nadunacreates

[thekeeperofbalance]

ft the fact that i plan on having a combination of rick's design of olympus & everything being in ny, but also keeping the mythology with its people (tho that's a bit nebulous, but whatever)-

aka camp half-blood stays in long island, yeah

camp jupiter? - still in california

but also: the world trade centre holds an entrance to olympus which is still on mt. olympus and the people do not need to leave their home continents to go to a safe place- olympus is still on olympus, the mountain, rome is still rome, etc- it's just the gods are no longer restricted, they are everywhere-

also kinda just like. rick did this for the egyptians and the norse??? why couldn't the greeks and the polytheistic romans (as compared to the christian/catholic romans) have multiple places of existence???

like. i'm also getting rid of the place-specific things, like álfheimr (alfheim) and niðavellir (nidavellir) not resembling boston and shit but also valhǫll (valhalla) and ásgarðr (asgard) being. like where they were modelled after in norse mythology-

also bye-bye bifrost bc that Did Not exist b4 like snorri sturluson-

actual norse mythology is super interesting, like immensely so-

rick did freyr & freyja so dirty- like, yeah, odin and thor were important, but. uhhhh ppl worshipped freyr & freyja as MUCH bc they were the FARMING gods and important

i feel like this post does a bit to establish my love for sociology, psychology, and anthropology- i love learning abt ppl it's amazing-

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part Three}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Three

Things heat up between you and Elijah as you prepare to rescue Gerda and Henrik. In the pursuit of your sister things get bloody and an unexpected warrior comes to your aid.

♡♡ I'm sorry that this one is taking so long, there will be a part four! {and possibly five}

6k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots violence in this part. SMUT!, virgin!reader, hot springs, norse runes... sword fights.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four} {Part Five}

It was a four day journey to the coast, a market was there that sold all kinds of things, including people. Elijah believed that was where the Blackthornes were taking Henrik and Gerda.

The snow was still high, but it had thawed enough for you to travel on horseback, the wind whipping at your face. You leaned into Elijah, his body warm and solid against yours, the scent of him filling your senses.

You were glad he was there with you, his strength and determination a comfort, especially after losing your home and family. You had fallen for him, the attraction between you growing with every day. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't deny what you felt, the need for him, the desire.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against your cheek.

"Aye," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart fluttering at his closeness.

"We will find them, sweet Gerda and Henrik," he promised, his arms were around your waist, holding the reins, guiding the horse, "we will not let the Blackthornes keep them,"

You nodded, swallowing hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The thought of them being sold into slavery, or worse, made your stomach twist.

You stopped to camp for the night, the sun dipping below the horizon, the stars twinkling in the sky. The wind howled around you, the cold biting at your exposed skin.

Elijah started a fire, the flames casting a warm glow around you, the warmth chasing away the chill. The two of you had grown very comfortable around each other, falling into a routine, each taking on the various tasks of setting up camp, cooking food, and caring for the horse.

You took a walk to go fetch some water from the nearby river, the moonlight illuminating your path. You came across a small hot spring, the steam rising into the air, the heat and humidity inviting.

You were tired and sore from the long day of riding and the idea of relaxing in the hot water was too tempting.

You took off your clothes and slowly stepped into the water, the heat enveloping you, the water soothing your muscles. You let out a long sigh of relief, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

You heard the sound of twigs snapping behind you and turned, your eyes flying open.

"Elijah," you gasped, your face flushing, dipping lower into the water to hide your naked body.

"I was worried when you didn't return, I see why," he smiled, his eyes roaming over you, his gaze making your heart race.

"I haven't felt this good in weeks," you sighed, "the heat, it's relaxing,"

Elijah began to pull off his clothes, his gaze locked on yours, his body rippling with muscle.

You felt a wave of desire rush through you, your pulse quickening, a flush spreading across your cheeks. You turned away, giving him privacy, the thought of him naked making your stomach flip.

You heard him enter the water, the sounds of him splashing, his breathing shallow. You risked a glance back, his broad back was to you, the water coming up to his waist.

"Gods," he muttered, "this is wonderful,"

You let out a breathy laugh, "Aye, it is,"

The two of you faced away from each other, the silence heavy with tension, the heat of the water seeping into your skin.

"What will you do? After we rescue Gerda and Henrik," you asked, gently moving your hands through the water, creating small waves.

"I do not know," Elijah replied, his voice low and soft, "perhaps find my own land, start a family,"

"That sounds nice," you murmured, a hint of sadness in your voice. You wouldn't be going with him, your place was with Niklaus. Elijah would be a part of your past, a fond memory. You couldn't imagine not being near him, not being with him, the thought made your chest ache. "I wish you could stay with us," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

"As do I," Elijah said, his voice thick with emotion, "but we both have our duties,"

"Aye," you said, biting your lip, tears welling in your eyes.

You glanced over at him, his back was still to you, you noticed a particularly large scar stretched across his back, the pink skin raised and uneven.

You moved closer to him, the water making soft ripples as you did, your hand reaching out to trace the scar, "what happened here?" You whispered, your fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin.

He twitched under your touch, his muscles flexing, his breathing labored. "My father, he beat me, whipped me," he said, his voice a whisper, the pain evident. "For trying to protect Niklaus,"

"I heard such rumors about your father, that he was cruel," you whispered, your heart breaking for them, and the pain they endured.

"Aye, he was," Elijah sighed, "he was not a good man, but he was still my father, and I loved him,"

You pulled your hand away, his words echoing in your mind, your chest aching for him. He turned to face you, his gaze meeting yours, his expression soft, his eyes searching.

You swallowed hard, the air heavy between you, the tension crackling. He was so close to you, his naked body inches from yours. Your breasts rose and fell with each breath, your nipples hardening at the thought of him touching you, his hands exploring your body.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek. You wanted to pull him closer, to feel his lips against yours, to give in to the desire burning within you.

"Elijah," you whispered, your heart racing, a flush creeping across your skin.

"Aye," he breathed, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"I..." You swallowed hard, your body aching for him, "I should not have..."

"Do you love him? My brother?" Elijah whispered, his eyes burning into yours.

You hesitated, the truth of it all hitting you. You did not love Niklaus, not in the way you should, not the way a bride should love her groom. Your heart belonged to Elijah, even though it was wrong, even though the gods would not approve.

"I..." You started, your voice trembling, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you, "I do not,"

He kissed you, his lips soft and warm, the passion and heat between you consuming you. You lost yourself in the feeling of his body, the taste of his lips, the touch of his hands. The two of you gave in to the desire, the lust, the need for each other.

He guided you backwards towards the rocks, your back pressing against the smooth stone, the cold sending a shiver through you. 

"We should not be doing this," you moaned, the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your skin sending waves of pleasure through you, "the gods, they will punish us,"

"Then let them punish," he murmured, his voice like a caress, "if it means I can spend one more moment with you, I will gladly accept their wrath,"

He lifted you, the water lapping around your thighs, his hands gripping your ass. The heat from his body contrasting with the cold air, the feeling of his manhood pressed against you made you feel glorious.

"I've never been with a man," you whispered, trying to conceal the nervousness in your voice, your body trembling with need, the excitement and desire almost overwhelming. "Have you been with a woman? Did you...?"

"Once," he whispered, his voice husky, "but it was not love, not what I feel for you,"

Your heart raced, the feel of his strong body, the strength of him, made you feel alive in a way you had never known.

He kissed you, his lips brushing against yours, soft and gentle. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. His touch was so tender, so loving, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

His eyes met yours, his fingers dipped below the waterline, and pushed slowly between your legs, causing you to gasp and jerk back, the sensation new, overwhelming.

He smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling, the look of desire that filled them making your stomach flutter.

"Do you feel that?" He whispered, his fingers teasing the place between your legs, his touch eliciting a reaction you'd never imagined possible. 

"That is a taste of Óðr, the god of divine madness," he smiled and when he began moving the small nub between your legs with a calloused thumb, you moaned aloud.

He lowered his head to yours, his lips capturing yours, his tongue teasing, tasting. You surrendered to him, to the feelings coursing through you, the passion and desire burning inside you. You'd never felt like this before, the sensation of his touch, his kiss, was almost too much, your breath coming in small gasps, you were on the verge of something, something you'd never felt before.

The combination of the heat of the water, the warmth of his breath on your cheek, and the insistence of his fingers were doing something to your body. Your muscles began contracting, pushing towards something new, something blissful.

Then you felt it, ᛞᛁᚡᛁᚾᛖ ᛗᚨᛞᚾᛖᛋᛋ (divine madness) a feeling of rapture, an explosion, a storm. Your body alight with pleasure and a yearning for more of whatever he would give you.

He pressed his lips to yours, like he could taste your pleasure, and you knew you had been given a precious gift. Your hands clutched at his chest, your eyes locked on his, your heart fluttering, no longer caring that the gods might see you and punish you both. You parted your lips and with a soft moan he slid his tongue into your mouth and kissed you like he was drowning and you were air, his grip tight on your body.

You wanted more, the madness taking hold of you, your hand slipping beneath the water to caress his manhood, a thrill washing through you as he twitched and groaned.

You knew enough about what men and women did to know he could place himself between your legs, thrust forward and be inside you. You had heard some of the wives claim it hurt, while others hinted at immense pleasure. But you didn't care. In that moment, your mind was a fog of desire, your body singing for him.

He pressed himself against you, searching your eyes for permission, his gaze heavy with want. You locked eyes with him, giving him a small nod and he eased himself into you. There was no pain, only a dull stretch of pleasure and fullness. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hips moving slowly, thrusting into you. You dug your fingers into his hair, moaning as he filled you, your bodies coming together in a dance of passion and lust.

"ástin mín (my love)" he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his breath hot on your cheek. You clung to him, lost in the moment, his body moving in sync with yours, the feeling of him buried deep inside you was more than you could have imagined.

The water churned around you, your bodies moving together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The pleasure was building, a coil of ecstasy twisting tighter inside you. His hands gripped your waist, his gaze locked on yours, the need and desire between you binding you together, the need for release overwhelming.

And then it hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, his body shuddering as he found his release, the two of you clinging to each other, the world around you fading away.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes shining with emotion, his hand cupping your cheek. "And I do not care what the gods have in store for us,"

"Elijah," you breathed, a warmth filling you, your heart fluttering, "I love you too,"

He pressed his forehead to yours, his hand cupping your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the scent of him, the sound of his voice.

"í þessu lífi og því næsta (in this life and the next)" he whispered, his gaze locking on yours, the look of adoration in his eyes making your heart race.

You smiled up at him, lost in the love you shared, "í þessu lífi og því næsta,"

Fear gripped your heart as you felt the weight of a raider on top of you. His face contorted into a terrifying grimace as he looked down at you. The stench of his foul breath washed over you, making you feel sick. He lifted his arm, intending to bring his axe down on you.

You screamed and woke up in your tent, Elijah watching you with concern. He reached out and took your hand, rubbing circles onto your palm in an attempt to soothe you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he whispered.

You moved closer into his waiting arms, settling in between his legs, resting your back against his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

"You are trembling," he said, nuzzling your hair with his nose and continuing to rub small circles into your palms. "Another bad dream?"

"Aye," you muttered.

"Tell me what you saw."

"The raid, it haunts me," you said, swallowing hard, "the screams, the blood, the bodies,"

He hummed softly, kissing along your shoulder, "It haunts me as well,"

You closed your eyes, letting his gentle kisses wash over you, chasing away the darkness. His warmth and strength were a comfort, making you feel safe in his arms. You let out a sigh, sinking into him, the feel of his skin against yours a reminder that he was there, protecting you, loving you.

