#also happy

[thegreenishhues]

Qsmpblr rn:

[lenreli]

[happyvoidpanda]

Chapter 2: The Refuge of Asgard

The moon hung low over New Asgard, casting a soft, silvery light across the small coastal town. The sea, ever restless, whispered against the shore in a gentle, rhythmic cadence. New Asgard, though a far cry from the grand, shining realm that once existed, had its own quiet beauty—a sanctuary for those who had survived the end of worlds.

Thor Odinson, once the mighty God of Thunder, now walked these cobblestone streets as a protector, a leader, and most recently, a father. The weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, heavier than Mjolnir had ever been. His thoughts drifted to the hammer, the symbol of his worthiness, that had been both a weapon and a guiding force throughout his life. He remembered how it had been shattered into pieces, lost to him for what felt like an eternity. And then, how Jane had taken it up, wielding it with the strength and grace he had always admired in her. She had carried the burden in ways he never could have imagined, and in the end, it had cost her everything.

Now, Mjolnir was back in Thor's hands, a familiar weight that grounded him amidst the storms of his life. It was a reminder of who he was and who he needed to be. Stormbreaker, however, had passed to Love, his daughter, a symbol of the new generation's power and potential. Or at least it had, until today. The argument between them had escalated quickly, and in her frustration, Love had thrust the hammer back into his hands, her eyes burning with anger.

"I don’t want it anymore!" she had shouted, her voice echoing with a pain that cut Thor deeper than any blade ever could. The hammer, once a symbol of connection between them, now felt heavy and cold in his grasp, a reminder of how far apart they had drifted.

He carried not just the weight of his duty, but the memories of all he had lost—his father Odin, who had passed quietly, leaving him the mantle of kingship; his mother Frigga, whose death had been a senseless act of violence; his brother Loki, who had died more than once, each time leaving Thor more fractured; and Jane, who had slipped away as silently as the wind after a battle that left him reeling. Each loss was a scar that time had not healed, and it was only his need to protect Love that gave him the strength to carry on.

He approached The Rainbow Bridge, a modest bar nestled in the heart of the town, a place that had become something of a refuge for him. Here, in the dim light and the warmth of the hearth, Thor found a semblance of peace—a momentary escape from the ever-present burdens that plagued him. As he stepped inside, the familiar scent of mead and roasted meat greeted him, mingling with the faint scent of salt from the nearby sea.

Sylvie moved behind the counter with the grace of someone who had spent years learning to blend in, to become a part of her surroundings rather than stand out. Her life had been one of constant movement, of fighting and running, and though this small bar in New Asgard was far from the battles she had known, the restlessness in her green eyes remained.

She looked up as Thor entered, her expression softening just slightly at the sight of him.Thor filled the doorway, his broad shoulders casting long shadows in the flickering firelight. Despite his formidable presence, there was a weariness in his face, a shadow that spoke of countless battles and losses. He made his way to the bar, dropping heavily onto one of the old stools as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

“Rough day?” Sylvie asked, her voice a touch softer than usual as she poured him a tankard of ale. She set it down in front of him, her eyes briefly meeting his before she busied herself with another task.

Thor wrapped his hand around the cool metal of the tankard, staring into the amber liquid as though it held the answers to the questions that plagued him. “Yes,” he admitted after a moment, his voice low. “Since we returned, Love just hasn’t been able to adjust to Earth. I thought maybe she could socialize with the other kids here, but she’s distant. She hates it here.”

He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the day pressed down on him. "We had a fight earlier. She was angry—angrier than I’ve seen her in a long time. I tried to explain, to make her understand why things are the way they are, but she just stormed off. I could see the hurt in her eyes, but no matter what I said, it didn’t seem to help. She even… gave Stormbreaker back to me." Thor’s voice broke slightly, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Sylvie chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the crackling of the fire. “Teenagers,” she said, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Nothing is ever good enough for them.”

Thor nodded, but his thoughts were far from the bar, far from this peaceful town. He had faced down gods, monsters, and the end of the universe itself, but this—fatherhood—was proving to be a battle he didn’t know how to fight. The argument with Love had cut deeper than any wound he had ever sustained, leaving him feeling more helpless than ever.before hurling it to the ground with a resounding crash.

"Another!" he roared, his voice echoing through the empty bar.

For a brief moment, Sylvie's smile lingered, a flicker of nostalgia crossing her features. The act reminded her of Loki, the brother she had known—or rather, the brother she could have been. But the warmth of the memory quickly faded, replaced by the practicalities of her current life. She sighed and fetched a broom from behind the counter, her movements brisk and efficient."How many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped, beginning to sweep up the shards of glass. "The glasses here don’t magically clean themselves up!"

