you but while you were making a home on Midgard you may as well be surrounded but things to remind of your original home and the family that was there waiting for you.

Loki wants you to come back home no matter what and he would be the one to drag you back. But having talked again with mother and hearing her explain things he supposed he could wait for a bit before trying to enact any attempts at being you home. He also gifted you something that would remind you of him and of him so you’d never forget about what was there for you when you were finally over this Midgardian phase. It would be something you could always wear; a ring, necklace, bracelet/cuff, a hair piece, broach, etc. But it wouldn’t be any ordinary piece, it would be fitted with the most valuable and beautiful jewel or jewels found in all of the nine realms. Not to mention Loki has definitely used his magic to do something to it to keep you and him connected without you knowing about it. Whether it’s to keep track of you and wherever you may be, or it’s had a protective spell cast on it to keep you safe, or maybe it allows him to hear and feel your heartbeat so he can feel closer to you while being so far apart.

Both Thor and Loki would freak out if their sibling were burst into tears at the gifts they got them and the people from Asgard they brought into it. The homesickness would really kick in after all of that. Thor and Loki would both rush to comfort their sibling and calm them down. If their sibling were to make some wholesome comment about family being the best gift of all or something like that it would have Thor smiling like an idiot and Loki smiling softly at them.

The rest of the day would be filled with fun and laughter. Thor would of course have to tell you about how much difficulty Loki had trying to wrap his gift for you and very loudly might I had. It would be even funnier if Loki’s perfect and pristine gift was actually wrapped by Thor while Thor’s scrunched up and messily wrapped gift was Loki’s actual wrapping job. Loki would be utterly ashamed that Thor threw him under the bus like that but he would get him back later. Probably with a snowball to the face cause of course there has to be a snowball fight. And making snow angels but that’ll be saved for after the carnage that takes place when the snowball fight starts up.

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grievedeeply · 11 months ago

Text

the less time, the better. pt 8.

PREVIOUS | NEXT — SERIES TAGLIST | GENERAL TAGLIST

pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: still reeling from the events of what happened on niflheim, you grapple with having heimdall by your side while surrounded by people who hate him.

notes: thank you all so much for the continued love and support on this silly little series. this is taking so long because i fluctuate in and out of my god of war obsession.. so i'm very sorry for making you all wait forever lol. tagged everyone who was tagged last time, but if you're no longer interested please let me know! thank you again and please enjoy this chapter and the canon divergences <3

your father didn't know who he was at first— heimdall. he stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few moments then turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening as soon as he did so. you could feel his presence behind you. you could tell he felt out of place, scared.. these people, this man standing in front of him was the one who killed his brother, his nephews. even if he was never particularly close to them in the first place.. they all meant something to someone, didn't they?

did he? did he mean something to anyone? if kratos killed him right then and there.. would someone back in asgard care? would his father mourn him?

he shoved the thought out of his head and kept focused on the task at hand. the man in front of him had yet to pull out a weapon, so he didn't either. instead, his eyes drifted to you, only for you to be looking at him already.

"who is this?" your father's voice rang out in the silence, echoing throughout the branches of the yggdrasil. "that's.. uh," you chuckled awkwardly, lips pressed together in a thin line as you turn your focus back to him. "let's get home first, yeah?" you changed the subject, deciding that having him sit down for this whole conversation would be better than having it here.

he only grunted, still eyeing him suspiciously.

deciding to take the initiative, you gestured for him to follow after you. he was stuck here now, at least for the time being, and you know odin would want him back. with him at sindri's.. you had a feeling that the environment would be far from a calm one. you wanted to groan at that realization. why did you have to reach out to him like that? it would've been fine if he was still there!

the gateway door opened and you walked through, the feeling of warmth washing over you as you did so. heimdall followed after you and your father came close behind, his eyes still focused on him.

this would be awkward, and this would be horrible. what kind of reasonable explanation was there for an aesir god to be here? you supposed the only thing to do was tell the truth and hope that they would understand. but would they, really? heimdall wasn't their friend. they didn't know him like you did.

they didn't see that vulnerable side of him that you saw back on niflheim. that conversation replayed over and over in your mind as you pushed the door open to sindri's house. this would be horrible, you told yourself.. but you'd get through it. you got through everything.

"y/n!" you heard atreus' voice approach you, arms immediately wrapping around you as you got inside. you chuckled, returning his hug after recovering from the impact of him running at you. "i missed you," you told him, pulling away enough to look at him. "i missed you-" he cut himself off, brows furrowing as his eyes shifted from you to heimdall, who looked incredibly uncomfortable by this entire situation.

"who's that?" he asked, looking back at you. he pulled away, tilting his head as he took in heimdall's appearance. his eyes widened as he settled on the horn on his back and he turned his head to look at you once more. "don't-" you cut him off before he could say anything else, lips pursed into a fake smile. he blinked a few times and let out a sigh.

"heimdall?" freya's voice sounded out from across the house, hands on her hips as she walked towards you. you heard your father grunt again, in frustration this time. you expected he would have more to say about this whole thing, but he seemed suspiciously silent.