"You need to rest, tomorrow will be a long day," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his hand gently stroking your arm, his words soft and soothing.

You nodded, the memory of your dream still fresh in your mind, the images leaving an ache in your chest.

His hands began to roam, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. You moaned softly as his fingers grazed your skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Since your first time together in the hot spring, the two of you had not been able to get enough of each other. Every night you would succumb to the desire between you. With each touch, each kiss, your feelings for each other grew deeper, the bond between you strengthening.

He would use his mouth, his hands and his body to give you pleasure, to bring you to the edge of bliss, to teach you every sinful thing you could do. He taught you how to please him, and in return you learned that you held power over him. To watch his eyes darken with lust, his face a mask of pleasure as you rode him, it made you feel like a Valkyrie.

"I cannot sleep," you whispered, the memory of your nightmare fading, the ache inside you building, your skin tingling.

He chuckled, laying back, pulling you down with him, holding you close. Bringing the furs over you, cocooning you both.

"After we rescue Henrik and Gerda, I will make love to you in a bed," he whispered, kissing along your neck, "not the ground or in a spring,"

"Or against a tree... or the side of a hill..." you smirked, a hint of playfulness in your voice, "I can keep going," you teased, turning to face him, your hand caressing his cheek, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"Aye, or that," he laughed, his hand cupping your rear, his touch sending a jolt of desire through you.

"What will happen to us?" You whispered, your expression clouding, "what will we do?"

"We will find a home, a land where we can build a life together," he murmured, his thumb tracing along your bottom lip, "where we can be together," he paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his features, "that is if you want to come with me," he whispered, the hesitation and vulnerability evident in his voice. He searched your eyes, his gaze intense, his heart open and exposed.

"I want nothing more," you replied, your voice a whisper, the words tumbling out, your chest aching, "I could not imagine my life without you," you added, leaning into his touch, his skin warm against yours. "But... What of Niklaus?" 

"He.... he will adjust," Elijah sighed, "it will not be easy, but he will understand," he said, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mixture of worry and affection. "I hope," he added, his brow furrowing.

He sat up and stretched, the sun just beginning to rise, beams of light filtering in through the opening of the tent. You watched him, the muscles in his back flexing, the curve of his rear, the broadness of his shoulders. You let your eyes wander over his body, committing every detail to memory.

"Since sleep is evading me, I shall go and hunt," he smiled, pulling his tunic over his head, his hair messy and wild, "there are still a few hours before we must leave, and I want to ensure we have plenty of food,"

You smiled up at him, nodding, "I will gather the supplies and get the horses ready," you said, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

He leaned down and kissed you, the familiarity of his lips against yours sending a wave of heat through you. His hand cupped your cheek, his eyes filled with adoration and desire. He lingered, his thumb stroking your cheek, his eyes filled with longing and need. You pulled away, your heart racing, a flutter of excitement blooming in your stomach.

He turned and walked out of the tent, leaving you alone, your mind swimming with thoughts of him. You fastened your hair into a long braid, your thoughts consumed by the upcoming battle, the plan laid out, the odds stacked against you. A pang of fear gripped your heart, the weight of responsibility and duty on your shoulders, the fate of your sister in the balance. You shook your head, forcing the doubts away, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

Elijah returned with two rabbits, the scent of blood making your stomach twist, the thought of the coming battle, the risk of losing Elijah or Gerda making you nauseous. You usually didn't mind the sight of blood or the scent, but today it made you feel ill. You swallowed the feeling and quickly got to work, cooking the rabbits over a small fire, your mind whirling, your thoughts a storm.

"It will be a long day," Elijah said, handing you a flask of ale, "drink, it will give you strength,"

You thanked him, taking a sip, the taste of honey and berries filling your mouth. You handed the flask back to him, and he took a drink, his expression grim.

"The market will be busy, but we will be able to blend in with the crowd," he said, packing away the rest of the supplies, "there will be plenty of Blackthornes, so be wary,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, he took your hand in his and squeezed.

"Do not lose hope," he said, his voice steady, "we will rescue Henrik and Gerda,"

You gave him a small smile, the confidence in his words easing some of your worry.

"If we get separated, meet me back here," he said, his expression serious, "and remember, keep a low profile, do not draw attention to yourself,"

You nodded and kissed him softly "I will,"

The smell of fish and salt hung in the air, the morning market in full swing. Merchants and traders lined the streets, their wares on display. Children ran and played, their laughter echoing through the bustling town.

The slave markets were separated from the main market, but the smell of death and blood still permeated the air. The screams and cries of those being sold haunted the town.

Elijah walked alongside you, his expression tense, his hand gripping his sword. You could feel the tension rolling off of him, his worry for Henrik and Gerda obvious.

As the two of you passed the slave pens, a woman caught your eye, she was sitting on the ground, her head in her hands. She reminded you of your mother, her hair the same color, her eyes the same shade.

You wanted to free her, to tell her she was going home, but Elijah grabbed your hand, pulling you along.

"You can't help them all," he said, his voice low, "we must find the young ones,"

You nodded, following him through the crowds, the noise and chaos making your head spin. Your heart pounded in your chest, your stomach churning, the anxiety and fear coursing through you.

The sight of the gallows was a stark reminder that this was a dangerous mission, that one wrong move could lead to death.

The crowd was thick, the heat and stench of the bodies pressed together unbearable. You could hear the auctioneer shouting, his words muffled, the air thick with anticipation.

Elijah pulled you to the side, the two of you standing at the edge of the crowd. You could see a few men wearing Blackthorne colours scattered about. It gave you hope that Henrik and Gerda might be nearby.

"This is our chance," Elijah said, his voice low, "keep your head down and follow my lead,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You followed him down to the water, to where they loaded the ships with cargo. The slaves were being kept there until the auction began.

That's when you saw her, your sister, chained and shackled. Her hair was matted and dirty, her clothes tattered and stained. She was thin, her face gaunt, her eyes haunted.

It took everything in you to not run to her and wrap her in your arms. You bit your lip, your fists clenched, the urge to free her nearly overwhelming.

You squeezed Elijah's arm, and he turned, his eyes widening when he saw her.

"Go, I'll distract them," he whispered, before stepping forward.

You watched as he approached the Blackthornes guarding the prisoners. His stance was relaxed, his voice smooth, his demeanor calm and confident.

You could tell the men were suspicious, their eyes narrowing, their hands gripping their weapons. But you couldn't worry about him right now, you had to focus on freeing your sister.

You approached the slave trader, a tall man with broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"How much for the girl?" You asked, nodding towards Gerda.

The man's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze lecherous, making you shudder.

"She's a pretty one," he said, his voice a low rumble, "but she's a feisty one, needs a firm hand,"

You swallowed hard, the thought of her being touched, abused by a monster like him, made you want to scream.

"So will that lower the price?" You asked, forcing a smile.

The man considered, his eyes raking over you again, "Aye, a fair trade,"

He held out his hand, and you took it, his grip tight, his skin rough. With the other hand you grabbed the dagger at your waist, and plunged it into his neck.

He collapsed, unable to make a sound, you looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the men were still distracted by Elijah. You grabbed the keys off the trader's belt and quickly unlocked the shackles around her ankles and wrists.

She blinked up at you, her eyes wide, her expression confused. The pain in her eyes broke your heart, you could only imagine what she had been through.

"Systir?" She said weakly, her voice hoarse.

"Aye, Gerda, it's me," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She clung to you, her arms wrapping around you tightly, her tears dampening your tunic.

You pulled away, helping her to her feet. Her legs were weak, her body trembling.

"You've got to be strong," you whispered, "do you know where Henrik is?"

"He was sold," she choked out, her face crumpling.

"We'll find him," you said, gripping her arm.

Just then you heard the sound of fighting. You turned to see Elijah and the men locked in combat. Blood was pouring from a wound on his arm, but he didn't seem fazed. You felt torn, wanting to help him, but needing to get Gerda out of harm's way. You knew what you had to do and what he would want.

"We need to get out of here," you said, pulling her away.

The sound of battle rang out, the clang of swords, the grunts and shouts of the men. You scooped Gerda up into your arms, and she wrapped her arms around your neck.

"Hold on, Gerda," you whispered.

She buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged, her body shaking. You ran back to the market, slowing your pace, trying to blend in with the crowds.

You could hear the men shouting, the sounds of their pursuit growing louder. You weaved in and out of the crowds, trying to lose them. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing. Suddenly a hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

It was Niklaus.

You felt immense relief wash over you, seeing him there, safe.

"You're alive," he gasped, his voice hoarse, his eyes wild. "Do you know what happened to Elijah? to young Henrik?" He asked, his gaze darting around, looking for danger.

"Henrik is gone," Gerda sobbed, her face red and blotchy, "sold, not long ago," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Niklaus' expression darkened, his jaw clenching, his eyes flashing with anger. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head, "I'm fine, I'm taking Gerda somewhere safe, Elijah was fighting the men who held them captive,"

Niklaus cursed under his breath, he looked like a true warrior, his head shaved into a mohawk, the Mikaelson colors painted on his face. You could see his muscles rippling underneath his tunic, his chest and arms were covered in tattoos. The scars on his arms and face told the story of a fierce fighter, one who had survived many battles. It had only been a few months since you had seen him, but he had changed so much and so had you.

"Take her and leave," he growled, "go to the forest, hide there,"

"I won't leave without Elijah," you said, your tone firm.

He gave you an odd look, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. But now was not the time to dwell on it, now was the time to act.

"Stay safe," he said, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

You pulled Gerda along, keeping to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight. The sound of battle echoed through the market, the cries of the wounded, the clash of steel. You came across the stables, her weight growing heavier with each step. You could feel her heart pounding against your chest, her breath coming in short gasps.

As you approached the stables, you could hear the sound of a man's voice, the familiarity of it making your hair stand on end. Einar.

"We need to hide," you whispered, setting her down.

She leaned against the wall, her chest heaving, her body trembling. You looked around the corner of the barn to see Henrik on the ground, Einar looming over him.

Your blood ran cold, rage burning inside you. You gripped your axe, the familiar weight of it calming you.

"Stay here, Gerda," you said, your voice low.

She shook her head and clinged to your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

"You can't take him," she whimpered, "he's too strong,"

"I have to try," you said, pulling her into a hug, you handed her a small dagger Elijah had given you, "take this, if anyone tries to hurt you, use it,"

She nodded, her eyes filled with fear.

You crept around the corner of the barn, the stench of urine and manure assaulting your nose.

"Not even worth the money I paid for you," Einar snarled, kicking Henrik in the stomach.

The boy groaned in pain, his eyes scrunched shut, his fists clenched.

"Get up, boy," Einar spat, grabbing Henrik by the shirt, dragging him to his feet.

You charged at him from behind, raising your axe and striking him in the back with all your strength.

Einar stumbled forward, dropping Henrik. The boy fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, his eyes wide with shock.

"You bitch," Einar growled, whirling around, his eyes filled with fury.

Cold fear shot through you, the sight of his scarred face, his cruel smile making you freeze. Your axe still in his back, you backed away, reaching for the dagger at your waist.

Suddenly, Henrik leaped onto Einar's back, his arms around his neck, trying to strangle him.

The sight spurred you into action, and you ran forward, stabbing the dagger into his shoulder, his scream of pain echoing through the stables.

Einar thrashed, trying to shake Henrik off, but the little warrior held on, his face grim with determination.

The three of you struggled, the fight raging, your breath coming in short gasps, the sound of steel clashing ringing in your ears.

Your body ached, the blows Einar landed, his punches, kicks and elbows leaving their mark. But you and Henrik managed to bring him to his knees.

