#a mimir come to life

[ratatatastic]

i just love how rumpled he looks we joke mackie got woken up and shoved out of the hotel into the arena but have we considered it looks like bobby should be snug as a bug in a rug with a sleep cap and bunny slippers on right now and not in a hockey rink

[mimssysciest]

i always have the worst couples as my comfort ships, what the hell.

the brain rotting levels these DORKS gave me is worse than the time i was obssesed with gopher. (topher bus/gandhi)

i got a doc on my notes app with 40 ideas on fanart for them. (this includes editing, drawings, maybe comics? not sure, these might become eventually fanfics in case i cant draw it right.)

(in case you are a ch mootie and is curious, i had one doc for gopher too, but i registered way fewer. theres around 12 ideas </3)

NO OTHER PAIRING I LIKED MADE ME GET THIS MUCH IDEAS IN SUCH A FEW TIME, im honestly impressed with myself and with how there is such few fan content of them if there is so much potential 😭

i dont rlly blame the fandom for such, their relantioship is mostly played as a joke in the show than a real thing to develop their characters and dynamic, which is fine, not everything needs to be treated seriously, specially if we're talking about a side character and his love interest that is one of the main antagonists in a exagggerated comedy. also, sometimes they have pretty toxic moments, like, vicky literally beats him up and mark attempted to kidnap her and also knew exacly where she lived, thats disturbing! and yet, it makes total sense for them to be toxic, given how awful they both are. i mean, were. because mark actually improves in the later seasons and even becomes friends with timmy, and tbh?? that brings even more potential to them, like, i think their relantioship could either help them improve or make eachother worse. (the latter i refer more to vicky, though, i can see she getting actual character development if she was more grounded, like in the oh yeah cartoons shorts/season 0.)

anyway, i conclude they could've been cute in a weird way, they could be more than what there was in the show.

actually, i hope these freaks die for infesting my thoughts and for making me take a interest in vicky as a character. i always hated her so much until now 😭 but thanks for reading.

ALSO, they need a ship name. HOW COME YALL ARE A CANON COUPLE IN A SHOW THAT IS MORE THAN 20 YEARS OLD AND NEVER GOT ONE?

i thought in calling them "emerald morning star"

• morning stars are medieval weapons that vicky carries with her a lot of times through the show, while mark finds somewhat of ammusement in violence due to his planet's culture. im pretty sure too that in the earlier seasons it was mentioned that he enjoys torturing prisoners, so it definetely fits both of them. 😭 (THESE FREAKS ARE DESPICABLE AND SICK (IN THE EARLIER SEASONS), THATS WHY I LIKE THEM SO MUCH. I FUCK WITH CHARACTERS THAT CLEARLY ARE MADE FOR EACHOTHER OR DESERVE THEIR PARTNER.)

•"morning star" theres "star" in the name, and mark's from outer space erm... also his and, i guess, yuggopotamia's symbol is a UPA styled star.

•morning star is one of the devil's names, which aligns with vicky's evilness.

•"emerald" cuz the signature color of both of them is a shade of green and i love this little detail about them. they really are made for eachother.

not sure about this name, i want to hear more ideas, but i cant think of something that represents them better.

[faeryarchives]

a day in your life in twisted wonderland

synopsis: random twts with your fave first year

pairing: epel felmier x female streamer!reader

other versions (coming soon❗️): second years | third years

first years version: ace trappola | deuce spade | jack howl | sebek zigvolt

second year version: riddle rosehearts | ruggie bucchi | azul ashengrotto

note: sorry if it looks long i had fun with him 😭 i go mimir 😴😪 check out for other fics like this on my blog through #faeryworks 😁 divider credits goes to @cafekitsune ❤️

extra note: yam means you and me and that is epel’s nickname for u

[whackk-kermitt]

How They Proposed

Genre: Headconons

Warnings: I don't know any old Norse or Greek marriage proposal traditions and I don't care enough to Google. 🤷‍♂️

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

Kratos

He literally just asked.

Almost didn't even ask honestly…

“We should marry.(?)”

So straightforward it was almost pathetic.

Yet when you smiled so brightly and accepted he smiled back.

The kind of smile that reaches the eyes.

He'd been so sure you would agree to taking his hand, you had already taken his heart and given him yours.

But there was still a doubt of his worth in the back of his head that whispered about the chance of being rejected.

But it went away when you jumped in his arms and immediately started introducing him as your husband to everyone you meet.

The proposal was so unromantic but the wedding…?

Can you say big fat Greek wedding?

Because absolutely it was.

There weren't a lot of people, really just the close important ones.

He shed a single tear when he saw how much effort you put into cleaning up and dressing up for it.

You had looked so beautiful when you took his hand that it almost felt like a dream he would wake from soon.

Kratos definitely made you cry with his vows to you.

Mimir

If he still had his body he would've loved to take you to your favorite place in all the realms.

He would've wanted to lay out a picnic for you two, with flowers and sweets and the best food he could cook up.

He would've taken his time making it perfect for you.

He almost cried when he realized he wouldn't be able to slide a ring on your finger.

Yet what he did instead was get Kratos to get as much of this dream done as possible!

They made up a reason to get you out there without you getting suspicious.

Kratos had gone out there earlier when he said he was hunting to set up the picnic.

Even if he couldn't eat anything he made sure your favorites were there.

As soon as you were unknowingly led to the picnic Kratos handed Mimir to you and left without a word.

You sat and held mimir as he explained that he wanted to make it romantic but could manage it on his own.

Finally, he asked you to consider being his wife, and before he could even finish you had said yes.

Best Day of his life.

And now it was his favorite place in all the realms.

Sindri

This man went all out on a romantic dinner!

Cooking himself with help from tyr to make sure the food was great.

Setting the candlelit dinner up and kicking everyone out for the night.

He'd got a vase with your favorite flowers for a centerpiece.

He crafted the ring himself.

And when you returned to the house and saw him standing there you know what was coming.

You started crying with joy before he even got to ask.

But you calmed yourself and let him.

He stuttered a lot and bounced on the balls of his feet.

He almost didn't even have the guts to look you in the eye when he asked it.

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

And after you said yes he had one more surprise for you.

Not only taking your hand in his to slide the ring on your finger…

He kissed you for (likely) the first time.

Of course, he washed his face and hands before you guys sat to eat.

Brok

He was terrified.

Plain and simple.

He never thought he'd be the type of man to marry until you brought it out of him.

He had no idea what he was doing.

He took all of Sindri’s advice and put together a romantic dinner.

He grumbled when Sindri told him he absolutely should not be the one cooking…

It was not the most elagent and romantic dinner but it was his best at making something special for you.

It was perfect.

He practiced the words he wanted to say in the mirror for hours.

When you came to him and smiled at the efforts he put into the table set(mostly Sindri’s work) he couldn't find the words.

So he skipped over that and you guys sat to eat.

He just enjoyed talking and dining with you until you reached for his hand and told him you loved him and everything he's done to make you feel special.

Then the words found themselves.

“I love you too, hot stuff. I wanna love you till death tries t’ tear us part. Will you marry me?”

Then he showed you the ring.

He freaked the fuck out when you started crying but smiled when he heard you saying yes through the tears.

Then he started to happy cry a bit.

He made you promise to never tell anyone he did.

Tyr

He took you somewhere far from people and just held your hand in is as you two strolled through the Flora and Fana thriving around you.

He didn't plan exactly what he wanted to say or how he wanted to ask, but he hopped it would please you to hear.

You two walked and talked for a good hour or two.

It was a peaceful and domestic connection between you that made him feel like anything he would say, even if he messed it up, you would understand.

When the two of you reached a particularly stunning view of a waterfall, he allowed you to step ahead and admire the view.

He was almost too wrapped up in admiring you he'd nearly forgotten about the proposal!

He bent down on one knee just behind you and waited.

When you notice he had not come to your side when you called his name you turn to find him smiling up at you.

“My love, I want nothing more than to spend all my days with you. If you'd except me?”

He held up the ring to you.

The sound of your voice saying yes was the most captivating sound he'd ever heard.

He was mesmerized by it for a long moment, smiling so sweetly.

Then he made quick work of sliding the ring on your finger and pulling you in and embrace.

≫ ────── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ────── ≪

I honestly had trouble thinking of something for Heimdall on this one! Sorry! If anyone has ideas for his character, please let me know!

Not proofread.

•Kermitts Masterlist•

[hereforreadandwrite]

Abandoned Part 2

Masterlist

Your mother always knew what was best for you.

She always saw through the intentions of others, warning you against people who were malicious or who simply wanted to take advantage of you, and she encouraged you to go towards those she liked. When you told him about Kratos and he came to give you your wedding ring. Your mother disapproved of him as soon as he walked through the door, but you were too in love to actually listen.

Your mother knew better, you wish you would have listened to her and stayed away, but no. You listened to your heart and went with Kratos, becoming his "wife."

Why did you think he loved you?

“One way or another, something is going to go wrong,” she said. "He's only here because you're young and he's lonely. As soon as he finds a woman he's interested in, he won't stay. All he does is lie and fool you 'illusion. A man like him has an ego. You deserve much more (Y/N)."

Your mother tried to protect you from this pain, but you didn't listen to her. You were so happy that a man like Kratos was interested in you.

You left your mother.

You left your loving home for a man who didn't care about you.

