#hel's steed

[briefbestiary]

If it happens to like oats, perhaps you could bribe it from your sickbed...

[liminalpebble]

Never Enough (A Loki Comfort Fic)

Summary: It's not a easy life in Asgard's palace as Frigga's witchling apprentice and a victim of relentless teasing thanks to Thor and his warrior posse. You feel like a failure and a misfit, until the patron god of failures and misfits decides to comfort you.

A/N: Angst, comfort, fluff fic (ultimately feel good). Wholesome. Pre-Thor 1 Loki. Loki x reader. Just a little something I wrote to cheer myself up after a week of feeling like I'm getting it all wrong and being stupid. I hope it makes you feel better too if you're going through the same thing.

----

You slammed through the double doors and took long angry strides down the hallway, anxious to get to the privacy of your quarters before tears released themselves from your eyes. None of them...NONE of them...had ever seen you cry, or scream or loose your temper, and you'd be damned if they saw it now.

You considered it some kind of dysfunctional personal record at this point. You saw inscrutability as a strength. If you had to feel alone, you figured, you could at least lean into it and make yourself strong enough to not need the people who would reject you anyway.

All they saw was the serious apprentice in the black velvet gown who stuck to the shadows in every way. Thor, however, saw this seriousness as an opportunity for jest between himself and his warrior friends on many occasions. One day, when the entire court dined together, he turned from his pile of food and gallon of ale to smile at you. Your heart and stomach dropped, knowing he was somehow about to make an ass of you despite your best efforts.

He bellowed your name. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath, gathering your patience for the great oaf.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Tell me, who do you favor in the races?”

“I know not of them, Prince, so I have no preference.”

“Yes, but for the hel of it. Pick one,” he goaded.

“I suppose Volstagg's steed, as it has the better record?”

The entire room erupted in raucous laughter. All except for one person. The younger prince of Asgard sat quietly with a dangerous look on his pale face.

Fandral shouted drunkenly, “My lady, Volstagg's steed couldn't jump over a single brick, much less a full set of hurdles. Are you entirely sure you're Asgardian, knowing so little about these things?”

Another ripple of laughter erupted around the room. This, you thought, was the final straw. You couldn't stop making small stupid errors lately in your magical training with Frigga. Although she was patient and kind, you could see the disapproval in your beloved mentor's eyes and that was worse than a tirade. And now this.

You took a breath, gathered yourself behind the inscrutable mask you were so accustomed to now, and politely excused yourself for the evening with some remark about the late hour.

-----

Now you raced against your feelings as you stepped quickly down the marble hall, nearly to the safety of your quarters, to privacy. I'm going to make it. You told yourself.

As you reached towards the door of your quarters, a blinding green light interrupted you and Loki's form materialized in your path.

You flinched a little, surprised that the younger prince stood before you with his hands calmly held behind his back.

Alright, just a little longer. Keep it together just a little longer. You ordered yourself.

“Your...Your Highness. What can I do for you?”

He took a measured breath and stepped closer, icy eyes looking down to meet yours, “Dear lady, I was actually wondering what I could do for you.”

You swallowed hard. You had always found the sly brilliant prince intimidating. You studied magic alongside him under Frigga's tutelage. He was spectacular, running circles around you every single lesson. In all these years, he never so much as said an entire sentence to you until now. He seemed barely aware of your presence, in fact, focused instead on larger schemes, ambition and glorious purpose.

You chuckled at the thought. Glorious purpose...meanwhile I have no purpose at all.

“What's so funny?” the prince asked, brows knitted in confusion.

To your horror, you found you had only begun to laugh harder and suddenly you couldn't stop, “Sorry...my liege...I just. Sometimes the arbitrary cruelty of my stupid life strikes me as, well, very tragic...and very funny.”

To your surprise, Loki smiled...not a small polite grin that you'd seen him give many times, but a full wide mischievous Cheshire cat smile, broadcasting an almost manic delight. It frightened you a bit, but gods, he looked even more shockingly handsome than before. You didn't think that was possible.

You flinched a little as he walked closer and his hand came to your face. His fingers felt cool against your hot skin as you realized he was wiping tears away; tears you didn't even realize you had begun to cry.

He nodded toward your door and placed a graceful hand on the small of your back, guiding you. With an understanding kindness in his eyes he whispered. “Come on, let's sit and talk.”

-----

As you sat facing each other on your couch, he conjured two warm cups of tea and a blanket around you. Surprised, you gripped both closer to you and the warm comfort began to seep through the cracks of your icy loneliness.