He roared, flinging Henrik off his back, and the boy slammed into the wall, his body limp.

Einar's hand went to his waist, and you knew what was coming, he was going to grab his sword and cut you in half.

You scrambled backwards, the adrenaline coursing through you, the fear making you frantic.

You were cornered, no way out, no escape.

He raised his blade, his face twisted in a cruel smile. Gerda screamed and ran forward, putting herself between you and Einar. You cried out, trying to stop her, but she ignored you. Her face was a mask of fury and determination, her body trembling, but she didn't hesitate, didn't flinch. She stared up at him, her fists clenched, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Don't touch my systir!" she shouted, her voice strong and clear.

Einar laughed, "Two children and a woman? This will be fun,"

He raised his sword, the blade glinting in the sunlight. This was it, the moment of death. You closed your eyes, waiting for the pain, wondering if you would be worthy of Valhalla, if one day Elijah would find you there.

But the blow never came.

You opened your eyes, blinking against the harsh light. But then his expression turned to shock, a pitch fork jutting out from his chest. He fell to the ground, the weapon buried deep, a gurgling sound coming from his throat. You knelt beside him, his blood seeping into your clothes. You watched the light fade from his eyes, the life leaving him.

Behind him stood a dazed Henrik, his blade bloodied, his eyes wild with rage. He grabbed Einar's sword and threw it to you, and you caught it.

You stood up, feeling dizzy, your body aching. You could taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth, your wounds finally catching up to you.

"Henrik!" Gerda cried, throwing her arms around him, sobbing into his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her, his expression a mixture of relief and pain.

"I'm alright, Gerda," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It's over,"

They both looked at you, their eyes shining with gratitude, they both looked like they'd seen hel, their bodies covered in cuts and bruises, their faces gaunt and pale. They had seen and experienced too much, too young. You reached out, and they both embraced you, their arms wrapping around you, their tears wetting your clothes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I'm so sorry,"

"You came for us," Gerda said, her voice barely audible. "That's all that matters,"

You squeezed them both, feeling the warmth of their bodies, their hearts beating, their breathing, their life.

"Come," you said, forcing yourself to stand, "let's get you both home,"

Your horse was nearby, the stallion waiting patiently, seemingly unbothered by the commotion.

You got them both on the horse, handing Henrik the reins, he wrapped his arms around Gerda, and the two of them clung to each other, their eyes filled with hope.

"Go to the forest, wait for me there," you said, giving the horse a pat, "I need to find Elijah and Niklaus,"

"My brothers are here?" Henrik asked, his eyes widening.

You nodded, "they'll help us get home,"

The stallion took off, Henrik guiding him towards the forest, the two of them fading from sight.

You headed back to the market trying to gather your thoughts, the pain and exhaustion making it hard to think. You had to find Elijah, and Niklaus.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four} {Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[adracat]

G Witch and Norse Mythology

I think we all know Okouchi harks to both Utena and The Tempest with the writing, but an influence that's underexplored is Norse myth. The following will be a quick mention and breakdown of these references, starting from the blatant to obscure.

Fólkvangr

Show: Hidden laboratory inside an asteroid. Under the control of the Vanadis institute and where the bloody events of the prologue occur.

Norse: Field ruled over by the goddess Freyja where half of those that die in combat go upon death, whilst the other half go to Odin in Valhalla.

Vanadis

Show: The institute which pioneered the GUND-format and gundams. They were disbanded and violently stopped in their medical and military operations.

Norse: Also known as Freyja, Vanadis is a goddess of war, fertility, and witchcraft/magic. She has dominion over Fólkvangr.

Gundams Lfrith Ur and Thorn

Show: Gundams piloted by the witches from Earth; Sophie and Norea. Sophie pilots Ur while Norea pilots Thorn.

Norse: Ūr or Uruz is a rune meaning the following-

It governs shaping and forcing fortunate circumstances creatively through will and inspiration, self-healing and maintenance of good mental and physical health, assertion of home ground, personal space, independence and freedom, strength and tenacity, courage, persistence against all odds. Uruz is a symbol of the wild bovine, a reminder that cattle were once wild creatures. Uruz represents young warriors. https://runesecrets.com/rune-meanings/uruz

Thorn or Thurisaz-

It governs destruction of enemies, curses binds and fetters, awakening the will to action, breaking resistance of blockages in body, mind and spirit, Increased potency and prowess in romantic relationships, and understanding of the division and separation of all things. Thurisaz to be described as a thorn that is most sharp, a grim and evil thing to take grip on or touch. Thurisaz is also a fertility rune in the sense that it breaks down the barren and hard, rocky realms into workable soil as to bring fruitfulness to crops and wombs. https://runesecrets.com/rune-meanings/thurisaz

These are just the ones I caught so if you see another, feel free to comment! The next will just be speculation based on my own knowledge.

Yggdrasil and Odin

It occurs to me as I drink in this image composition that it looks similar to Yggdrasil, or the world tree in Norse myth. Aerial forms the trunk/branches while the people are its leaves. Considering all the norse references thus far, it feels intentional. And I fully believe it is when you spot Miorine falling towards the base.

Her fall to the base of the 'world tree' is relevant because of this image. In Norse mythology, Odin has one eye because he sacrificed it to the Mimisbrunnr (Mimir's well located beneath Yggdrasil) in exchange for a drink of the well's water. It grants Odin wisdom and insight. It wouldn't surprise me if Mio is forced to make a similar trade during S2, either to solve a problem or make an escape. (from QZ maybe?)

I'll likely add to this if I notice anything else

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 10

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

TEN: Let the Sleeper Awake

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

-

Summary: Simon returns in time for the May Day celebration, wanting to surprise his doll, but watching her perform has him viewing her in a very different light.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Spice- just a pinch, Mention of masturbation, Fluff & Feels, Simon checks out doll, Doll checks out Simon, Idiots in love lust, the 141 have a chat sesh, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Beltane (a.k.a. May Eve/May Day) is a fire and... ahem!... fertility festival. So, I thought, what better time for Simon and his doll to finally realize that there's a little more than friendly feelings between them. Let the sleepers awake. 😏)

Word Count: 2.9K

-

Chapter 10

-

“Beltane magick here we sing

Chant the rune and dance the ring

Joy and blessing shall it bring 

Let the sleeper awake!”

― Doreene Valiente, Beltane Chant

-

The village green was a hive of activity, preparations for the May Day celebration in full swing.

Booths, tents and stalls lined the streets, vendors setting up their wares and stocking up for the large crowds expected for the two-day celebration. An abundance of flowers, real and fake, decorated the whole of the village’s heart, garlands and wreaths attached to every available surface, every shop window sporting bright floral displays.

The maypole had been raised at the back of the green, its brightly colored ribbons fluttering in the warm breeze. The volunteers performing this year were gathered off to the side taking a break from their practice, you and Fiona among them.

The two of you had been roped into volunteering, so you both had to learn the performances from scratch. Fi especially was struggling with the interweaving moves, cursing under her breath every time she made a misstep.

“If I’d known it was goin’ t’be this big of a pain in me arse, I would’a hid in the loo when I saw Margie comin’,” she groused, wiping a forearm across her brow. She turned up her bottled water and took a large gulp as she glared at Margie Bartleby, proud owner of the Tea Room and the entertainment director of the festivities this year. “All tha’ woman needs is a bloody whip t’crack over our heads.”

You sniffed in amusement, not bothering to comment. You knew Fi was just venting her frustration and didn’t mean a word of what she said. You and she both adored the older woman, though you had to admit that Margie could be a right task master when she wanted to be.

You sipped at your water as you pulled your cell from your back pocket to check your notifications, drifting under the shade of a tent to see the screen better. You were hoping to see a message from Riley, but you were again disappointed.

He’d been gone since the last week of March, only a week and half after you had moved in with him. There had been no word from him save for a single text around mid-April to tell you if all went according to plan, he might be home by the end of the month. You had really been hoping he would make it back in time for the May Day celebration, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. He always seemed to be deployed during holidays.

“Still no word?” Fi asked, joining you.

You sighed and slipped the phone back in your pocket. “No.”

She nudged your shoulder. “Maybe ye’ll get a May Day miracle an’ he’ll show up dressed like Jack o' the Green.” Her grin turned lewd. “Can’t ya just picture it? Riley wearin’ nothin’ but a patch o’ moss over his dangly bits with oak leaves stuck all in his mask?”

“Fi-ona!” Heat crept up your neck to your cheeks, yet the image she created popped unbidden into your head.

Your face grew hotter as you imagined him dressed as Fi had described, the mental pictures in your head far from chaste. Riley was built like a Norse god, and even with the mask he earned his fair share of appreciative glances. You couldn't help but look, too; you were his friend, but that didn't make you immune to him.

When you heard Fi laughing at you, you blinked out of your daydream and narrowed your eyes. “Shut up,” you hissed at her, but couldn’t hide your wry smirk.

“Come along, lovies! Break's over!” Margie called to the group. “Let’s get back to it. We need to practice the bonfire procession and dance next!”

Fiona groaned, scowling. “God, I’ll be glad when we’re done with this. Never again,” she vowed as the two of you trudged back out to the green together.

-

Simon sat back in his seat, eyes focused out the window of the plane, half-listening to Soap and Gaz arguing about how they were going to spend their first night on leave. His cell phone was in his hand, your last text open. It was an image of the green decorated for May Day.

“Oi, Ghost! Ya should come with us t'night. We’re goin’ to that new pub in Hereford,” Gaz invited.

Simon slanted a glance his way, dark eyes glinting inside his skull mask. “Can’t. Got plans.”

“Ah, c’mon, mate. Readin' in your bunk isn’t plans,” Gaz replied, scoffing.

“Did ye ferget?” Soap spoke up, a mischievous smirk on his face as he bumped the other sergeant's arm. “Ghost has t’get’ home t’see his doll dance. Ain't tha' right, LT?”

Simon scowled at him. The nosy bastard had overheard him tell Price about you performing in the May Day festival, after the captain had asked him how "his doll" was doing. So, of course, Johnny hadn’t shut up about it since, pestering him for intel about his ‘wee doll’.

“Oh, that’s right,” Gaz drawled, his smile spreading wide. “Maybe we should go home with Ghost, then. You can introduce us to your doll.”

“Not happenin',” Simon gruffed. “Ya lot ain’t gettin’ anywhere near ‘er.”

Soap chuckled, puffing out his chest. “Worried I’ll nick yer lass, LT?” He smoothed his hand over his mohawk, flexing his bicep with a cheeky grin. “Canna blame ye. There’s a lot here t’tempt her away,” he teased, making his pecs jump beneath his tight tee. Gaz cackled.

Simon stuck his phone back in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down at the sergeant. “Ain't worried. Dee knows a wanker when she sees one."

"Oh-ho!" Soap crowed. "So, it's Dee, is it? Slipped up an' said her name, LT." He winked at Gaz as Simon muttered a curse. "Dee an' Johnny. Got a nice ring to it, aye?"

“Enough, lads,” Price called from behind his laptop, not even bothering to look up. The two immediately shut their gobs.

As soon as the plane touched down, Simon was up and heading down the ramp as it lowered. Grinning like a devil, Soap was ready to head after him when Price grabbed him by the back of his tac vest and hauled him back. 

“Bloody hell, lad, give it a rest,” he uttered lowly.

Gaz came abreast of them and leaned into whisper, “We just wanna know about her, Cap. I mean— it's Ghost. Kinda hard to imagine him havin' a bird. Has he told ya anything about her? Have ya seen a picture of her?"