"frigg," heimdall spoke up for the first time since arriving on the branches of the yggdrasil. "don't call me that," she replied without missing a beat. "what is he doing here?" she asked you. you knew she had little personal history with him.. but she surely didn't like him all the same. anyone associated with odin was horrible in her book.

"i didn't mean to.. bring him with me," you muttered. by now, the entire house surrounded you. atreus had left to go pick up mimir from your father's room, knowing that he would want to watch whatever happened. "it was an accident, really." you sighed, scratching at the back of your neck.

"an accident?" sindri said. "it should've only been one person.." he murmured. you assumed it was directly only to himself than to you or anyone else as he eyed heimdall. "can he leave?" brok's voice rang out, arms crossed over his chest. "he ain't supposed to be here," he continued after a pause, referring to your obvious plan to kill odin. you were sure he knew about that already.

you let out a breath. this had been going better than you'd expected.

"no." you heard your father say from behind you, deep baritone echoing throughout the confines of the house. "we use him."

"what?" atreus asked, brows furrowed. in his hand, mimir seemed to already know what he was suggesting.

"we keep him here. begin ragnarok under our terms. use him as leverage."

heimdall laughed, shaking his head. "if you think the allfather will come for me, you'd be sorely mistaken."

it seemed like, in your time away from asgard, he had taken some time to think about his relationship with his father. had he finally realized that he only ever wanted to use him as a tool? he had never cared for him. did he know that, now?

"he will want the horn." your father muttered, eyes narrowing at heimdall as they had done so many times before. you swore you could see something fall in his eyes at the realization that he was right. he wouldn't want his son. he would want the horn.

he fell silent, clearly unhappy. there was a part of you that wanted to rub it in his face— the fact that you were right— but the other wanted to comfort him. you pushed the thought aside, your eyes focusing in on the rest standing around you.

sindri's expression was a wary one. an aesir, in his house? you were sure he hated the thought of it, but he didn't speak up to voice his concerns about it either. brok looked like he wanted to punch heimdall then and now and freya's expression almost matched his.

freyr had been suspiciously quiet the entire time, but that silence was quickly broken. "no," he laughed, shaking his head. "his family burned me alive." he held out his arms in front of him, eyes trailing down to look at his burnt skin that had never fully healed. "sorry, but no. it's a no from me." he said after a pause.

freya seemed torn on the whole idea. you knew she had only recently mended the relationship she had with her brother, and disagreeing could put another rift between them. she pursed her lips. "if he gets me closer to killing odin, so be it." she said.

"fine," mimir spoke. "but i won't like it!" he continued after a brief pause.

you heard tyr sigh from where he stood, his eyes studying heimdall who had still yet to say anything else since your father pointed out how odin would want the horn back. "this isn't a good idea," he settled on saying, eyes shifting over you and to your father who now stood next to you.

"i say we do it," atreus chimed in, cutting him off from saying anything else.

you felt their eyes on you, all waiting for your thoughts. your gaze trailed over to him, lips pursed. would it be better here for him? could he eventually be an ally? would he ever want to be? you could only imagine the turmoil he was dealing with in his mind. his bright purple eyes met yours briefly, and you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat.

"yeah, okay." you concluded, awkwardly looking around at everyone else. you could only hope that this was the right decision. a decision that led you and everyone else down the right path.

"that settles it, then!" brok exclaimed. "majority rules, he stays." he stated.

freyr looked uncomfortable and you felt bad for making him deal with this. you understood why he didn't want him around.. but he could help. he could, if he wanted to.

with the conversation concluded, everyone split apart, looking over their shoulder as if heimdall would attack them right then and there. you cleared your throat. the only people next to you now were him and your father.

"he's alright," you muttered. it was something you would never imagine saying when you first met him, but it was the truth. he was cocky and annoying and full of himself.. but he was alright. your thoughts drifted back to the moment you'd shared in niflheim, how he had looked at you as though you were the only person in the realms he cared about.

your father said nothing in response to you, his eyes now focused on the wall in front of him. you could only watch him walk away, your heart sinking as he did.

you couldn't help but to think you'd disappointed him.

before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, you turned your focus back to heimdall. he looked a little more grounded now and you had wondered what he was thinking about when the entire conversation was happening. you cleared your throat, chest feeling heavy at the entire situation.

"c'mon." you told him, gesturing for him to follow you. you led him out the front door and onto the branches of the yggdrasil again. everything felt much lighter than it did with your father.

"your father," he cut himself off, swallowing. "he is right, y'know. you were right." he murmured, gaze stuck onto the ground beneath his feet. "everything i did, i did to make him proud." he admitted with a sigh, looking up towards the endless purple above the two of you.

you had brought him to the garden on the side of the house, a place you spent a lot of time at before you ever went to asgard. "i know," you told him, turning your head to look at him. a sigh escaped your lips as you took his hand in your own.

"he wouldn't dream of coming for me." his voice fell to a whisper. "he wants.. the horn." he laughed in disbelief. "i dedicated my entire life to him and i got nothing in return. but why do i still feel.. "

"feel what?"