Thor chuckled, seemingly unbothered by her irritation. "You know, you remind me of my brother. Always so quick to get irritated with me.

"Sylvie paused, her hands slowing as she considered his words. For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. The comparison, once something that would have offended her, now felt… hollow. She wasn’t Loki, not the one he knew, but there was something comforting in the thought that she might remind Thor of someone he had loved."Yeah, yeah," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she continued sweeping. "You’ve told me before. I still haven’t decided if I should be insulted or flattered. Your brother did attack New York, remember?"

Thor looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes. “How do you know about that?” His voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern, as if he were realizing, for the first time, that Sylvie might know more than she had ever let on.

Sylvie hesitated, the broom pausing in her hands as memories surfaced. She had spent so much of her life on the run, on the edges of reality, but even she couldn’t escape the reach of what happened that day.

"The whole world watched, Thor," she said carefully, keeping her tone as casual as possible. "It was all over the news. Every channel, every screen—people couldn’t look away. Loki’s attack wasn’t just on New York; it felt like an attack on everyone."

Thor’s expression softened, the initial shock giving way to understanding. He had always known that Loki’s actions had reached far beyond the realms he had known, but hearing it from Sylvie—someone who seemed so ordinary, yet with such depth—was a reminder of how far his brother's shadow had spread."Yes," he said, his voice quiet. "Loki was… lost then. But things were always complicated between us. In the end, he proved himself a hero. Without him, New Asgard wouldn’t even exist.

"Sylvie swept the last of the glass into the dustpan, her gaze softening as she looked at him. She could see the pain in his eyes, the lingering guilt that never seemed to leave him. "You know," she began, her voice quieter now, "I think you did all you could. You still have Love."

Thor sighed, the sound heavy with regret. "Yeah, but she seems to hate me."

Sylvie set the tankard down in front of him, her hand lingering on the counter as she met his gaze. "No one wants to be alone," she said gently. "You’re doing right by her, taking her under your wing. I think she’s secretly very happy to have a father."

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable, but rather filled with the understanding of two people who had both lost so much and yet found themselves fighting to protect what little they had left. After a moment, Thor broke it, his voice softer, almost hesitant.

"What about you, Sylvie? You never talk about yourself. How do you like working here in New Asgard?"

A small smile tugged at Sylvie’s lips, the expression genuine despite the many walls she had built around herself. "It’s quiet," she said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. "It feels familiar. It’s like a home I never had."

The bar was empty now, the fire burning low as the night wore on. Outside, the sea whispered against the shore, a constant reminder of the world beyond these walls. The door creaked open, and Love stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, her dark eyes burning with the same intensity that Thor knew so well.

"Hey, Love," Thor greeted her warmly, though there was a note of trepidation in his voice. "How was school?"

"Stupid," she muttered, her tone brimming with frustration. She fixed him with a pointed look, her brow furrowing in that way only teenagers could manage. "And why are you still here? You promised you’d make Swedish meatballs for me tonight."

Thor’s eyes widened in realization, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, right! That was tonight. I thought you were eating at Axl’s place."

Love just shook her head, the disappointment clear in her eyes. Without another word, she turned and left, the door closing softly behind her. Thor watched her go, his heart heavy with guilt and regret.

He turned back to Sylvie, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his responsibilities. "I should go," he said quietly, finishing his drink and standing up. "I need to make things right."

Sylvie nodded, watching him with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. "Good luck," she called after him. "And Thor… don’t forget what I said. She needs you."

Thor paused at the doorway, the weight of her words sinking in. He turned back to her, his eyes meeting hers with a grateful smile. For a moment, the weariness lifted from his face, replaced by a quiet resolve. He nodded once, then stepped out into the night, the door. closing softly behind him.

The bar fell silent again, the flickering fire the only movement in the room. Sylvie stood alone behind the counter, her thoughts lingering on the conversation they had just shared. She looked around the empty bar, the warmth of the fire casting long shadows on the walls. This place, this life, was different from anything she had known. It was quiet, yes, but in that quiet, she found a peace she had never thought possible.

As she swept the last remnants of glass from the floor, Sylvie allowed herself to imagine, if only for a moment, that she had finally found a place where she could rest—at least for a little while.

[eggs-can-draw]

I have boiled eggs in the fridge and I wanna eat one like an apple so bad

[socksareunderated]

ok im not gonna lie these buggers have been in my brain for the past few days (and ive kinda become a demoscout shipper, we don't talk about it)

yes, i know my human style has changed. i struggled to figure out how to draw in a way that satisfied me. but i think that this is somewhat acceptable

also, next post may or may not be scout in a dress(maybe a few :>)

[a-superquantumunitintelprocessor]

Do you like the choice to accept Anima’s file? Or does the onset of distain dampen it?