Price scrubbed at his beard. “Never met the lass. Ya lads know he likes to keep his personal life private. Now, both of ya, leave it alone.”

“Canna believe yer no' a wee bit curious, sir,” Soap persisted. “Would ye no' like t’meet the lass tha’ caught the Ghost?”

Price wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t curious, but more than anything, he was just glad to see his lieutenant at ease, for a change. He was still a right broody cunt, but his attitude had definitely improved. “Lads, as long as she makes him happy, that’s all I care 'bout. Now, mind yer bloody business an' leave him alone, yeah?”

“Think he’d show us a picture of her if we asked nice?” Soap wondered aloud, undeterred. "I bet she's a right bonnie lass, aye? Have t'be t'get the LT all hot an' bothered." He waggled his eyebrows.

Price dragged a hand over his face and groaned.

-

Simon ended up parking behind the Dog when he finally made into to the village. Coming through the alley, he could see the crowd milling about the green and vendor booths, the smell of fried food and sweets wafting down the ginnel on the breeze. His stomach growled and he cursed himself for not eating something before leaving the base, but he'd been in a hurry to get home.

He usually stayed on base if he wasn't deployed when events like this were going on in Banfield. He hated dealing with the extra traffic and large crowds that descended on the village, but he could suck it up and deal with it just this once, since it was for you.

Apparently, he'd made it back just in time. Most of the crowd had gathered near the back of the green around the maypole, Margie's familiar voice loud and clear over the PA system as she announced that the maypole dance was about to begin.

Simon pressed through the throng of people, ignoring the looks and startled gasps as they shuffled out of his way. His eyes scanned over the dancers, searching for you, his eyes going a little wide when he spotted you standing with your back to him.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he felt like he'd been poleaxed, his dazed eyes roving over your figure. You were dressed like the other dancers, wearing a pastel satin undress covered in layers of wispy, see-through tulle, but the underdress clung to your breasts and hips, the swell of your bum accentuated by the slippery material. When you shifted your weight to pose in the starting position, a split in the underdress revealed the length of your thigh, the layered tulle separating to expose it.

Simon's mouth fell open under his surgical mask, eyes avid as the music began to play. He watched with rapt attention as you skipped and dipped and twirled, weaving in and out with the other dancers to braid the colored ribbons around the pole. Your hair had been left loose, a crown of flowers on your head, makeup done to give your features an ethereal cast. You looked like a fairy, flitting around, he mused. A really curvaceous, sultry, sexy fairy...

A familiar feeling tingled low in his abdomen and the front of jeans were suddenly too tight. He shook his head, grunting at his base reaction, but now that he'd seen you this way, he knew there was no denying it. You were stunning, the prettiest bird he'd ever seen. His pretty doll. Possessive pride welled up in his chest, straightening his spine and lifting his chin. That was his beautiful doll out there dancing; his.

When the dance ended, all the performers took a bow and then the crowd surrounded them. Simon hung back, waiting, wanting to see your expression when you finally spotted him.

So worth the wait.

It was Fiona that saw him first, nudging your shoulder and whispering at your ear as she pointed him out. The slight frown of confusion on your face transformed into a look of joyous surprise, your smile wide and beaming as you rushed to meet him, crying out, "Oh, my God! Ri!" as you leapt up to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

It stunned him at first, being greeted that way. Anyone else would have found themselves thrown to the ground with a knee in their back, but you? You he caught up in his arms and held on tight, breathing you in as his hands molded to your back and waist like he had done this a thousand times. It was instinctive and felt so right.

You pulled back to gaze into his eyes, your smile becoming something softer, more intimate. "I'm so glad you made it, Ri. Can't believe you're finally home. I've missed you."

His chest went tight, a pleased flush warming his face. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Missed ya, too, doll. 'S good t'be home."

He had a sudden, intense urge to pull down his mask and kiss you. His fingers twitched on your back, muscles spasming in his arms. He couldn't recall the last time he'd kissed a woman on the lips, but damn if he wasn't gaggin' to bloody do it now. From the soft, hazy look in your eyes, he didn't think you would mind it, either, which only made the temptation worse.

You both turned your heads, startled, when Fiona giggled. She was already lowering her cellphone to look at the pic she had just taken. Simon tensed, his first instinct being to bark at her to delete the photo, but then another idea popped into his head.

He lowered you to the ground, stepping behind you before planting his hands firmly on your hips and pulling you back against his chest. "Take another one, Fi. Want t'send one t'my team."

She dutifully took the picture, smiling as she stepped forward to show you both how well it had turned out. "That one's a keeper."

Simon stared down at the picture, liking the way the two of you looked together. A rush of heat coursed through his veins at the sight of his hands on your hips, your hands covering his. He glanced over at your face as you studied the photo, and he could only describe your expression as incandescent; you were bloody glowing.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into his side as his eyes met yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Definitely a keeper."

-

Simon ended up with dozens of photos saved on his phone by the time the festival was over. His favorite was the one Fiona had first taken, the one where he was holding you up in his arms, your heads together. He set that one as his screensaver.

However, the one he viewed the most was the one he took at the bonfire the last night of the festival.

He took it during the bonfire dance, you and the other dancers circling the high flames as you swayed and undulated in a jaw-dropping, frenzied dance that had wrecked his world. His heart had been beating as hard as the drums, his eyes fixated on you with a predatory intensity.

Then you had looked at him.

You had seen him in the crowd, a teasing, open-mouthed smile directed his way as your arms lifted over your head and you rolled your hips in a move that punched the air out of his lungs. He had lifted his phone and snapped the photo, capturing the moment.

He captured your sultry smile, that hooded gaze that was meant just for him. Your body's curves stood out in stark relief against the dark, your silken skin aglow from the flames. Every time he looked at it, he ended up in the loo with his cock in his hand, choking back his groans as he desperately fisted himself to completion.

It was bloody torture watching you disappear into your own bedroom later that night, every cell of his body on fire with the need to follow you. He didn't, but he wanted to. It was the fear of losing you that finally had him shuffling off to his own room, settling for your photo and his calloused hand.

It was on Sunday afternoon that he got a notification that the team was in their private group chat. You and Fi were gone to the shops, and he was sitting on the patio, drinking a Stella and enjoying the garden. Might as well join in, he thought; he had nothing better to do at the moment.

As soon as he entered the chat, Soap and Gaz started asking for details about the festival and, of course, you. Feeling a bit sadistic, the first photos he shared were of the green, the bonfire, the pub.

[SOAP]: Come on LT. U ken what we want! Show us a pic of ur doll. 😏 [GHOST]: No [GAZ]: Pleeeeaaaase!!! 🙏🏿🥺 [PRICE]: Bloody hell. Ignore them, lad. [GAZ]: We just want to see her Cap... [SOAP]: Is she ugly? I bet shes ugly. [PRICE]: SOAP! [GHOST]: Far from it johnny [SOAP]: Ur killn us LT! Just 1 pic pls pls pls!!! [PRICE]: Stand down, Sgts! Jesus Christ!

Simon couldn't help himself. He wanted to show you off. There was a smug smile on his face when he forwarded them the photos of you in a zip file.

There was a minute of inactivity, then the messages began to ping in rapid fire succession.

[GAZ]: That's ur doll?! She's bloody gorgeous, m8! 👍🏿 [SOAP]: sTEAMn fUKnJESUS!!!! [SOAP]: Insta-chub 👀🍆 [PRICE]: Well done, lad! She's a beauty. [SOAP]: Shes ded bonnie. U should introduce me 😈 [GAZ]: When can we meet her??? Is her friend single? 😏 [PRICE]: Behave, lads...

Simon huffed in amusement, feeling rather cocky as he began typing.

[GHOST]: Thx cap. [GHOST]: Her friend is single gaz. [GHOST]: U can suck it johnny. She's MY doll [GAZ]: Yeah. Suck it Soap! 😅 [SOAP]: Fair enough but... [SOAP]: Can I keep the pic of her @ the bonfire? [PRICE]: Christ. I need bloody a drink. Congrats, Simon. *(PRICE has left the chat.) [GHOST]: Hm. Just the one pic? [SOAP]: 🙏🥺 PLS??? [GHOST]: LOL [GHOST]: Hell NO [SOAP]: 😭 [GAZ]: 🤣🤣🤣

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[timomoe]

What are your thoughts about the split between the immortal personification as an individual and the immortal personification as a symbol of the state? I read your post about Sweden's (the character) cruel behavior in the past and can't say I agree with it. I think there should be a clear separation between the actions of the state and the personification. It's more reasonable that a personification is a representative of the culture and people, not a state's authorities alone. It's also vulnerable to historical bias when certain sources can cast historical events in a very positive or negative light, for instance the idea that Swedish authorities were exceptionally cruel to Finland, which is unusually negative and not a fair representation of the relationship between them in my (Swedish) experience.

Besides, making the personification carry out the actions of the state also means that the fictional character affected real-life historical events. The unfortunate implication is lessening or excusing the actions of the real people who planned and carried out those events.

See, the thing about this is that while Sweden is a personification of the people, and I typically think of nations as such, they're still people. People who can and probably have fallen prey to propaganda, lies, "re-education" in Sweden's case, and other such things.

To be more specific, I'll share more of my hcs regarding him with you.

I like to think there's a 50/50 split between a nation first being a human, dying, and becoming a nation, and a rep just appearing one day. Sweden was the former, born around 900.

He was a very weak and sickly child born to the old Norse - and this is a very bad thing. You may know that Spartans would abandon sick/weak/disabled kids to die, but did you know that the old Norse did the same thing? When Sweden was about 4, his parents abandoned him in the woods, and he died. And then he came back, as he was "chosen" to be the nation of Sweden. His parents then tried to get rid of him 3 more times (abandoned him in the woods one more time, and threw him in the ocean twice).

No one really knew what to make of him or what to do with him. Was he a god? A demigod? An evil entity? Half jotun? No one really knew, so they kept a distance between him and the rest of the group. They kept him busy with menial labor they didn't want to do.

Sweden went unwanted and unloved by his people for the ENTIRE TIME he was a child. And then the kingdom of Sweden properly formed, and he was taken to live with his royals. He was fed there, clothed well, given medical care, education, everything he could ever want. And he began to internalize the idea that he owed his existence to the royalty, NOT the people, as the people had been his biggest antagonists since the day he walked back out of the forest and back to his family. And the government took full advantage of this. Who wouldn't want an undying soldier to do everything they asked?

I would also like to note that I explicitly (/lh) stated that Sweden's cruelty and Finland's abhorrent treatment were not due to any exceptionally horrible history between the two; while Sweden DID colonize Finland, it wasn't as nasty as my out of context headcanons would lead you to believe. As said in that post, Sweden's cruelty towards Finland came from their personalities being exactly opposite, Sweden being hungry for control and dominance, being under intense pressure, and Finland taking the blame or covering for mishaps by other nations in the house, making Sweden believe that he was simply the worst behaved and most in need of a harsh lesson.

As a side note, we also have characters being forced to do things by their government canonically (such as mass killing as a specific example, Russia participated in Bloody Sunday, despite not wanting to) so to me it also seems correct that a government would also take advantage of a young and frightened boy and try to turn him into a soldier fit for whatever purpose they need him for. Even if they are a representative of the people, the government can still force them to do what they want, and probably could make them believe that they do represent the government.

Note that your last point is specifically why I never mention what events, what battles, or other such things Sweden is involved in. It does separate them a little. And I understand that this sort of thing isn't for everyone, and that's perfectly fine.