Now you stood in front of your childhood home. You were terrified of facing your mother. You were sure and certain that she wouldn't want you anymore, especially when you told her that you were pregnant. Speki and Svanna moaned beside you, licking your hands. You smile at the wolves, finally gathering your courage to go and knock on the door. When the door opened, your courage melted like snow in the sun. Your mother looked at you in surprise. You jabbered incomprehensible words. To your surprise, your mother hugged you.

“I missed you so much,” she said, hugging you.

You cried with all the tears in your body, of relief, of anger, of sorrow. It was probably the hormones that were causing you to have this whirlwind of emotions, but you were happy to be back home.

Your mother allowed you and the two she-wolves to go inside. You explained to her what had happened and why you were back home. Your mother had listened to you patiently without interrupting you or judging you. When you told her about your pregnancy, she hugged you, reassuring you, saying that she would do everything to help you with your child.

A weight lifted from your shoulders.

You finally felt welcome and loved.

Your mother also loved Speki and Svanna.

She has always loved animals.

Your pregnancy was going wonderfully. Your belly grew bigger day after day. Six moons had just passed and in all that time, Kratos never came. You would have thought he would have come, at least to pick up Speki and Svanna, but no. He probably never bothered to look for you. Had he even returned? It wouldn't surprise you if that wasn't the case.

Even during Ragnarok, Kratos was always out of the house.

At first, you understood that he had to train Atreus and hunt. There were times when you were alone for days at a time, taking care of Fenri when he was sick. When Kratos came home, he barely spoke to you. He preferred to take care of his weapons and other tasks. Whenever you tried to approach him, he pushed you away.

The only reasons that kept you going were Mimir and Atreus. The two had welcomed you into the home with open arms. Then Atreus left. Mimir was still with Kratos.

You have always been alone.

“I’m sorry mother,” you say, stroking your belly.

“Why are you apologizing?” your mother asked, looking at you perplexed.

"Because... I didn't listen to you... and I left with this man who never cared about me. I was stupid."

"Child. You're not stupid," she said, leaving her work to come and sit next to you. "You were in love. How could I blame you for that? I also had this bad judgment when I fell in love with the man I dreamed of spending the rest of my life with."

“Were you in love before you met father?”

"Yes, I found this man kind and caring. But... he loved me just for my beauty. He didn't hesitate to dump me when he found a more beautiful woman. Then I met your father. He helped me. He consoled me and I agreed to marry him. And before he died, he gave me the greatest gift. You."

You would never have believed your mother had the same experience. That was why he was so harsh towards Kratos. You hugged your mother, crying your eyes out. Your mother always knew what was best for you.

Why did you think Kratos loved you?

He who said he hated the Gods. He was worse than Odin.

Three new moons passed, the baby was ready to come into the world. The day he was born had become the longest day you had to live. The pain that tore through your stomach was horrible. You screamed, cried, begged your mother for this pain to finally stop. Your mother helped you as best she could, telling you to take deep breaths and push. The pain will stop when the baby is out. Speki and Svanna squealed as they heard you scream in pure pain.

Your mother couldn't help but be worried. The birth was long. Too long even. The baby should already be out. But it wasn't just that. You were bleeding profusely. She tried to stop the bleeding, without success. It didn't bode well. After one last painful push, your child finally came out of your body, finally coming into the world. Her tears invaded the little cabin. Strangely, your mother was silent, staring at the horrified child.

"How...what is that?"

"Mother... my baby..."

Your mother showed you your child. You understood why she was so horrified when she saw the baby, her left side was perfectly formed, but her right side was devoid of skin, revealing her muscles and bones as black as darkness.

“It’s a girl,” you said under your breath.

“(Y/N)…”

“She’s perfect,” you said, sobbing and hugging your daughter to your chest. “My daugther... you are the best thing that ever happened to me!!”

Your mother looked at you without knowing what to think about this situation. This child should be dead. It was impossible for her to survive with such a deformation. She was brought out of her thoughts by feeling a warm liquid spilling onto her knees. Her gaze rested on the bed. The furs were soaked with your blood. The bleeding had become more severe. Your mother tried to stop the bleeding as best she could, but her attempts were in vain.

“(Y/N)!”

Your mother's throat tightened as she noticed that you had just taken your last breath, holding your daughter to your chest.

“No…,” she whispered, shaking you. "(Y/N)! No! Daugther! Open your eyes!"

From outside the cabin, anyone could hear Speki, Svanna, the baby and your mother crying over your death.

It was only at sunrise that your mother had the courage to prepare your pyre. She wrapped the baby in thick furs, placing her granddaughter in a basket. She placed the basket on the table as she went outside to take from her supply of logs. You were never going to be able to see your child grow up, become a woman. You were never going to be able to know all his joys and sorrows. You should never have left first. You should never have died this way. You didn't have time to give your daughter a name. She was going to have to decide for you. It wasn't her role to name your daughter and raise her.

The sun was now high in the sky when your mother placed your body on your pyre and set it on fire. She will be your daughter in her arms, watching your body turn to ash.

How could things have gotten so bad for you?

Why were the Gods so cruel to you?

But now you could finally be at peace. Your mother looked intently at your daughter, her granddaughter.

Neither alive nor dead.

Your mother didn't know how that was possible, but the facts were before her. The night had passed and the child was perfectly well. She slept peacefully in her arms.

"We need to find a name for you, little one. What do you think of Hel? This name suits you perfectly."

Your mother went back inside her house. The Gods have truly been cruel to you. Your mother knew she couldn't allow your daughter to see the outside world. Your mother placed Hel in her basket to close the windows and the front door. Your mother knew she had to hide her granddaughter from the outside world. Other mortals were not going to welcome a different child with open arms.

Your mother didn't know how to protect you as she wanted to do.

She was going to protect Hel as best she could.

tag: @pookiesnatcher

[lacm-ac]

Finally! All of the comics I drew became canon! It's time for retired Kratos to go through his mid-life crisis (again)!

I got this idea from when Mimir asked Kratos why they are in Valhalla in the trailer lol man it feels so good to be drawing these again! I really hope to get more inspired when the DLC comes out!

Hope you enjoy this! 🤭

[rolling-storm-writing]

Can you please write Týr x Kratos??? It can be headcanons of fluff, smut, or both!!! Just write whatever comes to mind!!! I'll be thankful with anything you write for me!!! 😊💖💖💖

Tyr/Kratos- Headcanons

warnings; NSFW

Two words… SLOW BURN, first and foremost both are still deeply hurt and grieving.  Tyr is fresh from being imprisoned and Kratos still reeling after Ragnarok.

Kratos is quite weary of the former god as he brings Mimir to speak with him.  If anything the two don’t truly interact without outside help. 

Awkward to the outside eye as they sit in an ominous silence around a camp fire.

The two find common ground when it comes to god hood and what it means.  Learning from one another and finding solace in their differences and similarities.

Their relationship is a very slow but meaningful one in my opinion.

Occasional trips to other realms or taking time to hunt together.  Quiet storytelling or quick “hello’s” when in passing.

There is no big gesture or ask the two simply just fall into place at each other’s side.

Tyr is the more openly romantic one of the two with physical touch and words of affirmation being big things for him.  

After being locked away for so long tho he’s very hesitant about opening up to another.

Kratos doesn’t mind and often finds the gentle touches and closeness to be perfect.  More meaningful than some swooning kiss could ever be.

“May I?” Would come his lover’s quiet voice as they walked together.  And without fail Kratos would offer his hand to him.

Tyr’s larger one wrapped ever so delicately around his own as they continued on their walk.

One thing about this pair is communication and proper boundaries are a must.  Very tentative and careful with one another no matter the occasion.

“Is this alright?” Kratos would mutter running his fingers through the giant’s soft hair.  A soft hum of approval and he’d continue on twirling the soft locs through his fingers.

And in the morning when those larger hands massaged at Kratos’ waist, and soft lips pressed against his shoulder all it took was quiet “continue” and they’d be all over each other.

On his back Kratos looked through hooded lids as Tyr loomed over him.  Legs spread wide and held up at his lover sunk deeper into him.

“So beautiful…” watching as his cock nestled deeper inside, kratos’ hole speared and puffy with glistening silk with every filling inch.

Tyr is so much bigger and it drives the both of them mad with lust.  Kratos is a pillow princess and Tyr’s only cowgirl and the god can’t get enough.

Losing himself as he plows into the smaller man with each bed rattling thrusts. hands on his hips, pulling Kratos back and pushing into him over and over. 

Kratos isn’t a loud man but with Tyr he’s a growling mess.  Low moans filling the room to mingle with slapping skin and creaking bed frame.

These two have so much stamina it’s almost unreal how long they can go.  “So good for me…” Tyr would whisper finally as he buried his cock fully, Kratos holding onto with dear life as he was folded like a pretzel.

cum dripping from his hole as and down his thighs. Eyes rolled to the back of his skull choking on a breathless moan as he too reached a mind numbing climax.

Tyr is very much a service top and lives to make sure his love is satisfied.  Slowly pulling out and peppering Kratos with soft kisses.  Lips pressed together in a soft kiss as hands grasp and caress the other.

Aftercare and just taking care of one another is simply a must as well.  Relaxing in the bath some time later or cuddling up after a previously prepared meal.