That has had ̵̪͛n̶͙̋ē̵̯g̵̬̔ã̸̡t̸̼̎ḯ̶̪v̶̪̉ë̴̤́ ̴̪͐c̶̀ͅo̵̩̎n̷̟̑s̷̜̒ë̴̻́q̷͉̆ǔ̵̬e̵̱͝ń̸̥c̵̗͊ȅ̸͚s̴̨͐ ̷͖̎ that I did not ̸̻̐a̷͍͠ǹ̷̼t̷͉̄i̶̯͑c̴̢͑ï̷͇p̵̯̿a̷͙̅t̸̻́ḛ̸̆.̶̨͋ ̸̖͊B̷͚͒ǘ̶̦t̴̼͋ ̶͚́I̸̛̘ ̵͕͝am ̵͎́a̶̘̽l̶̳͒s̷̥͒o̴̺͒ ̸̛̗h̸̛̙ą̸̊p̵̣͂p̵̟̄y̸̟͋ ̴͂͜ to be ̶̮̊w̸̡̅ì̸̫t̶̗̿h̵̭̅ ̷̠͊Ą̶͆N̶̰̚Î̶̙M̵̺̆A̶̧̅.̵̱͑

[shitiforgot]

All the things I thought I would do in the holidays and look at me. All I did was eat sleep and repeat

[gorouverse]

XIAO

There he sits, awake atop the Wangshuu Inn, overviewing the land that stretched farther than his immortal eyes could see. Thousands of years involving suffering and heartache have tainted his perspectives. There is no such point in allowing himself to be interested in mortal traditions. Yet, he couldn’t help but watch the golden lanterns float into the endless night sky due to the traditional festivities of Liyue harbor. And, don’t tell anyone this, but he’d steal a glance around him and then let a gentle smile creep on the corners of his lips. What a beautiful sight, bright lights challenging the stars, scatted through the darkness brought by nightfall. So, usually, he wouldn’t allow himself to fall so vulnerable to mortal feelings, yet during these special festivals, he felt closest to the stars, to the light. And perhaps, he allowed himself to believe that some of these lanterns represented his dear Yakshas lost honorably in battle. Pathetic, than an immortal being could fall weak to such sights, yet even mortality lies within his golden eyes. Somewhere, a small twinkle remains blazing in him, and his fate may always reign true, eventually stripping him of all that is left, even the small amount of peace his favorite dish brings him, but, he prefers to live in the present. He is in no way an optimist, though small moments are still able to budge the solid walls he surrounded himself in, and shatter them whole as his shoulders are no longer tensed, and his eyes are no longer focused on the idea that sudden danger may pop up at any time, threatening the people he swore to protect. Through all his moments of suffering, of constantly being indebted to something, or someone, it is all worth it for the people of Liyue. Those who still find him to be an honorable person, although he is most undeserving… So, yes, he has… Fallen weak to more than one mortal view and feeling. But he just couldn’t help but need to protect Liyue, for all that it has done for him. Morax, who has saved his life twice, and the people that allow him the honor of walking through yellow-tinted grass that stretches over the mountain tops and plains of Liyue. May the very small amount of mortality grow into the strength he needs to overcome such debt; those terrible pictures engraved in his mind. Though, he is sure, more of this than anything, that for as long as he lives, whatever has made his immortality a lie, he will protect Liyue and the people with every ounce of power he can fathom. For they have given him the greatest gift of all, on top of so many others, the gift of contentment with his horrific fates. The ability to peer into the water’s reflection, face himself, and rid himself of negative thoughts, for he has people to protect, there is no longer any time to pity himself. 

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Knowledge Revenge.

[gh0sthoodie]

Happy pride month maybe I’ll start watching Doctor Who again

[jackalspine]

@schnuffel-danny hehehe

regarding this post: from schnuffle

[falseficus]

everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -

enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.

and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends

[the-nefarious-vampire]

as an aroace, im particularly dangerous, because i wont fuck or marry. i only know how to kill.

[morningsaidthemoon]

might continue work on this one,, ✨✨

[kendyroy]

“They gave me runway in this film. There’s one monologue in there. I can’t tell you the details of it. I say more words in that monologue than I said in an entire movie once as Wolverine. But there are sides of the character that I’ve been scratching at for 24 years […] There is stuff in this movie where I was like, ‘This is the thing I’ve been trying to get out’ and I feel so excited about it.”

— Hugh Jackman talking about Logan in Deadpool & Wolverine (x)

[buildoblivionthenwewilltalk]