[huntressofladyartemis]

Hello ✨🏹

Hi everyone! Well i want to talk a bit about me… I'm from Argentina, i don't speak english very well, i help myself with the translate. I know the basic 😅 I love to draw, to read and i like animals! I'm christian but also i love greek and egyptian gods 🤗 I'm searching about the norse too, but at the moment i focus myself in the greek and egyptian, specially Artemis and Isis, my two fav goddesses, but i like all of the deities ♡

I'll avoid and ignore some posts wich are disrespectful with the gods and blame them… You see, i'm not a hellenic polytheist yet, i recently discover it and i searching more about it, it will be lovely to worship Artemis one day 🏹🌙 But at the moment i'm just a big fan an lover of the gods and goddesses. Is hard to separate the myth from the gods, but i read one day… "The myths are not the gods".

You see, of course that the myths brings us some info and descriptions of many deities, but you have to remember that those stories were written by poets and dramaturgs, whose also had their own ideas and opinions. Many of them had some "anti-gods" ideas, like Ovid who wrote his texts after he was exilied by the roman emperor (sorry i can't remember very well his name 😫). So we can't take the poet's works as a "valid despiction" of the deity… Don't forget the myths cotradicts theirself in so many cases. Also, i prefer the hymns for made a good despiction of the gods or goddesses ✨

But the point is, please try to respect the deities, because they're not just simple characters of a story, they were gods worshiped and loved. Also now, they're still worshiped, so please don't be disrespectful with the deities. Also please don't attack the worshipers… I saw people who attacks a certain god or goddess worshiper and that is awful, respect if you want to be respected.

I come back with the fact that the myths were written by people with their own opinions… That's the reason why some god or goddess do something contradictory in a story and another. But also remember that the gods's actions in the myths were simbolic, a metaphore. The myths were for bring a lesson or sometimes to explain "why this exists?" or "Why is this object consecrated to this god or goddess?". Stop please attacking the deities!

The myths sometimes don't show the gods with good light, but that doesn't meant that the gods are bads…. They're NOT "bads" or "goods", please stop of judging a god's action for his/her myth… Ares wasn't hated by all, he is the protector of women and he had temples! He had a temple in Athens! Athena's city! We can't take a myth wich paint Ares as cruel and bloody or said that "he is the most hated god, even his parents hate him" NO! Stop! Same with Athena… So many people blame her for what she did to Medusa… She didn't! It was a story written by Ovid. Artemis and Apollo are also blamed, Hera and Zeus too, Demeter… PLEASE STOP INSULTING THE GODS! The myths are stories written by mortals for the mortals! Also if you insult a god or a goddess, you're insulting the culture too, because they are a reflection of their cultures (egyptian deities for Egypt, greek deities for Greece), so please, be respectful 🙏

We all can enjoy those stories, but without blame or insult the deities, please 💙

And another thing… The retellings. I'm not against the retellings, i think they are very interesant and is good to see the gods are still loved and people write about them. But some people need to know what a RETELLING is… I know about fans of certains retelling attacking deites's worshipers because what that god or goddess does in that retelling. There's a big diference between a retelling's character and the god/goddess himself/herself, some people seems like they can't see the diference and prefer to attack worshipers… Please stop with that! Yoy can't enjoy a retelling without blame or attack other who worship o simply love the deity that your retelling took for it story?

Sorry, but i get angry when i saw those posts or comments against the gods 😞

Also sorry if my english is not good 🙏

That's all at the moment, i hope i could find friends with the same passion and a very sane community of deities lovers 🤗

PD: I'm working in my own webcomic retelling with the Delian Family as protagonists 🤭 I'll be fair with all the gods and goddesses, because i want to share my love for them ✨ If anyone have an idea or something to say about Leto and her twins, please tell me because will be a honour to put that in my story!

[dreamsoffantasty]

━━ ❀               𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒    𝐏𝐞𝐲𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡'𝐬    ❀ ( lyrical meme appreciation featuring songs various albums, please feel free to change the pronouns as you see fit  ! some of the lyrics changed to fit better for RP purposes. anything with 'insert ' please put in what you would like to best fit the quote. )      

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐄

❛ The darkness comes alive, feeding on me. ❜

❛ The howling Norse inside, overtakes me. ❜

❛ The time has come to stand and fight. ❜

❛ Draw your axes, let them fly ! ❜

❛ Unleash the warrior you've become. ❜

❛ Rise up, rise up, it is time for war. ❜

❛ Indestructible fortitude, wielding powers of {godname}. ❜

❛ I've got the heart of a warrior, heart of a {insert}. ❜

❛ Nothing can stop me, move out of my way. ❜

❛ Bloodlust is rising, hurricane in my veins. ❜

❛ We are, we are, we are {insert} ! ❜

❛ The sickness all around, infests me... ❜

❛ Chaos inside, runs through me. ❜

❛ The time has come to stand and fight ! ❜

❛ Draw your axes, let them fly ! Release the warrior you've become and fight ! ❜

❛ I've got the heart of a warrior. ❜

❛ Nothing can stop me, move out of my way. Bloodlust is rising, hurricane in my veins. ❜

𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

❛ Winter nights of blood and steel, war amongst {insert}. ❜

❛ Plains being converted to ash, raze the fields and burn it all... ❜

❛ Sound the horns, the enemy shall fear, unleash our war cry ! The battle for {insert} is ours. ❜

❛ {insert}, get ready for war. ❜

❛ This is something worth fighting for ! ❜

❛ Can you taste the blood of man ? ❜

❛ Can you taste the victory ? ❜

❛ Are you ready to die in war ? ❜

❛ Glory in the battlefield, forming lines of dirt and green. ❜

❛ March to claim our history ! ❜

𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

❛ The everlasting darkness, begins to fill into my heart. ❜

❛ A hundred days, a hundred more we sail unto the battle for our home. ❜

❛ My love, I will fight this war for you. ❜

❛ If I fall, I'll see you again. ❜

❛ No matter the fight, I'll stand up and rise. I'll carry this weight across all divides and if it's my time just know that I have loved you ! ❜

❛ As I sail far from home, I can't help but think of you… ❜

❛ I miss everything I love If you hear me Oh I… Love you. ❜

❛ My love, I will fight this war for you and if I fall I'll see you again. ❜

❛ No matter the fight I'll stand up and rise. ❜

❛ I'll carry this weight across all divides. ❜

❛ I'll remember everything with you and I'll remember how you changed me. ❜

❛ I'll remember. ❜

❛ I'll remember everything, and I'll remember till the day I rest my eyes. ❜

𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐑

❛ I feel the aura on the breath of man. ❜

❛ With time let the fear sink in. ❜

❛ The bodies burn, our kingdom falls. ❜

❛ With no sacrifice what's for your kin ? Mercy is a-coming but I'm not your friend. ❜

❛ Do you know who I am ? ❜

❛ I'm the god/goddess of {insert}. ❜

❛ Destined blood filling my veins, commanding my power, annihilating the pain. ❜

❛ I drink from your bones that bled. ❜

❛ Finger on the string and my heart on the bow, one by one falling down like snow. ❜

❛ Armor on the flesh but my blade's in the wound. ❜

❛ You mock my deity ! ❜

❛ Do you know who I am ? I'm the god/goddess of {insert}. ❜

❛ Horns full of mead, as I drink from your bones that bled. ❜

❛ Mercy is a-coming but I'm not your friend.. ❜

𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

❛ The nightmare of eternity, marches right before your eyes. ❜

❛ As the ground begins to shake, Ravens fly amongst the sky. ❜

❛ Battles of great divine. ❜

❛ Torn hearts of fear and cries, let the rage of war ignite. ❜

❛ We were born to rise ! ❜

❛ We're gonna raid all your shit, annihilate your villages, plunder all for the hell of it. ❜

❛ Warriors, stand up, fight ! ❜

❛ You're going down tonight ! ❜

❛ Berserkers, fury of war - ❜

❛ Man/Woman of honor, man/woman of war. ❜

❛ Tales be told forever more - bloody axes, bloody fields, fight with honor, clash of shields. ❜

❛ Fearless soldiers fight with heart. ❜

❛ Haunting lands of man and steel. ❜

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑

❛ The weapon in the storm clashing in the sky. ❜

❛ The horns of {insert}, calls for war. ❜

❛ The ground will shake and the sun will fall and the war bears march as we bellow through the halls. ❜

❛ I will rise and push on through. ❜

❛ I'll prove my might and show my strength. ❜

❛ The limit of my mercy follows you. ❜

❛ I've got the power of {insert} in my hands. ❜

❛ Thunderous hammer that will sing across all the land. ❜

❛ Lightning strikes as I storm through the valleys of death. ❜

❛ You follow the empire ! ❜

❛ Thunderous {insert} that will sing across all the land. ❜

❛ We embrace our fears through realms of the dead. ❜

❛ The path to {insert} is the honor we share. ❜

❛ Blood by oath, iron swords by bond, no matter the realm, we're kings till dawn. ❜

[hollowwrites]

It is Weasley Wednesday My Dudes

I have a Garreth x MC story in the works but for now have this…trash.

No one can convince me otherwise but Garreth has a nickname for everyone…do not question me!!

Imelda - Broomelda or Impy

He read a book once about Norse Mythology and found the Germanic Warrior Brunhild. Something about the powerful Valkyrie and shield maiden reminded him of Imelda and once he’d found a way of shoehorning her name into it that was it:

Imelda: (taking off her flying gear after running another time trial)

Garreth: How are we this fine Thursday afternoon, Broomelda?

Imelda: (turns to stare at Garreth)

Garreth: You know…like Brunhild the-

Imelda: I know who she is

Garreth: See you have a Broom, not a sword…and your name is Imelda…Broom…Imelda…Broomelda

Imelda: …No

After that went badly he started calling her Impy, short and fiesty…could kill you. She likes that nickname

Sebastian - Brother (occasionally Shortie)

Sebastian is an inch shorter than Garreth, if that. Only breaks it out if Sebastian is being bratty or he really wants to wind him up. Started calling Sebastian ‘Brother’ in their second year after he got mildly upset at Anne and Garreth hanging out after Potions.

Now they just call each other brothers out of habit. Anne still gets a little red faced when she hears it and Garreth will never admit he still has a thing for Sebastians sister. Will joke about it constantly though.

Garreth: Please tell me you took notes in Potions

Sebastian: I did

Garreth: Oh thank you Brother!!

Sebastian: (Chuckles) Anytime

Ominis: Is that still happening? This brother ordeal I have to listen to?

Garreth: Well I have to practise for when me and my beloved are betrothed

Sebastian: Yeah yeah, take your notes and be gone

Garreth: (Sighing affectionately) I can’t wait to be Garreth Sallow

Sebastian: Enough thank you!

Garreth: Calm down Shortie (ruffles Sebastian’s hair)

Sebastian: (Sighs)

Poppy - Bumbles

Found Poppy sat amongst the beehives doing homework. She laughed at him when he jumped out of his skin rounding the corner, her Hufflepuff Uniform blending in with the hives around her. Once said the way she flits around the school chasing after beasts reminded him of a Bumblebee. Too much of a coincidence!

Poppy: (Bumping into Garreth in the hallways dropping her books) Ooof Sorry Garreth, can’t see past these books.

Garreth: No problem, Bumbles. Where are we going? I’ll help you carry some

Poppy: Just back to the dorms

Garreth: After you (following after Poppy quietly humming) bzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Poppy: (Giggles) Stop it you!!

Amit - Stargazer

Pretty obvious one. I imagine Amit and Garreth don’t speak very often, Garreth head down in a cauldron and Amit staring off into the sky, their interests don’t always align but he likes to make people feel included.