These two are honesty just goals in my eyes.  Very sweet and slow in a way that’s just perfect…

——————————————————————-

A/N; WELL I finally wrote something!! Honestly I really do like this ship and maybe I’ll write more for em.

If y’all have any other suggestions feel free to let me know ! And don’t forget your umbrella<3

[deftosweet]

GoW Headcanons!!

✩ For now, I will continue writing things related to Kratos (He is not my favorite character at all/j 🙄) So here we go! ✩

Author's note: Before continuing I must clarify that I have not played the entire GoW saga, so these ideas are based on part of what I have seen. If I leave out any details from the canon, please be patient and let me know in the comments! I love learning new things about my hyperfixations!

...

So today's theme is...Cooking! What does he like to eat? Does he like to cook? If so, what are Kratos' cooking skills like?

I honestly think that Kratos is not the most open person to trying new flavors, much less if it is food from someone he doesn't know very well.

Still, I think because of his homeland and the customs there in Greece, I guess it's not too difficult to get him to eat vegetables (This is based on the diets of the Spartans and the information I could get about them). But considering his physique, training, and the cold environment of Midgard meat will be his first choice when it comes to eating something simple.

Ngl, I don't think he likes to cook

If someone asks Kratos to cook something, (And if they manage to convince him) he will probably go reluctantly and mumbling (Something like the deleted scene from GoW 2018: "I'm the fucking god of war..." maybe he would say something like that lmao).

Even so, considering that Kratos, Atreus and Mimir live alone, the most obvious thing is that Kratos must cook what they hunt during the day.

Very simple meals, Atreus and Mimir are already used to it (If Atreus complains, Kratos will probably tell him he'll cook next time 💀).

The type of person who eats slowly. The other people sitting at the table may have finished their plate and Kratos is still there eating.

Picky eater (medium level). If he sees something he doesn't like on his plate he will simply leave it there on the plate, even if he has never tried it in his life (He just like me fr).

Author's note: That's all for today! Thanks for the support, that motivates me to keep writing (I insist on apologizing for any grammatical mistake or errors in the language) See you later in another post!

[red-velvet-0w0]

arlight so i was thinking about the norse god heimdall, and how his death acts as a sort of canary call, the first to die in ragnarok, but with his death warning the others of what is coming. and that got me thinking about, you guessed it, canary!jimmy. And then I thought "but what if life series norse god symbolism" (or maybe even AU not sure)

So I present:

Jimmy - Hiemdall (for afformentioned reasons)

Martyn - Tyr (martin is the Hand to Rendog, Tyr loses his hand to the fenrir wolf)

Rendog - Fenrir wolf

Scar - Loki (he just is okay I cant really explain it)

Grian - Odin (eye themes, omniscience, is the most powerful, complex love hate relationship with loki/scar)

Scott - Frey (god of nature & peace, dies from not having a sword, like how scott refuses to kill)

Joel - Thor (it just fits idk)

Lizzie - Sif (Joels wife, also kinda fits)

BigB - Bragi (god of poetry, bigb is skilled manipulator)

Etho - Ullr (god of hunt, duels, and winter)

Bdubs - Narfi (tricked by odin to turn on brother (impulse))

Cleo - Jormungandr (something about dripping poison into the world feels very on brand for them) (not as an insult) (more as a compliment if anything)

Tango - Mimir (god of inteligence who (depending on the version) dies due to his own actions)

Mumbo - Kvasir (god of innovation and invention)

Skizz - Baldur (hes just a sweet guy who dies too soon)

Impulse - Vali (betrayed by an brother (bdubs) and death lead to "binding" of loki/scar)

Pearl - Hel (she just is)

Gem - Freya (goddes of love but also battle)

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Doll People by Ann M. Martin and Laura Godwin

Annabelle Doll is 8 years old--and has been for over 100 years. Nothing much has changed in the dollhouse during that time, except for the fact that 45 years ago, Annabelle's Auntie Sarah disappeared from the dollhouse without a trace. After all this time, restless Annabelle is becoming more and more curious about her aunt's fate. And when she discovers Auntie Sarah's old diary, she becomes positively driven. Her cautious family tries to discourage her, but Annabelle won't be stopped, even though she risks Permanent Doll State, in which she could turn into a regular, nonliving doll. And when the "Real Pink Plastic" Funcraft family moves in next door, the Doll family's world is turned upside down--in more ways than one!

Ivy & Bean by Annie Barrows

The moment they saw each other, Bean and Ivy knew they wouldn't be friends. But when Bean plays a joke on her sister, Nancy, and has to hide quickly, Ivy comes to the rescue, proving that sometimes the best of friends are people never meant to like each other. Vibrant characters and lots of humor make this a charming and addictive introduction to Ivy and Bean.

Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates by Mary Mapes Dodge

For youngsters of the Dutch village, the time is especially exciting. But Hans and Gretel Brinker, with their hand-carved wooden blades, can hardly expect to compete against their well-trained young friends who own costly steel skates. Raff Brinker, their father, is seriously ill, and the desperately poor family is struggling to survive. To win the race, the siblings will need a miracle — and a helping hand.

The Sea of Trolls by Nancy Farmer

The year is A.D. 793; Jack and his sister have been kidnapped by Vikings and taken to the court of Ivar the Boneless and his terrifying half-troll wife; but things get even worse when Jack finds himself on a dangerous quest to find the magical Mimir's Well in a far-off land, with his sister's life forfeit if he fails.

A Dog's Life by Ann M. Martin

Squirrel and her brother Bone begin their lives in a toolshed behind someone's summer house. Their mother nurtures them and teaches them the many skills they will need to survive as stray dogs. But when their mother is taken from them suddenly and too soon, the puppies are forced to make their own way in the world, facing humans both gentle and brutal, busy highways, other animals, and the changing seasons. When Bone and Squirrel become separated, Squirrel must fend for herself, and in the process makes two friends who in very different ways define her fate.

The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry

Abandoned by their ill-humored parents to the care of an odious nanny, Tim, the twins, Barnaby A and Barnaby B, and their sister, Jane, attempt to fulfill their roles as good oldfashioned children. Following the models set in lauded tales from A Christmas Carol to Mary Poppins, the four Willoughbys hope to attain their proscribed happy ending too, or at least a satisfyingly maudlin one. However, it is an unquestionably ruthless act that sets in motion the transformations that lead to their salvation and to happy endings for not only the four children, but their nanny, an abandoned baby, a candy magnate, and his long-lost son too.

H.I.V.E. by Mark Walden

Otto Malpense may only be thirteen years old, but so far he has managed to run the orphanage where he lives, and he has come up with a plan clever enough to trick the most powerful man in the country. He is the perfect candidate to become the world's next supervillain.

That is why he ends up at H.I.V.E., handpicked to become a member of the incoming class. The students have been kidnapped and brought to a secluded island inside a seemingly active volcano, where the school has resided for decades. All the kids are elite; they are the most athletic, the most technically advanced, and the smartest in the country. Inside the cavernous marble rooms, floodlit hangars, and steel doors, the students are enrolled in Villainy Studies and Stealth and Evasion 101. But what Otto soon comes to realize is that this is a six-year program, and leaving is not an option.

With the help of his new friends: an athletic martial-arts expert; a world-famous, beautiful diamond thief; and a spunky computer genius -- the only other people who seem to want to leave -- can Otto achieve what has never been done before and break out of H.I.V.E.?

Journey to the River Sea by Eva Ibbotson

Sent in 1910 to live with distant relatives who own a rubber plantation along the Amazon River, English orphan Maia is excited. She believes she is in for brightly colored macaws, enormous butterflies, and "curtains of sweetly scented orchids trailing from the trees." Her British classmates warn her of man-eating alligators and wild, murderous Indians. Unfortunately, no one cautions Maia about her nasty, xenophobic cousins, who douse the house in bug spray and forbid her from venturing beyond their coiffed compound. Maia, however, is resourceful enough to find herself smack in the middle of more excitement than she ever imagined, from a mysterious "Indian" with an inheritance, to an itinerant actor dreading his impending adolescence, to a remarkable journey down the Amazon in search of the legendary giant sloth.

Babe the Sheep-Pig by Christ Grant-Bear

When Babe arrives at Hogget Farm, Mrs. Hogget’s thoughts turn to sizzling bacon and juicy pork chops—until he reveals a surprising talent for sheepherding, that is. Before long, Babe is handling Farmer Hogget’s flock better than any sheepdog ever could. Babe is so good, in fact, that the farmer enters him into the Grand Challenge Sheepdog Trials. Will it take a miracle for Babe to win?

The Chronicles of Chrestomanci by Diana Wynne Jones

Cat doesn't mind living in the shadow of his sister, Gwendolen, the most promising young witch ever seen on Coven Street. But trouble starts brewing the moment the two orphans are summoned to live in Chrestomanci Castle. Frustrated that the witches of the castle refuse to acknowledge her talents, Gwendolen conjures up a scheme that could throw whole worlds out of whack.

[cbs-scorpion-coffee-shop]

Modi's potential

Hey @charalysis. I wanna read your thoughts on a perspective for Modi I had while writing my fic.

I previously said that Modi was trying to be like his father and yet failed, right?

Well, who is he actually like?