"guilty. for thinking this way." he replied after a pause.

"you shouldn't. you were.. manipulated, heimdall." his name fell from your lips easily, but he was always happy to hear you say it anyways. "he used you. it's what he does. he uses people." you continued. "but you're his son. it's.. not your fault, for believing that he loved you."

"he never loved me, did he?"

you pursed your lips, deciding to squeeze on his hand instead of saying anything else. in your eyes, the answer was no. odin loved power and he would do anything to get it, including using his own sons.

he shook his head. he still didn't want to believe it all, but he knew it was all true. your words had perhaps gotten through to him too well.

"hey," your voice cut him out of his thoughts and brought him back into reality. "you've got me, now." you hummed, a small smile forming on your lips as you met his eyes. there was something about your gaze that was playful, full of light. something that he needed— that he wanted.

still, he said nothing in response. with every second you spent with him you swore he let you in more. what happened to the less time, the better? you had practically lived off of that statement during your time in asgard. the less time you spent with heimdall, the better it was for you. you supposed the sentiment was still true. after all.. if he wasn't with you on niflheim, perhaps you would be here by yourself and you would never see heimdall again.

that wasn't what you wanted, was it?

it was crazy to think about how quickly your mind changed. he had wiggled his way into your thoughts first, and now he was making himself a home in your heart. a part of you still hated that.

you could only hope everyone else would get used to having him around.

"your father," he started, "he killed my family."

"i know." you replied.

"did you?" he asked.

you immediately knew what he was referring to. while you had no part in the deaths of magni or modi.. your part in baldur's was much bigger. while you didn't strike the killing blow you were certainly part of how he had gotten weak enough to get there.

"i was.. there," you told him. "i.. participated. i wasn't the one who killed him. but i was part of the reason why he died."

heimdall pursed his lips. it wasn't like your answer was surprising. he didn't even know why he cared so much. perhaps it was because baldur was younger than he was. perhaps it was because he had watched him grow up, he had grown alongside him, even. it wasn't like he was close to him. but he would be lying if he said his death didn't bother him.

maybe it bothered him so much because it meant ragnarok. it meant the end, and that scared him more than he would like to admit.

"not a day goes by where i don't think about him." you admitted. your words were truthful. you were certain you would never live a day without picturing his face in your mind. would you always feel as guilty as you do for your part in his death? the answer to it, you didn't know. but you had come to terms with that you had done all the same.

"i'm sure." he said in response, his back pressed up against the wall of sindri's house.

"i'm sorry i brought you here," you changed the topic, "i didn't mean to, really." you sighed.

"it's done now, isn't it?"

you supposed he was right. it was done now, and there was no changing the past.

"still. i'm sorry."

"if you hadn't taken me with you, do you know what i would be doing?" he asked, shifting his gaze to look at you from where he stood. you shook your head.

"i would be patrolling the wall, as i always do. and i would be thinking of you." he laughed, a smile forming on his lips. his grin looked like he was in disbelief. "i would be thinking of you, y/n. that is what i would be doing. but i don't have to do that now, because you brought me here." he breathed out.

"perhaps i should be the one thanking you." he chuckled.

you pressed your lips into a thin line. you thought back to that moment in the mess hall. it felt like forever ago, now. you had teased him, claiming he had feelings for you. t felt like he really did.

would you complain, if he did?

it would be difficult, given the fact that no one in your family was a fan of him. but if you liked him.. why would that matter? after all, your life is your own.

"sounds like you're in love with me." you decided to say, your voice taking on that same tone as it did in the mess hall. only now, it sounded more genuine. less playful and more curious.

"what if i was?" he asked in response, turning his entire body to look at you, now.

"i'd think you were lying."

"i'm not lying. i don't lie." he scoffed. "i do.. feel a certain way for you, y'know." he admitted, purple eyes meeting yours. you swore that you could get lost in them. they almost looked like the sky surrounding you now.

"do you?" you asked.

he nodded.

"i can prove it."

"oh, can you?" you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"would you like me to?" he asked, his voice matching your tone from earlier. suddenly.. this all felt much more serious.

"yeah, okay." you whispered to him.

your words were all he needed to take action. in one swift move, his hand came to rest on your hip and pulled you closer to him. his other hand caressed your cheek, and his lips pressed against yours.

you froze for a moment. 'is this really happening?' you thought to yourself, but it was— it was happening, and you liked that fact. after regaining your composure, you found yourself gripping onto the fabric of his shirt. as you ran your hand over it, you noticed a tear. sewn up now, but a tear, nonetheless.

this was the outfit that he was wearing the day he meant you. this was the shirt you cut through. the shirt that you embarrassed him in, and now the shirt he was kissing you in.

it wasn't very long, but it was enough. he pulled away with a sigh, but quickly pressed his forehead to yours, eyes opening to look at you.

"how is that for proof, hm?" he hummed. you could tell from his voice that he was trying to tease you. you rolled your eyes, shoving at him playfully.

what did this make you?

you didn't know.

maybe everything would be okay after all.

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