Amit: Ah Garreth, Professor Weasley, er…your Aunt is looking for you

Garreth: Ugh, Thank you Stargazer. You are My Knight in Shining Armour. (Turns on his heels and walks in the direction he just came, away from his Aunt)

Ominis - Opal Eyes

Another obvious one. Got caught staring into Ominis’ eyes once and blurted out that he thought they were beautiful like Opals. Rolled with it.

Ominis: Bloody Wiggenweld, AGAIN. I hate that blasted potion

Garreth: Oh, Opal Eyes (throwing an arm around his shoulder) How many times have I told you? Sit next to me and I’ll smuggle you some of mine.

Ominis: I’m already blind I don’t want to lose my sense of smell too

MC - Sparkles, Sparkler, Sparks ETC (Modern AU would deffo call them Palpatine)

Have you seen anyone else shoot lightning from their fingers? Didn’t think so. Immediately came up with the name as soon as he witnessed their Ancient Magic for the first time. Teases them every Guy Fawkes Night (Bonfire Night) for hogging all the fireworks in their fingers.

Garreth: Hey I’ve run out of Sparklers, can I borrow you…Sparkler?

MC: Har Har very funny Weasley

Garreth: (stands behind them scooping their hands in his, waving them around as if they were alight)

Bonus:

Leander - Tabby

Thinks his nickname is because he’s ginger. Garreth doesn’t have the heart to tell him; 1) Tabbies aren’t ginger and 2) it’s because he prances around acting like a lion when in actuality he’s a pussy cat.

[yolowritter]

A perspective on understanding Gideon Ofnir

Hello there everyone! This post is going be what it says on the tin, a character analysis/perspective piece on Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing. I'll happily admit that he's one of the most interesting characters in Elden Ring, and I've wanted to discuss him for a while now. Hence the post, obviously. I won't go into any extreme detail here, there's people in the community that have done this far better, I simply want to offer my two cents on why Gideon is a good character. Not "a good person", but "a good character". What's his worldview? What makes him interesting? Why do I personally like him? Without any further ado, let's begin!

First off, let's begin by establishing a baseline of who Gideon is, what era he has lived in, and what we know about him before the Tarnished arrives in the Lands Between. As with all things in Elden Ring, stagnation is a big theme in Gideon's character, if in subtext at least. His design itself is reminiscent of an owl at first glance, with the dark greys and soft browns. His armor especially is littered with eyes and ears, giving way to his matle of The All Knowing. Gideon is very much like an owl, in the metaphorical sense at least. He's ancient, portrayed as wise and clearly very knowlegdeable in the happenings of the Lands Between. His eyes are sharp and his ears wide open, as he often has spies and men at his employ to assist in his endeavors of collecting knowledge. Now, personally I think there's a comparison to be made here with the Norse God Odin, the All-Seeing (amongst other titles), but I'll save that for another, more specific post. The point is that from the moment we see him, Gideon is presented as a wise mentor type of character, and this is immediately reinforced when he moves from the Roundtable's central room to his office/library. In my many, many playthroughs of the game, I eventually realized that he actually does so without needing to kill a Shardbearer, and Gideon even has specific dialogue once the Tarnished interrupts his reading, explicitly stating he's got no time to waste on them, and that he will welcome them to the Roundtable once they've gotten their hands on a Great Rune. Now, at first glance this might make him seem cold and even rude, but think for a moment of where Gideon is coming from. He is old, old enough to have been Leader of the Roundtable for a very long while. He's seen countless Tarnished embark on the same journey as the player character, and one after the other they fail, go mad, or abandon the search for Great Runes. Think on Bernahl, whose related cut content helps us understand he had a Finger Maiden once, and was on the journey to become Elden Lord. Think on Vargram, one of the first Tarnished to sit at the Roundtable, now delegated to a...something in the physical Hold within Leyndell. Admittedly invasions are a tricky thing to explain in-universe, even they clearly are meant to be considering the Recusants and Bloody Fingers actively make use of "multiplayer" items like the Festering Bloody Fingers, which is how the Tarnished gets invaded when travelling the Lands Between. I digress, the point is that other Tarnished (and most famously Vyke) have come very close to becoming Elden Lord, even if how exactly our favorite Dragonspear got to the Erdtree without killing Morgott is unclear. Gideon has been there the entire time, watching one after the other get so very close...only to fail at the last step. It's no wonder then that he dismisses all the current residents of the Hold as weak, or accuses them of seeing the Roundtable as a "mere shelter from the rain". He isn't even wrong in that regard! Diallos and Roderika are soft-handed nobles who were exiled for their Tarnished heritage. They aren't warriors, and Roderika admits this herself. Diallos does so as well, later in his storyline. Corhyn clearly has no ambitions for the throne, instead seeking to "counsel" the would-be Elden Lord once somebody else makes the journey. D rests at the Roundtable partly between his hunts of Undead, and partly because of Fia also basically occupying a room and giving out her blessing. Neither of them care about the throne. Rogier also has his own interests, and until we come along it is completely natural for Gideon to see this drivel and lose faith in the Tarnished. Gideon Ofnir seems to me like a tired old man who put his faith in people time and time again only to get no results. Isn't it natural that he considers us all a joke until someone finally gets a Great Rune? I'd say it's worth pondering him further, and I'll make another post soon about the events of the actual game. See you all soon!

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for @peachy-hina, since December)

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 2: Bows

go to Chapter List>

Dear Mother and Sister, farewell!

Your Nanna may go to her Balder. Our lives were so closely interwoven

That even in death we are mated–

—Cornelia Steketee Hulst, Balder's Death

x

It was Hanabi‘s thirteenth birthday at the Byakugan Estate.  Hinata, sixteen, dressed in a modest but stylish Buon Giorno Armani ensemble, watched her sister return to the stage donning her third ball gown for the evening as the servants wheeled in a trolley carrying a three-tier cake adorned with fresh flowers and pink diamonds. The sisters had invited their friends, and their parents had invited business partners' relatives. They all sang the "Happy Birthday" song. As soon as the final notes lingered, the lights were dimmed, giving eminence to the pink cake’s warmly glowing candles. Hanabi leaned forward and blew them out. There was applause. A server passed by with peach-scented flutes. Hinata stepped a foot forward to hug Hanabi. But just before then, it happened.

It wasn’t gradual, no. Mercilessly and brutally, memories swooped up from within her with a skull-splitting ache. She howled at the pain, at images of resplendent faraway places she had never seen in her present life which had only known lofty opulence, of persons dear and yet unknown in the now, of home called Breidablik, of Hodor’s terrified face with a bow in hand who, being blind, could only imagine that something had gone horribly wrong; of Loki’s grin just before he disappeared in a mist. And herself, Nanna, with dearest Baldur, an arrow stuck to his chest, laying bloodied in her arms, the light in his eyes, in the strands of his hair fizzing out, the early morning glow of his complexion fading.

The cry that tore her throat was raw. The ugly force of it doubled her over, and she crumpled to the floor, clutching her chest tight as she strove breath over the sharp, frosted pieces of what shattered there. She wasn’t amid Aesir anymore—albeit her present parents and their friends were still powerful people over here in lowly Midgard—and when she came to look at her hands, they were clean, her nails coated in Funny Bunny just for her human sister’s birthday. Her wailing reverberated through the halls, but it could never fill the sunk hole that caved in from the surface formerly paved and appearing solidly passable by her forgetfulness, absorbed by the affairs of her human life.

The day after the incident, news outlets buzzed with stories about the first Byakugan Princess causing a scene at her sister’s birthday party. Online speculation ran wild—some suggesting that, because she didn’t usually stand out, she’d gone to extremes for attention, bratty and inelegant. Doctors and experts weighed in with a barrage of diagnoses: schizotypal personality disorder, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, delusional disorder… mainly, that she had a sickness of the mind. Her mother had ordered for her library to be cleared up of all the fiction books fearing the fairytales had instigated this somewhat. But they all missed that hers was a sickness of the heart, a matter striking at the very depths of her soul. 

There couldn’t be anything lonelier: she had come back to life, only to forget about Baldur for a long, long time; she finally remembered him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Struck with a malaise that doesn’t even know where to begin searching, Hinata, once Nanna, had never known the comfort of sleep again. Because even in dreams, Baldur wasn't there.

go to Chapter List>

[the-dreaming-plastic-dinosaur]

Wish List to Father Nintendo for PKMN Legends ZA

Disclaimer : done by two bored persons, one of which is in history

First of all, the Timeline : the trailer talks about renovation, so this is a Huge Hint for Haussmann. In real life, this period lasted from 1853 to 1870. This means a period of 17 years in which we can find many things!

Propositions are as follows, in no particular order:

- Synchro machine ? Would be logical with the trailer we got, and maybe the DLC of ScarVi was a way of testing it ?

- Mad Scientist with proto-Syncro machine isekais you to the past ?

- Something to do with The Commune of Paris, which lasted from 18th March 1871 to the Bloody Week 21st-28th May 1871 ? I mean, we can't have the Revolution but we can still have blood and barricades!

- Access to the sewers and the catacombs!!!

- An evil Sycamore ancestor, since he seemed to have been supposed to be ambiguous

- More buildings appearing the more advanced you are on the main quest

- The Opéra Garnier !!! It was built between 1861 and 1875, so it can still fit the timeline

- OPERA GLOVES AND HATS (more options than with ScarVi! It's Paris, for Arceus's sake !)

- What even is Paris without trains ? So, what is a Legends Pokémon in Paris without a lost Emmet in a train station ?

- Access to parks !

- Universal Expositions in Paris took place in 1855 and 1867 (among other dates, obviously), so maybe a similar event where you can meet NPC from other regions and maybe ancestors of known NPC ?

- ALSO ALSO QUAD ROLLER SKATES WERE INVENTED IN 1863 !!!

Now for specific pokemons :

- A Ratatoskr pokemon to follow the Norse inspiration of XY

- a feraligatr in the sewers (crocodile in Paris' sewers)

- a wailord in the river (orca in the Seine)

- a dusclops in the museum (Belphégor)

- Darkrai or a morpeko in the Opera (The Phantom of the Opera)

- and obviously, past regional forms

- and last but not least PIDOVES EVERYWHERE

[callsignbaphomet]

Saw some gifs of season 2 of Loki and my brain quickly went "Oh, it's Loke time!"

I have a confession to make about my Loke lol

When I first came up with him I hadn't bothered naming him, hell, he didn't even have a backstory. He was just Jelani's older brother. Like I've mentioned before, he was so bare bones because he was just a plot device and was just gonna die bloody and ugly just to emphasize how evil and a piece of shit Iain is.

Buuuuuuuut I decided to name him and give him a backstory and then I fell completely in love with him and decided to not kill him and make him part of the main roster. I really love this character, he is such a darling of a person.

So I was coming up with this character's background, story and details but I didn't know what he looked like or what his name would be. This is where C comes in lmfao.

During the height of the MCU Loki craze C absolutely hated the character. He has since he was little but when the character got popular his hate for him just tripled and honestly it was amusing. I still like the character ngl. Got a soft spot for the bitch.

So I didn't wanna be totally obvious and outright name him Loki (due to the popularity of the MCU character) but while searching names I came across Loke which is pretty much just another way of spelling/saying Loki.

One of his nicknames is Lo but sometimes other characters will use Loki when referring to him. So in a way I snuck that version of the name in anyway.

Lol

I went with it. Plus it just rolls off the tongue so nicely. So now we have a name and a backstory. He just needed to have an appearance.