Think about it. Modi tried to be like his father in battle. Rushing into battle without thinking, not wearing armor and dressing like his father, and having a mace that mimicks Mjolnir. But he couldn't mimic his father's lack of caution or concern for his safety. He got a mace that can shoot lightning from a distance. He got a shield. He has a blinding technique with his brother. Modi is a man of caution like his grandfather. He likes using magic more than physical attacks. He likes to defend himself and hinder his enemy before finishing them off.

When Thor comes to Kratos's house, he is polite. He asks permission. He brings a gift. He sets his weapon down. He doesn't talk lowly to Kratos or insult him. Modi is not like that. Odin is not like that.

Odin barges into the house, struts around like he owns the place, insults Thor and his children drinks from both cups and just flaunts his power. Modi threatens Mimir, makes fun of Atreus and angers him, and insults Faye and Kratos. Modi is a talker. A flaunter like his grandfather.

Modi is like Odin in many ways. He is Half-giant and probably exhibited signs of giant magic before Thor beat it out of him. He is stuck between trying to be like Thor and being his nature which is similar to Odin. I think if Modi turned out to be alive and started embracing his nature. He would use a Spear/Shield combo. The spear is a dangerous, long distance melee weapon and it can double as a magical staff, and the shield to protect him. I think he would start embracing his giant magic as well and learn many spells like Odin.

If Modi was alive, and stopped trying to be like Thor, he might have become like Odin. Even became his right hand when he was alive. I say he would no longer be afraid of his father and seek revenge against him. You might say he'd be traumatised, but he has spent his entire life in fear of his father that the near-death beating he gave him was basically a breaking point.

What do you think?

*Writes new ideas and notes for my fic*

[lemonmoxy]

Ships in the Night

Summary: Mimir Ingellvar and Lucanis Dellamorte keep meeting each other for the first time during some of the worst moments of their lives.

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Chapter 2: Mimir and the Crow

Mimir is sixteen, and this can firmly be said to be the worst day of their life. Ironically, it is the worst day in a series of worst days, with every new day becoming a new worst day. They have been kidnapped by Tevinter slavers. It was a threat that every authority figure used. “Don’t stay out too late or you’ll get sold off”. The threat was real, but distant, to most. Mimir had always known how real the threat was. They were an elf. Imaginations of what Tevinter must be like had been a fixture in Mimir’s nightmares for a long time. All it took for a nightmare to come true was Mimir not paying close enough to their drink after one bad day.

It is only the smallest of blessings that Mimir will never get to know what Tevinter is like in any detail. They have crossed the border, but they’ve not reached any cities, and they don’t plan to. Mimir will never be sold on the marketplace of Minrathous because the Magister intends to sacrifice them here (Mimir had said it was a small blessing). 

Purely academically, Mimir understands what is going on here. Magisters are always after power and Mimir has a slight academic only knowledge of blood magic. They are a graduate of a Circle, and a initiate Mourn Watcher afterall. The alignment of the planetary bodies is particularly potent, a full bloody moon, and Mimir can tell this ground is sacred (likely to the elves, because Magisters were fucked up like that). The veil is thin here, and there are spirits pressing in. Mimir isn’t a blood mage and doesn’t know the particulars of their plans, but they know enough that whatever they plan to do will be horrible and it has to happen now.

They also know, as an over vigilant child would, that there is something in the air. The Magister and his slaver lackeys and apprentices should be in high spirits. Whatever they want is about to be in hand. But there is a tension in them, as if they are waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the first time since Mimir has been in their captivity, the Tevenes are not paying attention. They are sloppy. They are in a hurry to get their moment of triumph over with. 

Mimir is not the only slave. They are one, in dozens, maybe more. Mimir counted ten in their cage (which isn’t a particularly good number for spells, another reason why they are sloppy). They can count thirteen other cages (a better number). The cages are spread out in the very large field, with all of the Magister’s assistants burning glyphs and runes into the grass with magical fire. 

The screaming has begun. Already, they can see people being pulled out of their cages and dragged out. The veil, already thin, is cracking even more. Mimir can see, not ten feet away from them, a spirit of Courage twisting into a spirit of Rage. Mimir’s stomach churns with rage as well - the loss of life, the corruption of the denizens of the Fade, creatures Mimir has been trained to love and care for. It is abhorrent. 

There will be no rescue, Mimir realizes. If the Mourn Watch or Circle Templars are coming to save them, they will be here too late. Mimir is not the pride and joy of their Circle, but they are talented, they are magical, and they have been practicing necromancy for far longer than anyone would suspect (because most are not born into the lifestyle, even in Navarre). Nobody’s eyes are on Mimir, and that’s enough.   

Mimir reaches out to the Fade, not first but not too late, and certainly better . 

They are twisting you. Mimir reaches out with their feelings. They snatch at the edges of the spellwork the Magister cast and pull at its fraying edges. Controlling you. I see you. I see your pain. It’s my pain too. Don’t let them do this. I will help you. Help me. Rage looks at Mimir. Mimir didn’t blink. 

It charges, and bucks into Mimir’s cage. The horses scream. The cart tilts and the cage goes spilling out onto the grass. The spirit turns on the blood mages who summoned it with the blood of the slaves and corrupted it with their fear and rage.

Mimir is small, even for an elf. They have to jump and lock their arms through the grate to get the padlock that is now above their hand. They shove their hand against the lock and pull at their mage. Water pours from the air into the lock and freezes. The lock snaps. Mimir throws it open and has to jump out of the way of the slaves that come pouring out after them to avoid being trampled. 

Guards are yelling. Mimir lays in the grass, too focused on their magic to move. 

They cannot twist you, cannot hurt you, while I am here. They push their feelings out and out, with the magic, into the thin veil, out into the field, further than they’ve ever tried to commune with spirits before. This time they do not pull at the threads of the Magister’s spell. They scramble, crawl over grass, and stick their hands in the sigil of burnt grass and soaked with fresh blood. They grab the whole spell. Strangely, the Magister doesn’t fight them. Mimir feels no pull of his magic against theirs, but they don’t wait to see if he will try. You’re in pain. But you don’t have to be. You’re angry, but you don’t have to be. You can do something about this. Follow me. Don’t let them hurt us. I will help you. Spirits reflect the emotions of the space. If the death of innocents stops, the pain that is turning them stops. The veil does open like the Magister wants, but demons of misery and rage do not pour out, and they are not his to command. Spirits of valor, courage, and compassion come, and they come to help Mimir. 

The blood mages could never control spirits or demons, because they aren’t monsters to be heeled. They are Mimir’s friends . And they will not let them be hurt, and the spirits won’t let Mimir be hurt. 

Mimir bends and pulls a bottle of lyrium for the belt of a truly mutilated slaver and downs it, avoiding the blood on the bottle. Their magic swells quickly in response. “You really shouldn’t have stolen a Mourn Watcher, fools.” They say, and try to ignore the way their voice shakes. They don’t look back at the body, because they cannot throw up the lyirum they just swallowed. They need it if they are going to live. They lower their eyes till they can just barely see anything and pick off the dead man’s staff. 

Mimir doesn’t have any plan besides “don’t die” and “save everyone” and “restore Rage back to its proper alignment”. They tear through, going from cage to cage, demons and spirits at their heels, Mimir snaps off locks, and death magic or the spirits themselves make short work of any Tevinter slaver who gets in their way. 

All the time, Mimir is on the look out for the Magister. Mimir is a newly graduate of the Circle and they doubt they can handle a Magister, even with their friends. When they spot him, they are torn. They can’t run. But can they really fight? Their hesitation ripples out to the spirits, dulling them. Only Rage roars, insistent that they try. 

“The Crows send their regards.” Mimir doesn’t see him. He isn’t there, doesn’t exist. Until he does and the Magister is choking on his own blood. 

The demon of rage roars at the death of the Magister. “There are others.” Mimir says first. “Worse than even him. He was a coward. Too afraid to do anything himself. That one beat us for his amusement as we travelled.” They redirect the demon before it can launch itself at the Crow. Rage burns away from Mimir to attack the cruel bloodmage. Mimir keeps their eyes on the Crow who is looking at them.   

-X-

Lucanis is twenty-four, newly minted the Demon of Vyrantium because Viago thinks himself funny, and he is having a bad day. Somehow Magister Kato knows he’s coming. He made a mistake and now over a hundred people are going to die and he’s going to have to fight a Magister blasted out of his mind and supercharged by blood magic. He had been laying in a ditch, following for the perfect opportunity, for less than nothing. Everything is his fault, and he doesn’t even know what he slipped up on.

Then, suddenly, Lucanis is not responsible for the deaths of hundreds. He watches a slip of a thing, a teenage elf pluck at a Magister’s spell and bend it enough to escape. It’s one teenage mage against dozens of bloodmages and armed guards. They shouldn’t have a chance even in the chaos the demons turning on their summoners will bring. 

Lucanis goes in quick, and goes for the Magister. There’s no chance at a quick kill. He already knew Lucanis was coming, and the ritual going wrong is no help. But, Lucanis’s engagement allows the teenager to not just twist the spell but take it. And suddenly it is not Lucanis and one teenage mage against a host of blood mages, but a host of blood mages against the Demon of Vyrantium and a host of spirits and demons that seem shockingly eager to listen to a teenage mage. 