The Marvel look was not gonna go at all. I already had Jelani with long raven black hair and pale blue eyes. It isn't the same as raven black hair with green eyes but to me it felt similar. So I looked to depictions of the real Loki. Most of the ones I saw were of a pale white male with long wavy/curly red hair with different variations of eye colors. Loved it! Like I constantly say one of my major weaknesses is pale men with long red hair 🧑🏻‍🍳💋

Eyeball color tho was a choice based on a high school memory. There was this one girl in my English class pale, long curly red hair and the palest green eyes I have ever seen. She was gorgeous!

(We come in all shades. Tbh we're kind of a melting pot of rainbows. We range from freakishly white looking to rich and vibrant dark and I love that for us)

So I went with most depictions of the Norse god Loki with the pale white skin, freckles, long wavy/curly ginger hair and a set of pale green eyes. That's how I ended up with a 6'6" teddy bear of a man who's crazy overprotective of his 6'6" baby brother.

So every time I see either Marvel Loki or the real Loki I instantly think of my Loke.

Now excuse me I gotta rb some Loke doodles to satisfy my need to look at my adorable little Nordic teddy bear.

[danwhobrowses]

God of War: Ragnarok - Review

No secrets on how I felt about it given the gif, and to tell you the truth I still have some Berserkers, Muspelheim trials and one very feisty Valkyrie Queen to deal with, but I've dealt with the main story and if I keep delaying it (having to wait over a month to get it because people were nagging me for birthday ideas) I'll end up not doing it, so here's a more in-depth review of the game

Spoilers for the game

So yeah, I really enjoyed the game, probably a little more than the first of the Norse saga, there's plenty it excels at but at the same time there are elements I found were not as good as the previous. We'll get the negatives out the way.

What I didn't like as much Perhaps my bigger gripe (which is an actual gripe) is the combat. The invincibility frames, and lack thereof, are frustrating especially against Elite and Boss fights, you can take a ton of damage when you're doing a Runic attack or you can hit an attack that should stun an enemy and then the enemy will no-sell it and land a stronger blow. With bosses I also didn't like that you couldn't tell between a dodgeable red attack and a red attack where you need to attack them to stagger them, so it can get annoying. Personally I also preferred when summoning the axe was a simple triangle, using the D-Pad does slow my rhythm.

In addition, the Amulet of Yggdrasil is a bit of a downgrade to the equipment slots, there are less customization options as well which makes it harder to get a decent armor build, in the end I stuck with the Survival gear because it had the best stats - which makes you wonder why do you bother with the other sets? I also felt sad that we lost out on some skills and runics, Ivaldi's Anvil thankfully stuck around but all the other Runic attacks I used before didn't transition to the sequel. It would've also been nice for the companion armor to have some stat modifications too.

While it was good to visit all the realms, the time you spend in each realm isn't so well spread out, Vanaheim is beautiful but I lost my senses with how long I was in there, Day/Night based missions with respawning flora catching me out, we spent so much time there and yet Jotunheim, Asgard, Niflheim and Helheim used very sparingly. This transitions into my least critical gripe that we could've spent more time in the main story; take the Atreus quests (or Loki Sennas as I sometimes call them), Ironwood was just one whole chunk and you only get 3 Asgard chapters, which does reduce our time spent with characters like Skjoldr, Thrúd, Thor, Sif, and Angrbroda, I also feel like we could've spent more time with Freyr's rebel squad a bit more, Birgyr's sacrifice may've been undercut by surviving but the act of his sacrifice would've landed much harder if we had spent more time with his character. On lighter sides, I do also wish we had some more creative special bosses, particularly Bitter Squirrel I wanted to smack that rodent around, fighting the Norns would've been interesting - and I do wish we could go back just to show them that we survived anyway - and got to visit more prophecy cabinets' secret rooms just to learn more of the world.

And finally, when we talk about characters, Thor. Now I loved what we did with Thor because he was in many ways a mirror of Kratos, who also found a sense of peace by bettering himself from his brutal, genocidal and bloody past, and while I understand that Odin killing Thor is a big moment, it also sucked that we robbed Thor of the chance to better himself by having him die the first moment of agency he has against his father. While it does represent the continuation of the cycle Kratos tried to avoid by killing Baldur in the previous game (Parent killing Child/Child killing Parent) I felt there could've been more stock in Thor getting the chance to be good, especially with a potential sequel, we could've also done more with Gryla.

What I really liked Of course we can choose 'everything else', because this game is a lot of fun with equal parts of frustrating - unsurprising that previous annoyers like Wulvers and Revenants come back just to join new annoyers like the Dreki and Bifrost users (like seriously that Bifrost Berserker...) - with stunning visuals and music to boot.

Its crown jewel is of course the character building; each character undergoes a compelling journey, most compelling is Thor with how his character is subverted from his stories into a sympathetic grieving character and Kratos' journey to try and find a way to live knowing that Atreus will soon seek his own path. We also got new characters such as college bro Freyr, Angrboda (who exposes Atreus' inability to flirt), rough and tough aspiring valkyrie Thrúd and 'face in the dictionary' bastard Heimdall who made strong impressions without overshadowing the current characters. Odin's role as chief villain as well is great because of how unlike God of War it is, his villainy isn't some hulking muscle sponge for Kratos to skewer like it's a washboard, he's cunning, sly and manipulative, having influenced Atreus throughout the whole story by posing as Tyr (I did wonder why he was caged in such an unguarded area), which leads us into the tragedy of losing Brok. The dwarves' 'chaperoning' did provide some good comedy, and as we built to Brok being without part of his soul we slowly didn't clock onto his death, which hurts even more given how he was both correct to suspect 'Tyr' and we had recently come back from a deep scene of him blessing the Draupnir Spear. Admittedly I didn't like the blipping out animation because it always feels like a bug, but Sindri's grief is a heartbreakingly tragic part of the story necessary to bring us to our lowest point, while the grief will linger with Sindri, I felt that Sindri being the one to 'kill' Odin was justified.

Initially, I wasn't sure I'd like the Draupnir Spear; as a ranged weapon I worried it wouldn't fit with the more hack n slash style, but I was greatly wrong in that department. The Spear is great, I use it a ton especially against the Drakes, Wights and Phantoms since it's good for stunning and longer range. The expansion of allowing Atreus to fight alone with his own unique skill tree is also a lot of fun, having his own variation of 'Spartan Rage' in shapeshifting, as is getting to have Freya as a companion to fight alongside too by being able to use her Valkyrie powers. Dialogue also remains fun and witty, expanding on elements of the speaking character, particularly Mimir and his past, but it was also surprising to see Kratos open up on his past a lot, not only to Atreus and Mimir but to Freya too (who engage in a lot of 'hate flirting' and just general flirting) even mentioning his wife and child and also Deimos - existing only in PSP side games.

While we spend A LOT of time in Vanaheim, all of the realms are good to explore, Jotunheim is particularly breathtaking and both Vanaheim and Svartalfheim has some fantastic scenery, Asgard itself is good to look at too, very Nordic in its aesthetic of longhouses and taverns, each realm feeling different for the other. And then the crescendo of Ragnarok did set up a big and dramatic ending.

The ending too is bittersweet, but it fully encapsulates the themes of God of War; choosing ones path in spite of prophecy, letting go and embracing the unknown - which Odin couldn't comprehend doing, and not responding to grief by sinking into old ways, it is a perfect end to the Norse saga while leaning but not fully copying aspects to how Ragnarok and other aspects of Norse myth - such as the origin of Loki's 'children' - went down (though I would not have minded Fenrir just popping up and swallowing Odin whole much like he does in Norse Ragnarok). And yet, then there is still a wealth of post-game still to achieve, which does benefit in extending the play time.

So yeah, everything else.

The Norse Saga ends, but what next? I know that Barlog has said that the Norse saga is over, and that they're eyeing Egyptian and Maya mythology, but part of me does feel like part of the Norse saga is still unfinished.

If it were me at least, I would look towards perhaps working on a multi-pronged assault. Odin is dead but that doesn't mean his religion is all gone; he was worshipped by Saxons and other Germanic faith too, which could invite British folklore to come to try and avenge Odin and perhaps even trigger the Wild Hunt - which Odin sometimes leads. We could also use Odin's oft-forgotten brothers Ville and Vé and refashion them into leaders of other pantheons in other lands, seeking to avenge their brother in the same way. While that is happening too we can have Sindri's descent, acting upon rage and the path of revenge since killing Odin didn't give him the satisfaction he had hoped, in that aspect Sindri could be Atreus' enemy but one Kratos can eventually talk down after he gets clarity over the damage he has caused - probably through association with another, for instance Vidyar, son of Odin and god of Vengeance, or by creating Tyrfing the cursed sword that kills whenever it was drawn to rival the Leviathan axe out of grief and anger, knowing that to get to Atreus he'd need to distract Kratos. Finally I feel like we should also consider bringing Athena back as a manipulator in the shadows, looking once more for a chance to drop the hammer on Kratos at his most vulnerable, she could also be associated with the mask, since they both bore an ethereal green light and she did find a way to avoid death in a higher plane of existence.

With that we could also get Atreus seeking other lands for more Jotnar who established themselves as other deities from other pantheons, while maybe also inheriting his mother's axe in the end while Kratos seeks to fulfill Faye's new vision for him by protecting the lands that home his allies and family, therefore bridging out to other pantheons that way without having to kill off or discard all of the Norse saga's groundwork.

Regardless, and I have cut a lot short just so it didn't get too long such as gushing about Fay, all the doggos, the Tortoise with a mini tree growing out of its back etc., Ragnarok leaves me fulfilled with my playing experience and yet equally eager and anticipating for more, so I hope to see what Santa Monica has for us next.

[quackquackcey]

Ch. 3: Hedgehogs, Honey, & Hazelnut-Covered Strawberries

Written for @hdcandyheartsfest day 3 prompt: handmade. Many thanks to my beta @wqtson​! 💛  

Start from beginning on AO3 here, or click the #fic: HHHS tag.

Summary:

A chance meeting—or is it a setup?—leads to the start of a relationship filled with buttery baked goods, sweet smelling flowers, and hedgehogs.~ 🌹🦔

“I am not filling in for one of your hedgehogs again!” Draco pointed his whisk at Luna. “You set me up last time!”

Luna gave a little shrug like it didn’t matter. “I’m simply telling you that Harry’s coming to visit solely for you. If you don’t want to fill in again, shall I tell Harry that Ormr’s had an unfortunate accident?”

“You— What?!” Draco spluttered. “You can’t just tell him that I bloody croaked! Just say…just say Ormr’s feeling under the weather or something.”

“But if Ormr won’t be making an appearance again, then I should just say he’s gone,” Luna told him as she walked out of Draco’s patisserie-bakery kitchen. “It’s not good to lead people on.” She paused for a moment, blue eyes piercing through Draco. “And, you know, Harry’s glamour—he’s set it so only people he trusts to some extent can see through it.”

And then she left.

Draco just stood there for a moment, dumbfounded, until he concluded Luna was just screwing with him, which then made him want to scream in frustration, but instead he muttered so many curses under his breath that Greg, in charge of the bread products, peered over from where he was baking the bread and suggested he take a break.

So Draco did.

And ended up spending the rest of the day across the street nibbling on fruits and being petted by Potter. 

He was in too deep, despite it being only the second time Potter had visited him, and the proof of that lay in the little gift Potter had brought him today—a tiny, knitted hedgehog sweater.

Hand-knitted.

By Potter.

Because apparently Potter knew to knit.

Draco would’ve thought this sort of thing wasn’t allowed in a hedgehog café, but Luna, that git—“Normally I don’t allow gifts for the hedgehogs, but seeing as you’re Ormr’s only visitor and I know you don’t have ill intentions, I’ll let it slide,” she said.

And to make matters worse, when Harry asked her what ‘Ormr’ meant, the conversation topic somehow fell on him.

“Hm, so it means ‘dragon’ in Old Norse?” mused Harry. “Like Draco. I bet he and Ormr would get along.”

“His patisserie-bakery’s right across the street,” said Luna. “Have you been? His baked goods and pastries are simply delicious.”

Harry paused his petting, and Draco looked up at him to see, to his surprise, a conflicted, somewhat disappointed expression. 

“I’ve heard. I want to visit, but….” Harry sighed and stirred his coffee. “Well, we didn’t part on great terms after the trial.”

Luna pulled up a chair, as if they weren’t discussing him right in front of him. “What happened? That was years ago, Harry. Surely the grudge between you two wouldn’t last that long.”

“It’s not that— It’s just, I asked him if he needed any help, erm, financial-wise or job-wise, because, well, you know—”

“Oh, Harry,” said Luna in an amused, knowing tone. “Did you tell him why you were offering help?”

“I thought it was obvious,” muttered Harry. “But he said ‘thank you for defending me, but I’m not a charity project,’ and that I didn’t need to keep an eye on him in case he turns Death Eater again because ‘the Ministry’s already doing that, thank you very much,’ and he looked hurt, and that was the end of that.”

Luna looked at Potter in that oddly penetrating gaze that Draco knew well, like she was staring into their soul. “Why did you ask him that?” she asked. “You two were never on good terms in your school years, and I’ve never heard you offer help to anyone else after the war, not like that.”

Draco startled—from the way everyone talked about Potter and all the charities Potter donated to, he’d thought Potter would be helping people left and right.

“…It just seemed like the odds were stacked against him,” said Potter after a moment. “So I thought I could help even those odds. He…” Potter hesitated. “You know what he went through in that manor.”

“You saw, didn’t you?” asked Luna. It was more a statement than a question. “Through your link with Voldemort.”

It was the first Draco had heard of Potter being linked with Voldemort, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much the wizarding world was kept in the dark regarding what exactly Potter had gone through during the war.

For one, the fact that Potter had sacrificed himself to save everyone, and died. Actually died.

And he sounded like he knew what Draco had done in that manor…. But that was impossible. He’d never told anyone, and even Luna only knew because she’d been on the receiving end once—

“I saw Voldemort Crucio-ing him,” Potter said softly. “Forcing him to Crucio others.”

Draco’s breath choked in his throat.

“It’s not something like pity, or charity,” continued Potter. “I just…. He wasn’t a Death Eater, Luna. He was a prisoner. And I guess I felt like he understood what it was like to have Voldemort in your head, and, I don’t know, I thought maybe we could go for drinks and be friends or something….” He trailed off and huffed out a wry laugh. “It sounds dumb saying it out loud. But I feel like if I walked into his shop, he might misunderstand and think I’m there to check in on him, so I get Dean and Seamus to buy me stuff when they go sometimes.” He grinned, eyes sparkling. “I like his tiramisu the most. Oh, and those dome-shaped white chocolate and caramel tarts with piping on the edge. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

And then Luna replied with her favourites, and it just devolved into a conversation about all of Draco’s desserts that they liked, and Draco just sat there in a daze, overwhelmed by the surreal scene playing in front of him. 

[fcb4]

Israel, Palestine and the Two Ravens of Odin

“Then the carcasses of this people will become food for the birds and the wild animals, and there will be no one to frighten them away. I will bring an end to the sounds of joy and gladness and to the voices of bride and bridegroom in the towns…” -‭‭Jeremiah‬ ‭7‬:‭33‬-‭34‬ ‭

The two Ravens of the Norse God Odin are called: Hugin and Munin. The translation of these bird’s names both involve the ideas of: “thought,” “desire,” and “emotion.”

Ravens are often associated with being eaters of the dead. The unclean birds that devour the slain of battle.

A raven eating a corpse is a gruesome image. To stand and watch someone’s loved one being dismantled and consumed by black beasts is a horrific terror for the mind and heart. Yellow eyes, shrill squawking in the fields sown with hell and horror is a picture that reaches into the depths of one’s soul and unsettles and unmakes us. Our fragile worlds, without and within, are disrupted, darkened and devastated.

It is a cold and brutal reminder that war eats out mind, heart and…hope.

Death 💀 is the end of desire.

In war, all that we have hoped for in our earthly lives is savagely struck down. Dreams and visions, plans and promises ripped out of our chests and stream over the burnt earth with blood and gore.

The Raven eats the victors and the defeated alike. The flesh of soldiers and the flesh of the innocents caught between invaders and defenders.

All are food for the birds of the air and only the wise know that vengeance is not a crown of victory.

Lately I’ve been sitting with Hugin and Munin at the confessional of my soul listening to all they have seen.

Tales of Terror in:

Burma

Ukraine

Africa

and now Israel and Palestine.

I’ll never escape the image of someone’s daughter being shoved into an suv with bloodied pants from being violently raped by Hamas terrorists.

I know that more horrors are to come. Victims and victors all bloodied by the cycles of justice and injustice battering cities to ruin and rubble.

Truly the sounds of joy and gladness are silenced.

Years ago in the aftermath of an endless list of people and places ravaged by violence, I wrote a poem after trying to help my kids process the world they were becoming aware of in their young lives.

It’s a poem that will never truly be fully written because the list of events won't end until the Prince of Peace returns.

Yet again I share it here as a witness to the long defeat we all must walk until our judgments come to account.

Odin’s Eye

Last night,

after talking to you,

yet again, I wept.

Massacres, mayhem and madness,

like crows gathered above my heart.

Their twitching, golden eyes,

saw my fears openly,

pecked at my scars,

dug into my wounds,

exposing memories.

A Van Gogh slain in the streets of Amsterdam,

high school halls filled with the dead,

lady Liberty’s towers falling in fire and ash,

theaters of gunfire echoing from Colorado.

Elementary playgrounds of unimaginable horror,

nightclub music silenced in blood and tears.

Norwegian summer camp butchering,

Paris brought to her knees,

Iraq in rubble, her teashops blown open by the breath of Apollyon.

Fort Hood.

Boston,

San Francisco,

beheadings, shootings, burnings and drownings,

blood trails behind the horses of the apocalypse.

I am father,

protector, provider, way maker,

and yet,

how many demons can I swallow for you?

Two generations born,

and still the fires of gehenna

burn.

At the well of wisdom, I sit,

Odin’s eye staring back at me in the depths,

what sacrifice can I give to see a new future born?

What I have witnessed, darkens my vision.

I gouge out my eye to quench your fires,

while birds of prey feast on our sorrows,

again,

and again,

and

again.

[itznarcotic]

Syncretism rambling under the cut

I seriously hope Type Moon doesn't use Barbara Walker's The Women's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets as a "factual and historical" source anymore than they already have. It was bad enough with the Norse-Celtic syncretism (of which was semi-popularized with Scathach-Skadi in SMT and used as basis for the entire Celtic pantheon in FGO) but some of the shit in this book is insane from a historical standpoint that you'd have to be a mental gymnastics olympic champion to get through those hoops of supposed logic.

Also, for the record, this isn't me bashing her because it's a feminist view on history and mythology. Honestly, that's an interesting fresh breath of air! But unfortunately, the contents of said book are incredibly bad regarding how much shit is made up/unfounded with what we actually have information on.

Some examples that I wish weren't actually in this book:

The excerpt on Aesir

"Asians," the Norse gods led by Father Odin, who invaded the lands of the elder deities (Vanir). The Aesir came from Asaland, or Asaheimr, meaning both "land of gods" and "Asia." Some claimed their home city was Troy. Such myths record the recurrent western migrations of Indo-European or Aryan peoples. The Norse word for a god was Ass, "Asian." The Egyptian god Osiris was formerly Ausar, "the Asian." Etruscans also called their ancestral deities Asians. Phoenician king Cadmus was "the Oriental," from kedem, "the Orient." The Asian invaders were aggressive. The Voluspa said war occurred "for the first time in the world" when the Aesir attacked the peace-loving people of the Goddess.

The excerpt on Aryans

General name for Indo-European peoples, from Sanskrit arya, a man of clay (like Adam), or else a man of the land, a farmer or landowner. The ancestral god of "Aryans" was Aryaman, one of the twelve zodiacal sons of the Hindu Great Goddess Aditi. In Persia he became known as Ahriman, the dark earth god, opponent or subterranean alter ego of the solar deity Ormazd (Ahura Mazda). In Celtic Ireland he was Eremon, one of the sacred kings who married the Earth (Tara).

Though there was nothing "pure" about either the name or the far-flung mixture of tribes it was supposed to describe, the term "pure Aryan" was revived in Nazi Germany to support a mythological concept of Teutonic stock, the so-called Master Race. Non-Aryans were all the "inferior" strains: Semites, N██████, gypsies, Slavs, and Latinate or "swarthy" people whose blood was said to be polluting the Nordic superiority of their betters.

The excerpt on Aladdin

Marco Polo described Aladdin quite differently from his mythic portrait in the Arabian Nights. As the fairy tale said, he was master of a secret cave of treasures, but the cave was real. It was located in the fortified valley of Alamut near Kazvin, headquarters of the fanatical brotherhood of hashishim or "hashish-takers," which Christians mispronounced "assassins."

Aladdin was an Old Man of the Mountain, hereditary title of the chief of hashishim, beginning with a Shi'ite leader Hasan ibn al-Sabbah, whose name meant Son of the Goddess (see Arabia). The later name of Aladdin was taken by several chieftains. In 1297 the region of Gujarat was conquered by a warrior called the Bloody One, Ala-ud-den. By means of drugs and an elaborate "paradise" staffed by human Houris, initiates into the brotherhood were persuaded that they died and went to heaven, or Fairyland, where gardens and palaces occupied the valley of the secret cave. Special conduits flowed with the Four Rivers of Paradise: water, wine, milk, and honey. Each candidate was drugged into a stupor, then woke and "perceived himself surrounded by lovely damsels, singing, playing, and attracting his regards by the most fascinating caresses, serving him also with delicate foods and exquisite wines; until intoxicated with excess of enjoyment amidst actual rivulets of milk and wine, he believed himself assuredly in Paradise, and felt an unwillingness to relinquish its delights."

After this period of bliss, the warrior was again drugged and taken out of the secret place, to fight in the service of the Old Man of the Mountain. He fought fearlessly, in the belief that death in battle would instantly carry him back to that heaven cleverly made real for him. Promises of sexual bliss were the real key to the ferocity of Islamic armies. The Koran said each hero who died in battle would achieve an eternity of pleasure among heavenly Houris with "big, beautiful, lustrous eyes."

Aladdin's sect worshipped the moon as a symbol of the Goddess, like the Vessel of Light associated with both the virgin Mary and the Holy Grail in western Europe. Eastern poets said the Vessel of Light produced djinn, "spirits of ancestors." This Vessel was simultaneously Aladdin's lamp, source of djinni (a genie), and the moon, source of all souls according to the most ancient beliefs. The moon was the realm of the dead, and also the realm of rebirth since all souls were recycled through many revolutions of the wheels of Fate. The divine Houris also dwelt in the moon, which probably was the light of Aladdin's secret cave. See Moon.

The Arabian Nights gave the password to Aladdin's cave: Open, Sesame. This was related to Egyptian seshemu, "sexual intercourse." The hieroglyphic sign of seshemu was a penis inserted into an arched yoni-symbol. Every ancient culture used some form of sexual symbolism for the idea of man-entering-paradise.

An excerpt on Cu Chulainn

The infamous excerpt on Skadi