The Magister is panicking, his guards are not coming to help, and Lucanis finds it easy after that to kill him. A howl of rage has him spinning on a demon. The teenager stands at the demon's side and doesn’t seem afraid, or possessed. Their words are soft, but it sends the demon off after a blood mage instead of at Lucanis. 

“It’s a bad idea to get between Courage and its mission.”

“It’s a bad idea to get between a Crow and his target.” 

The teenager shrugs. Their hands are shaking around their staff. “I don’t know Crows very well.” They say, they keep swallowing so their voice won’t shake. “Are you going to kill us, because we saw you?”

“No.” Lucanis doesn’t have to kill them. He could if he wanted, but he is not going to kill slaves when he doesn’t have to. 

“Are you going to help us?”

Lucanis hesitates. Crows aren’t supposed to take the initiative, now that Kato’s dead, his contract is complete. “You saved me from that demon of Rage.” 

The teenager shook their head. “Don’t call it that. You’ll give it ideas, and I can restore it. It’s just angry because we’re angry. Once it vents… and I talk to it, it will be fine.” 

Lucanis is doubtful. “Surely it is not that easy.”

The teenager makes a face. “What part of this looks easy to you, Crow?” They turn their attention away from him, back to the demon and frown. The demon has killed the blood mage they directed at him, but now is regarding huddled slaves. 

Lucanis twists his knives, prepared to move. “You see, it is a demon, not a spirit, mage.”

“My name is Mimir.” The teenager says, which is such a bizarrely old name that Lucanis hasn’t heard outside of old books that his grandmother had in the library mostly to show off how cultured they were rather than to actually read, that Lucanis actually hesitates for a moment.  

Mimir, the teenage elven mage, takes advantage and sprints towards the demon. “Friend! Friend! Look at me. Feel me. I am angry too. I am so angry. And I know, I know, you didn’t ask to be here, on this side. There is so much here. It’s so overwhelming. But you are so brave . You wouldn’t hurt those people, just because you’re angry, would you?” They speak quickly until the demon is looking at them, then their voice is soft. “I am so angry too. They took me. Hurt me. I am so far from home. Just like you.” Their voice is like a song, the way they speak and intone. The demon does not lash out. Not at the slaves, not at Mimir. 

Lucanis can’t see Mimir smile as he approaches. Just because the demon hasn’t attacked doesn’t mean it won’t. The teenager is a powerful mage, and powerful mages are prone to the foolhardy decisions that lead to them doing things like escaping a blood mages ritual by stealing the spell. But that foolhardy pride can get them killed just as quickly. Lucanis’s mistake had almost cost them their life once, he wasn’t going to let Mimir die anyway, even by their own stupidity. 

“See, you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re courageous , you and I, aren’t we?” The demon’s eyes, more like pits of fire, lock on Lucanis, approaching Mimir’s back. 

It is at this moment that he realizes that he and the Rage demon have had the same thought, that nobody should hurt this stupidly sincere teenager, only they did not have an accord. The demon launches itself at him. Mimir launches themself at the demon that is a wreath of fire . 

“You idiot!” Lucanis tries to grab the back of their robes and he misses . 

Mimir crashes into the wall of fire of the rage demon. But there are no screams. Mimir is hugging fire for one moment then they are hugging, or more accurately dangling from the shoulders of an armored spirit. 

“Courage!” Mimir cheers. 

Lucanis feels like he just lost a year of his life. 

The violence ends slowly. The last of the blood mages die. Mimir spends hours healing those who are hurt, and within their power to heal, with the help of spirits of Compassion. “I’m no Rivaini healer.” They tell him. “But I took a lot of courses on spirit healing. I know what I’m doing.” Still Mimir is only a teenager, and they can’t heal everyone. 

Lucanis hovers at their side. He could leave, but everyone is too shell shocked to take stock of the situation. Only Mimir and Lucanis seem to have any control of the situation. Mimir instructs how to care for those they cannot fully heal, whether that is how to limit their pain until they pass, or how to travel with them with broken limbs. 

“There was an earthquake when I was fourteen.” Mimir tells him, while drinking a lyrium potion. One slave, a dwarven man, took it on himself to bring Mimir a never ending supply of lyrium potions stolen from the effects of the blood mages. Lucanis knows mages can’t get sick off lyrium but is unnerving and worrying how much Mimir has to drink to just keep going. “Our professor said it was the best sort of practice we could get. But really, I think they just didn’t have enough healers.” They keep talking, Lucanis isn’t sure where they are going with this. “My point.” For a teenager they are annoyingly perceptive. “Is that I’m Mourn Watch. I’ve seen a lot of death. I’ve prepared bodies for death. I’ve seen everything that can come out of a body, do that. And during the earthquake, I helped people not die, or die peacefully. This isn’t different.” 

“It is a little different.” Lucanis points out.

Mimir sighs a sigh that really shouldn’t be coming out of a teenager, but Lucanis had heard out of the mouths of many fledglings. “It is a little different.” They admit. “It’s a massacre. How could they do this to other people? I know people kill people. I’ve helped after murders. But… mass slaughter? I’m sure it’s happened in Navarre before... But, Crow, they didn’t even blink . They didn’t care. We weren’t even people to them. Sometimes, at school, people look at me…” Mimir doesn’t elaborate but Lucanis knows how some people look at elves. “But that . I’ve never been looked at like that . It was a nightmare. It’s a whole country of nightmares.”

“There are people in this land who just farm, Mimir. They don’t all kill each other during the full moon.”

“Then they should kill the ones that do.” 

“They’re just farmers.”

“Then Antiva should do something. Navarra should do something. Even fucking Orlais should do something.” 

Lucanis snorts. “They don’t teach you history at your Circle? Tevinter isn’t still standing for lack of effort.”

“No. I know.”

“And there are those who live here who are trying to change it.”

“I know.” Mimir’s eyes burn with tears. “But how can this be all that can be done if everyone is really trying?” 

Lucanis doesn’t have an answer for that. He wonders if all teenagers are so idealistic and passionate. The Crows beat that out of you. Lucanis never thought much about the state of oppression of others outside of how it could benefit the Crows. He was just trying to survive or just trying to complete his contract. He never thought past getting lucky enough to let slaves like Mimir and the others go.

Mimir knocks back another lyrium potion. “OK. I’m good to go.” And they get back to work.  

Lucanis follows in their wake, worried someone will take out their fears and frustrations on a teenager who failed to save someone. He does have to push a few people back. Mimir hardly seems to notice when a grieving mother makes to snatch them by the hair “knife ear” on her tongue. They are too busy moving on to the next person. 

“You should rest.” He says, once Mimir has looked over everyone once. 

Mimir just shook their head. “The spirits are unsettled. They’ll turn if we don’t bring them to rest soon. This land will be scarred forever. I can heal it.” 

“A Mourn Watchwe can do this?” Lucanis doesn’t know anything about the order, except they are very talented Mortalitasi.

“I’m just an initiate, but, yes.” 

“Their standards for membership must be high.”

Mimir tilts their head back and laughs. “No. No. I’m just a special case. But thank you.” They bite at their lip.

“If you need something just ask.” 

“I don’t have any money.” They smile.

Lucanis snorts. “Only killing will cost you.”

“Can you make sure everyone stays calm and where they are for a bit. I’m going to try a ritual. The other Mourn Watchers must not know where we are, otherwise they should have been here by now.”  

Lucanis thinks that Mimir is being too optimistic, if they think their order was looking for them. 

Though Mimir asked for help. Lucanis in actuality has to do very little. Everyone falls quiet when Mimir walks out alone into the fields of blood. Green death magic swirls around, illuminating their white hair, they move their stolen staff to a beat Lucanis cannot hear and does not know, and ancient Nevarren words fall from Mimir’s lips as they begin the spell. He is no mage, but his eyes burn and itch at the magic in their air. The spirits of compassion and courage and valour (Mimir had told him which was which as if he could tell besides “wearing armor” and “not wearing armor”) seem to slip back into the Fade one by one as Mimir speaks for the dead. Mimir chants for so long Lucanis is afraid they will talk themself hoarse, but they return, their bare feet soaked in blood. They look both haggard but lighter. 

“I’d need more time, but I’ve done what I can. I’ll tell the Mourn Watch when I return and they’ll do the rest.” They tell him, as if their words mean anything to him. They look at him as if he is their senior Crow (or Mourn Watcher he supposes) in charge, and not just a random assassin they met a few hours ago. Lucanis doesn’t understand how they can trust him so much after they just escaped slavery. He wants to shake them by their shoulders. 

But their voice is hoarse so he hands them a waterskin. “Good job.”

Mimir gives him a look that lets him know they know it's an empty platitude. “We should leave, what if they had friends.” They drink without checking for poison. It is a miracle any non-crow child lives to adulthood. 

“He didn’t.” Lucanis reassures immediately, noticing the tremble in their voice. “And nobody will miss him for weeks. But no, a hoard of escaped slaves shouldn’t linger in Tevinter. Do you know the way back to Nevarre?” 

“I do…” 

Lucanis can tell that they probably don’t. “I’ll take as far as the first border town.” Despite everything, he does think Mimir deserves a bit of his share of the payment. Without them this would have been messy, even if he had managed to save everyone, because apparently this land would have rotted from bad spirit magic (Lucanis hates magic more and more). He isn’t going to pay them, but he can follow them and make sure they’re alright. He owes them, after all. 

A few hours later they’re at that border town. Most of the slaves are with them, whispering in groups, planning on how to get home, if they have a home to go to. A few Lucanis feels he could take back to Antiva, to the Crows, as he is supposed to. Mimir boldly made a claim on the few apostates, saying that they had freed them, so if they preferred the Navarren Circle or the Mourn Watch, that they should be allowed to go. Lucanis didn’t feel inclined to argue. 

“I told you.” Mimir rejoins him, having sent off a letter. 

A huge cluster of slaves are arguing with the mayor and the innkeepers about arrangements. There isn’t a lot of money to go around, and what they have, everyone needs to divide in order to get back to their homes. Nobody wants to house them all for free, but the mayor and the innkeepers keep looking over at the Antiva Crow (Lucanis is still in armor) and the blood soaked Mortalitasi, and then things de-escalate. 

Lucacis gives them a cool look. “Told me what.” 

“That I could turn Courage away from rage.” 

“You did. I shouldn’t have doubted the Mourn Watch.” Lucanis smiles at how irritated Mimir looks that he isn’t arguing with them. 

“Still. No matter how confident you are, you shouldn’t fling yourself onto any more pyres. I hear Nevarrens hate them.” 

“Oh, whatever.” They huff but their lips twitch. “It’s not like I fancy myself the next Andraste. I knew what I was doing.” They insist in tone that means that they have learned only bad lessons and will in fact do more risky things in the future. Lucanis wonders if he was this annoying and stubborn as a teenager. He knows Illario was, but surely he wasn’t.

“How soon do you think your order will be to pick you up?” Caterina can want all the grandkids she wants, she’ll have to get them from Illario, because Lucanis is never having kids.  

[tapioca-puddingg]

Why GoWR Valhalla Is Important

Hey. It's me again. This time I'm not yelling about Kingdom Hearts or Drakengard, but I wanted to talk about God of War Ragnarök: Valhalla today and why I think it's important in trauma-centered narratives. This isn't a detailed analysis, just me spitballing.

SPOILER WARNING: There will be spoilers for God of War Ragnarök: Valhalla, so please proceed with caution!

EDITED: 2/26/24

As a brief summary, Kratos spent almost the entirety of GoW 2018 refusing to talk about his past. His guilt, shame, and trauma deeply affected his relationship with his son, to the point where he didn't want to be around Atreus bc he was terrified of being a bad influence on him. It was only when Atreus' life was in danger did it force him to finally admit just a sliver of the truth. Now I don't mean to say that Kratos revealing his godhood wasn't a big deal because it absolutely was, I'm just saying that it's just one piece of a MUCH bigger story. Anyway, he recognized his past mistakes, but the shame was too much for him to openly acknowledge it until damn near the end of the game.

Come Ragnarök, Kratos was pretty much an open book. He had grown SO much in those short years of fimbulwinter: He openly talked about his trauma to Mimir and Freya. He worked so hard to be a good father and a good support system to his friends. He went out of his way to make amends with Freya and restore their friendship. And he fought to restore peace to the Nine Realms.

But come Valhalla, Freya wants to recruit Kratos to be the new God of War of the nine realms, or at least to be a part of the new peacekeeping council that she's putting together. Kratos is extremely hesitant to take up the mantle. He doesn't feel worthy or deserving enough to hold this position given all that he's done. He and Mimir (and later on, Tyr) are constantly going back and forth about it. Both perspectives are completely valid. Valhalla is about Kratos facing his past in a more literal sense; parts of Greece have been manifested from Kratos' memories of it, so it's like he gets to be there in real time again. This is about helping him process what happened and to add some nuance to the conversation. It's like free therapy for Kratos.

It's funny too bc you have both opposing viewpoints being represented. On one hand, you have Mimir and Tyr being the supporting/validating voice, and Helios is the contrarian. Since he's a manifestation of Kratos' memories, he represents the doubts that Kratos has about himself. The harsh voice to show how hard he is on himself, and not without good reason.

The reason why I think Valhalla is so important is bc in media, survivor narratives are often linear. The character just "gets over" their trauma and then that trauma isn't addressed again. It's presented more as a hurdle than a lifelong battle. I guess this goes to show how misunderstood survivorhood is. But that isn't how healing works. We regress sometimes, and sometimes we still mull over the things that have happened to us. We might heal, but that trauma does leave emotional scars. So even after the many leaps and bounds Kratos has made, he's not "over" his past, far from it! It still haunts him every day and every night. Valhalla is Kratos still processing everything. From my own healing journey, I've learned that it takes a long, long time to fully process your trauma, if there even is a "fully", anyway. It takes a long time to learn and understand all the complexities and how it affects you in current day. And it takes even longer to process such a complicated history like Kratos'.

Generally speaking about the idea of processing trauma, I said earlier that survivorhood is extremely misunderstood by the masses. Imo, our society is very anti-victim/anti-survivor. So with that in mind, from the perspective of the audience, some might perceive the processing trauma bit as repetitive or "milking it". These are mediums of entertainment after all, so ofc I understand wanting to put out an engaging story where the audience doesn't lose interest. But screw those ppl lol. We have to understand why we do what we do if we want to do better, and it's amazing that a video game is willing to have these conversations. Being more open about all the nuances of processing trauma, grief, healing, etc will go such a long way.

Even the roguelite gameplay style perfectly reflects this theme. Processing this stuff is slow. It doesn't happen overnight. Unless you're in Valhalla, I suppose.

Okay I said this wasn't a detailed analysis but I lied. I'm a liar now

[jellyfishvibes]

Khdr Keyblade thoughts So, as we know, dr characters are based on norse gods and i'm assume they keyblade they all wield is like starlight in that its a training keyblade that is a keychain given and not 'their' keyblade so based on said norse mythology dr character keyblade names/ideas

Odin - Odins named weapon is Gungnir, a spear that had runes carved into its tip, made by dwarves known as the Sons of Ivaldi

Xehanort - This man is not norse Eraqus - Neither is this guy

Hermod - Hermod has very little about him in the mythology that i found, he is a messenger and rides down to Hel and back to try and revive Baldr? He is given two rings a cloak to give to other people on that trip? got a theme of 9 going on with ring for 9 days to get to Hel and being given a ring that duplicates itself every 9 days making 8 new identical copies of itself, idk not alot here

Urd - One of the three Norns, specifically the one of the past, i would love to see a matching keyblade trio for these three (Skuld being the future and the one of the present usually being anglicized as Verdandi, and i don't think she has appeared yet) Strings of fate and weaving themes are big for all three along with the world tree Yggdrasil, but Urd specifically has a big connection to the well they water the tree with and live near, as its called the Well of Urd

Vor - From my quick research she might be the same as a valkyrie Geiravor who wields a spear but also has the winged horse imagery you could draw on, also i have found her name might mean oath and has associations with oaths and contracts, so something similar to oathkeeper maybe? something like Oathbreaker?

Bragi - (you know, before the plot happened) Is the god of poetry and also possibly music? also he has a rune on his tongue? he is characterized as the court poet of the aesir and something poetry based would fit, maybe in the form of a kenning as there is a dialogue where he explains them, you could also pull from the blood of Kvasir which is said to be the 'mead of poetry', also a great place to put a poetic irony name

Baldr - A Vala predicts his death, Vali's birth and the killing of Hoder and Frigg crying as a result, He has bad dreams and Odin goes to Hel to talk to a Vala about it, he forces her tell him who kills Baldr, who will avenge him and who will weep for him, He is given Draupnir (The ring that duplicates) on his funeral pire and Odin whispered something in his ear before hes pushed out to sea, a majority of him in the mythology is just about that one time he died, the easy target is something mistletoe themed but i am leaning more towards the 'everyone needed to weep to bring him back' theming, maybe with the 9 rings idk, the only name ideas i have are something along the lines of whispers or secrets to allude to the Odin secret thing, Murmured Mystery or something like that? (Fun fact his heartless is called Hringhorn, which is the name of Baldrs ship in mythology, making the final boss turns into a boat theme in Xehanorts life originate from Baldr)

Heimdall - Gjallarhorn is the horn that heralds the beginning of ragnarok and Gulltoppr is his golden mained horse, He is the protector of the Bifrost and has foresight and keen senses, notably his eyesight and hearing, there is a theory that Gjallarhorn could be translated as 'horn of the river Gjoll' a river that seperates the living and the dead, and also that the poem telling of where the horn is my not be referring to it but to Heimdall's hearing which may mean there could be a mirror between him and Odin, as Odin leaves his eye in Mimir's well for knowledge, Heimdall may have left his ear there, he is ripe for a foresight-didn't see his death coming poetic irony name and beyond that the god is very associated with gold so probably a good aspect to design with

Helgi - Helgi is a hero in mythology who falls in love with and marrys a valkyrie, Sigrun, due to slaying Hunding he gets the moniker 'Hunding's bane', he is killed by Sigrun's brother and there is a story after his death where he appears one night ontop of his burial mound to Sigrun, His hair covered with frost, his body covered with blood and his hands are wet, which he explains are becuase of all the tears she has shed for him, they spend the night together and he has to leave in the morning, she spend the rest of her life waiting for him again, which i latch onto cause a frost themed weapon for him would be a really cool contrast to his very classic norse hero design, also more easy valkyrie imagery to pull from aswell, having some thematic kind of match between his and Sigurn's keyblades would be cool

Hoder - The blind god who accidentally killed Baldr with something made of mistletoe (its said Loki made the mistletoe int a spear but Hoder shoots it like is an arrow so???), so also easy mistltoe imagery, he is also killed by Vali to avenge Baldr, depending on the version Hoder is either completely innocent and tricked into it by Loki or much less innocent and more active in the murder, one of the lines of translated poetry i latched onto was His hands he washed not, his hair he combed not, Till he bore to the bale-blaze Baldr's foe. A keyblade name along the lines of blood on hands/unable to wash away the sin would fit kh Hoder, or even a subversion of Destiny's Embrace, as she is kinda stuck in the fate of both her and her brothers death but goes along with it (she swung first) something like Cradle of Fate, or Destiny's Grasp, something that leans a little more negative (*Hoder and Kairi parallels in here about being tangled in fate and have destinys entwined with death, The Kai in Kairi means death after all)

Sigrun - Sigrun is a Valkyrie, she first meets Helgi when leading 9 other Valkyrie, his story happens, her brother tells him of what he did to Helgi and she curses him, forcing him to live in the woods and survive of carrion and she dies early of sadness and is reborn again as a Valkyrie, Her name aslo apparently means Victory Rune, valkyrie imagery? idk there isnt alot here, probably something matching Helgi tho (Its cute that in the like 1 cutscene we have of her and Helgi they pair up without words and seem to be besties/ always standing near each other)

Vala - A Vala was a norse woman with the ability to fortell the future and perform sorcery, often translated as "seeress", "prophetess", "staff bearer", "wise woman" and "sorceress", and the staff bearer in that group intrigues me, they are often connected to Freyja, thers not alot of stuff to work with beyond magic themeing unless you'd pice a specific Vala

Vali - Vali was a son of Odin and Baldrs brother, after Baldrs death he was born and grew to become an adult in one day to avenge him by killing Hoder and binding Loki in the entrails of his son, hes the god of flight and to symbolize this he has a cloak made of raven feathers that when raised looks like wings, very omen of death he is, theres not very much more about him beyond his role in the story of Baldrs death, this line Then did Váli | slaughter bonds twist Makes me think a name along the lines of Bond Breaker or Twist of Bonds might fit (i will note that hes the one who warns the group Hoder has disappeared, leading to Sigurn's, Helgi's and Heimdall's deaths by malificents hands)

Vidar - A god associated with vengance, he is fated in ragnarok to kill Fenrir to avenge his fathers, Odin's, death, he has the moniker "The Silent God" and it is mentioned that he is as powerful as Thor and that he has thick shoes? called 'the possessor of the iron shoe' which might be in reference to the description of him killing Fenrir putting emphisis on him using his foot to hold the dogs lower jaw open, fenrir is already a keyblade in the series and making his keyblade a match for it might be fun, Iron Soul or something along those lines might be a good name for it, i would fully lean into the shoe sole-soul pun for a name, and making a silver blade to Helgi's gold might parallel the kingdom key/kingdom key d duo, idk why they would parallel but like thats where my mind immedately goes (its interesting that both Vali and Vidar are fated to survive ragnarok and are in the group that survive malifcents attack, and the four in the attack are fated to die in mythology, Hoder obviously, Heimdall to Loki in ragnarok and Sigurn and Helgi both in their story, and possibly ragnarok cause i think the valkyrie and warriors of valhalla both fight in it)

[theninerealmsbakery]

God of War characters competing in the Great British Bake Off

Sindri - Spends as much time cleaning as he does baking. Makes simple yet elegant bakes. Ends up winning the competition (he deserves it!). Cries when he wins.

Brok - Has never followed a recipe a day in his life and isn't about to start now. Tries to put meat into everything he bakes; cakes, breads, pastry, you name it. He is the first to be sent home.

Odin - He makes over-the-top ambitious bakes, which he doesn't always have time to finish. He made it to the top 3 but lost out to Sindri. (He tried to bribe the judges to let him win)

Freya - Alternative queen! She likes to use alternative ingredients like coconut flour and xanthum gum. She isn't vegan or anything, she just likes to challenge herself. (Unfortunately this goes horribly wrong sometimes)

Freyr - Here for a good time, not a long time. He has no idea what he is doing, but he's having fun. Is so chill throughout the challenges and only panics when there is 5 minutes left and he hasn't decorated a damn thing. (was disappointed to be told he couldn't make weed brownies)

Heimdall - Has never had to cook or bake a single thing before, so he goes into the competition completely blind. Is failing miserably the entire time, but his superiority complex stops him from noticing. Was sent home after serving the judges a half raw quiche because he didn't know that he had to pre-heat the oven.

Atreus - What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. Even if his flavours are questionable, his bakes always look amazing. Will drop anything he is doing to help others if they are struggling.

Angrboda - This girl makes cookies to die for! Her bakes are always colourful and tasty. Made it to the top 3.

Thrud - Like Heimdall, she has never cooked or baked before. She has never even heard of baking powder before. Has a very 'how hard can it be?' attitude. Most of her bakes come out burnt outside and raw in the middle, because she turns the oven to its highest setting, thinking it will bake faster.

Skjodr - He is an absolute beast at making bread. However he is hindered by the sheer anxiety brought on by the competition. He sweats buckets the entire time he is there. He nearly passed out when he won bread week.

Kratos - His bakes are always cooked properly and he never has any mishaps or accidents, but they tend to be very simple and plain, even the show-stoppers.

Mimir - Mimir is totally the guy who royally messes up his bake, but comes up with an elaborate excuse and tries to convince the judges that it is actually good.

[hereforreadandwrite]

Chapter One

Masterlist

You were not a mortal like the others. Thanks to your abilities, you had become the protector of the lands of Midgard. You knew every corner, every inhabitant, every magical creature and other that there was in this Kingdoms. She was also known in all the other Kingdoms. You loved to fly. It was a feeling of ultimate freedom. You loved visiting Mimir and Sigrun in Asgard. You considered them your parents. Mimir had taught you his knowledge and Sigrun had taught you how to fight.

You had a happy life overall even if there was a dark spot on this idyllic picture.

Odin was interested in your intelligence, your secrets. He had become obsessed with this creature. You had the appearance of a young woman who had just reached adulthood, but your aging was much slower than normal, you had long (Y/H/C) slightly curled hair that reached to your shoulders, your (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with life, full lips, you weren't very tall, but what was really intriguing was your immense black wings like darkness which made your size and that you could become a nightmare being when you wanted to scare your enemies. You were a divine creature, that he dreamed of having. He dreamed of dissecting you to know everything about you.

How were you born with wings?

How could you stay young for so long?

How can you take your nightmare form to scare your enemies?

Seeing that Odin was becoming more and more obsessed with you, Mimir and Sigrun asked you not to go to Asgard anymore, for fear that the Allfather would come after you. You were saddened by this request, but you obeyed. You had returned to Midgard, your Homeland, and you had not returned to Asgard. Odin became mad with rage. Upon learning that Mimir and Sigrun were responsible, he decided to punish them. He imprisoned Mimir in a tree on the top of a mountain, far from civilization, and cursed Sigrun and the other Valkyries. But that wasn't the only thing Odin did. He found you in Midgard. He had seen you take care of Jormungandr. To trap you, he took the appearance of Mimir. You had let your guard down. You were happy to see your adoptive father again after all this time. To celebrate your reunion, "Mimir" you had offered a Mead verse, but Odin had slipped in a drug powerful enough to keep you asleep. When you came to your senses, you felt that something was wrong. your back hurt excruciatingly. Dread filled you as you ran your hand down your back.

Your wings were no longer there.

That night, your cry of despair was heard throughout Midgard.

Because of Odin's obsession, you lost your parents, the Valkyries and your wings. You were alone and filled with sadness. You had left your human form behind, leaving only your nightmarish form visible, scaring away all people and creatures who tried to approach you. In your sadness, you had taken up residence in the council of Valkyries. You had discovered a breach where your adoptive mother was sealed. So you stayed there, protected your mother against anything and anyone who dared to set foot in your living space. But that didn't stop the God of War: Tyr himself from coming to meet you.

“You’re not welcome here, especially your kind,” you said through gritted teeth. “Go away before one of us gets hurt.”

“(Y/N)... what happened to you?” Tyr asked, saddened by seeing your pitiful state.

"You know what happened to me! Everyone knows what happened!" you yelled, turning towards Tyr and slowly moving closer to him. "Odin. Your bastard father tricked me and took everything I had! My father! My mother! My family! My wings! He took everything from me! Look at that! This is what's left of my mother. The Valkyries... have been sealed away... I don't know where or what happened to my father."

"You can't stay here, (Y/N). It's... unhealthy for you to live here, next to this breach."

“I’m protecting my mother,” you said, returning to the gap. “Go back to your father Tyr. And leave me to my sorrow.”

"The (Y/N) I knew would never have felt sorry for herself. She would have found a way to find her parents and her wings."

"Ah! I forgot about your sense of humor Tyr," you said, turning to the Norse God of War. "But I'm not suicidal. Remember, we're talking about your father. The Allfather. The one who knows everything and has mastered many techniques. Do you think I'm that stupid? Do you seriously think I could undo his curses? You think I haven't tried?! I tried everything to free my mother, but... there's nothing I can do. I don't know where the other Valkyries are locked up. I don't know what I should to do. I became... powerless."

You sat on one of the many thrones of the Valkyries, biting your lip, holding back tears. You were helpless. There was nothing you couldn't do to save your parents and the Valkyries. Tyr moved closer, sitting on the ground, facing you. He ran his fingers over your forehead, brushing a strand of greasy hair out of your eyes. How long have you been waiting here? How long have you been fighting those who had the misfortune to approach the breach? You no longer looked like the smiling, lively girl Tyr saw training with the Valkyries. He had seen you flying many times in the skies of Asgard and Midgard. Tyr sighed, running his fingers over your cheek.

"You must not be left alone with this sadness. Mimir and Sigrun would like you to continue living. They would not want you to stay here waiting for death to come and get you."

“How?”

"Come with me. I can help you. If you want, of course." Tyr stood up, extending his hand towards you.

You looked at the gap one last time before looking at Tyr. You placed your hand in his, accepting his offer. You rose from the throne, following the God Aesir outside the council of Valkyries. Tyr had taken you to safety. Where he was sure Odin wouldn't find you. He helped you build a house on the mountainside. He installed a magical barrier to protect you from Odin's evil eyes. It would come as no surprise that the Allfather spent his time observing your despair. Tire was sure to build you a sufficiently comfortable house. He had done everything alone. You stayed in your corner, brooding. Guilty for having abandoned the one who saved and educated you. Tyr had been patient with you. He didn't complain when he finished building your house and the furniture. He hadn't complained when you just laid back in the bed, not moving an inch.

Anger had given way to sadness.

Tyr had stayed with you, making sure you ate well and that you left the bed and the house for a bit. He had installed a five kilometer protective fence to allow you to go out a little and hunt in the woods.

“I understand your pain, (Y/N). More than you think,” Tyr said as he walked through the forest, alongside you. "You'll get through it. But for that, you also have to put in the work. It's not healthy to lie down all day either."

"To do what?" you asked resignedly. "I always trained with the Valkyries or father taught me his wisdom. Other than waiting for the norns to free me from this suffering, I have nothing to do."

"It's wrong!" Tyr exclaimed, glaring at you harshly. "You are the daughter of the Queen of the Valkyries and the smartest man of this Nine Kingdoms could bear! You were trained by the Valkyries! They would be ashamed to know what you have become!"

You felt your heart tighten upon hearing his words. Would your family be ashamed of what you have become? You leaned against a tree, sliding down the trunk, sitting on the ground. Tyr sighed, kneeling in front of you.

"Forgive me for raising my voice. But you can't let Odin win. You have to show otherwise. Take charge of your life. Even though he took away your wings, you are still capable of fighting back. fight, to be diplomatic. You are smarter than Odin. What he wanted by doing this to you was to see your reaction, to see what you were capable of doing when you were in the grip of despair ,” he said, taking your face in his hands. "This is all just a perverse game for him. A game that you are capable of winning. You are strong."

"Me? Strong?"

"Yes, you always were. You just forgot. I want to help you. But for that, you have to let me help you," he said, wiping a tear from your cheek. "Do not succumb to despair as Odin wishes."

"I... I don't know if I'm still capable of fighting. I... my mother and the Valkyries... I... I haven't finished my training. My father always had things to teach me.”

“I'm not saying I'm as good as the Valkyries or Mimir, but with my travels, I can teach you some things,” Tyr announced, letting go of your face. "Now you're going to get back up and become even better. You better be ready. I'm not going to let you down."

Tyr kept his word. The months in Midgard were punctuated by training. The God of War made you leave your bed at dawn to do yoga or tai chi. According to him, it allowed him to clear his mind and rethink his priorities. After that, he trained you in combat. Even though Tyr was peaceful, he wasn't the God of War for nothing. He had learned many things from his travels. The first fight was tough. You never thought you would be so exhausted and in pain. Every muscle in your body hurt so bad and the punch he delivered to your stomach had made you give up your meal. After that, you couldn't move. Tyr had to carry you back. You sighed, laying down on the ground, staring up at the sky. The Sun was setting, tinting the sky orange and pink. Tyr made his weapons disappear before sitting down beside you.

"You have made enormous progress in such a short time. This shows the training of Sigrun and your aunts," praised Tyr who was as out of breath as you.

“Thank...I guess,” you said, sitting up.

“I mean it,” Tyr replied, glaring at you. “You look better like this.”

"How so?"

"Haven't you noticed that you no longer have your nightmare form?"

You took out your sword, observing your reflection in the blade, seeing that Tyr was not wrong. You had your human form again. You ran your hand over your cheek putting your sword away.

“That’s a good thing,” Tyr said, smiling at you. “You’re taking back control.”

"But then... if I regain control. Does that mean it's over?" you asked, wrapping your arms around your legs. “Will you leave me alone?”

“In all honesty,” he began, moving closer to you. “Once we’re near you, it’s hard to let go of your presence.”

Following this confession, you blushed. You stood up abruptly, exclaiming that you were coming home first. You were in the house, slamming the door so Tyr would stay outside. You remained leaning against the door, not knowing what to do or think about this confession. Was it difficult for him to get rid of your presence? What did that mean? Why would Tyr say such a thing? It didn't make any sense. You jumped when you heard the God Aesir knocking on the door, asking to come in so you could discuss what he had just told you, but you were afraid to open the door. You were afraid of what Tyr might say or do. You weren't stupid, but with all the training and teaching you received, you never had time to be interested in men. Especially because of Odin's unhealthy and obnoxious behavior from his other sons and grandchildren.

"(Y/N)? Will you let me in?" Tyr asked, knocking on the door again.

"I...I can't do this!" you exclaimed, leaning against the door. "I... something is going to happen! I don't want anything to happen!"

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm sorry for putting you through this embarrassment. I...what I meant was..."

"No! Shut up!"

Silence fell, you slid along the door, sitting on the floor. You buried your face in your arms, thinking about Tyr's words. You had lost everyone you loved. Were you willing to risk losing someone else? Were you ready to hear his words?

"You don't have to let me in, but know that it's not just empty words. I...I greatly enjoy your company. When you left Asgard, I looked for you. I was... I had to find you. I had to know that you were okay. I had to see with my own eyes that you were alive. I was... happy and relieved when I I saw the council of the Valkyries. I... I was ready to return the Nine Realms to be able to find you. I always appreciated your presence. I always appreciated our discussions. I enjoyed observing your training with the Valkyries. When you fought, you did it with such fervor that no one could look away. Once they see you, it's hard to look away."

You felt like your face was on fire. Why did Tyr have to tell you such things? You raised your head, looking at the door uncertainly. Should you open the door for him? But you knew that if you opened the door, it was going to be a point of no return. You stood up, staring at the door. You took a deep breath, grabbing the handle. You took a deep breath, opening the door.

A voice in your head told you it was a mistake to allow Tyr inside. She told you it was a mistake when he kissed you. She told you it was a mistake when he undressed you to make love to you.

You had decided to ignore that voice and allow Tyr to touch you like he did. You could still feel his warm hands caressing your body. You allowed him to love you and you allowed yourself to love him back.

You wanted to be happy and you were. You were happy with Tyr. You were happy when he proposed to you. Tyr managed to make your discomfort disappear. This joy has lasted several winters, until this day. One night, you woke up to find your husband standing in the wide open doorway. Tyr watched the wind blow fiercely and the rain crash onto the ground.

“Tyr,” you called, sitting up.

“This storm does not bode well,” Tyr said without turning his attention from the garden. "What do I have to do?"

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, leaving the warm bed to move closer to your husband. Tyr was taken out of his thoughts. He placed his golden eyes on your person. His stern expression softened when he saw you. He ran his hand over your cheek.

"I'll have to go to Asgard," Tyr announced.

"Asgard? Why would you go there?" you asked, feeling terror overcome you.

Why would Tyr want to return to Asgard? It was suicide. Odin was probably waiting for this moment to attack him. You shook your head, walking away from your husband. Tyr sighed, closing the door behind him, moving closer to you.

“(Y/N)…”

"This is what Odin is waiting for. He is waiting for you to come back so he can trap you!" you exclaimed, looking at him in horror. "He's already taken my wings, my parents and the Valkyries. If I lose you too, I... I don't know if I can handle it."

You sat on the bed, unable to imagine a world without Tyr. The God of War Aesir was all you had left in his Nine Realms. He had saved you. He had stopped you from falling into madness. If Odin were to take it away from you, you didn't know what you would be capable of against yourself or against Midgard. Tyr came to settle at your side. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against him. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before pressing his cheek to it.

"I already told you: once we are near you, it is difficult to get rid of your presence. And besides, what kind of husband would I be if I abandoned my wife?"

“The kind of husband who will be chased by his wife so that she can kill him with her own hands,” you said, looking severely at Tyr who was smiling, laughing slightly.

“I don’t doubt it,” he replied, resting his forehead on yours. "I promise I'll come back to you, (Y/N). I'll only be gone for a few days."

It was all a lie.

Tyr never came back to you.

You waited. A moon passed, then two, then three and so on. Yet you continued to wait for him, crying in your bed, becoming cold from his absence. It took you three winters to realize that Odin probably didn't let him leave Asgard alive. The Allfather had succeeded. He had taken your beloved husband from you.