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile.

He inclined his head of beautiful black hair in a graceful nod. “My pleasure.”

“Forgive me for asking, Your Highness...”

“Loki...just Loki...please.”

“Loki,” you said slowly, cautiously. “Why...why are you doing this? Why are you being so kind.”

He sipped for a moment, taking time to gather his thoughts (a habit his brother apparently didn't share). “I know what it's like. I've been where you are. I've felt what you feel.”

His large lovely eyes never left you, bright and blue and full of sincerity. Not what you were expecting from the god of lies. “Forgive me, Si....Loki...but no, you don't. And no, you haven't.” You took a deep breath and looked to your hands, his intense gaze becoming too much. “You're perfect...at magic...at everything...a prince of the realm. Your place is solid and secure and important. You have a glorious purpose. I...I am simply not enough...not good enough...not smart enough...not enough like them.”

You began to sniff and squint and look away, horrified that the hot tears dared to fall in front of him, of all people. His long hand found yours and encompassed it. He scooted closer and said, “Darling, I assure you, I'm not perfect. I've also been the butt of Thor's stupid jokes and mockery for years on end, the mere spare prince to my kingdom. No one listens to me. I'm not like them. I never was, and I'm not sure why. Much like you, I say very little because I'm trying to be strong, trying to not give them any more fodder to ridicule me. I live in the shadows, just as you do.”

You met his piercing eyes this time, with your soft ones. Loki thought they looked so kind, that you looked so beautiful in this moment and he scolded himself for not reaching out to you sooner. He had always had so much affection for your, but he never dared come closer. You had built walls around yourself just as high and thick as his own, after all. Of course, It didn't fool him, and he always wanted to know what was behind them. “That's a shame,” you said, squeezing his hand. “How can they not see how incredible you are. How dare they treat such a beautiful person so badly?” You said in awe.

He peaked his eyebrows and smiled sweetly, his own eyes welling at your praise. Loki had always seemed dangerous and alluring to you, all angles and metal and leather and deep silky voice. You had never seen him so solicitous and vulnerable. You said carefully, “I...I realize, that this is a gift, you've given me. I don't take it for granted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing you more...intimately. I'm grateful. It's good to not be alone for once.”

“You matter, darling. You are so much more than 'enough'. You are exquisite.” he said, kissing your forehead. “Now,” he said, conjuring a dagger with a dangerous glint in his eye, “Let have a bit of fun with Thor and his friends, shall we?”

@evelyn-rathmore @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @unlucky-number-13 @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @peaches1958 @sweetsigyn @ladyofthestayingpower @loz-3 @alexakeyloveloki @coldnique @acidcasualties @marcotheflychair @gigglingtiggerv2 @smolvenger @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @lokihiddleston @peachyjinx @thedistractedagglomeration @thenerdyoldersister @sarahscribbles @sailorholly @littlespaceyelf @eleniblue @mochie85 @infinitystoner @tripleyeeet @goblingirlsarah @mischief2sarawr @mischiefmaker615 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @holdmytesseract @viv-annelore

[alneedssleep]

Loki Children Headcannons

Disclaimer: probably obvious from the fact I am talking about his children, but this is myth Loki, not Marvel’s bastardisation. 

Sleipnir 

Sleipnir is the eldest and is non-binary (he/they). 

They are capable of taking on a human form and, when they do, they act like a diva who drinks way too much and complains about Odin using him as a steed. 

If they existed in the modern day, they would absolutely dress like a young woman in the 30s – shawl and all. 

Out of all the siblings, he is somehow the one with the highest alcohol tolerance. 

Loki struggled at first to bond with Sleipnir because they were born out of r*pe (depending on how you interpret the only source we actually have on his conception, it could be seen as consensual or not. I personally think it was supposed to be non-consensual but, because the author was Christian, was vague about it). 

Hel 

Her dead side is only mildly blue and bruised looking like a fresh corpse when she is happy. It becomes more grotesque the angrier she gets. She becomes a full-on skeleton on that side when she is furious.  

Hel is a lesbian and occasionally dates some of the women who die and come to Helheim but doesn’t have a consistent partner. 

She is the youngest of all her siblings but ends up acting like the eldest because the only place they can reunite is in Helheim after Ragnarök where she is queen. 

Loki, Sigyn and Angrboda still baby her though. She will never admit to secretly liking it. At least, not in front of her siblings. 

Narfi 

He is trans. I don’t know why, it's just vibes. 

He is the elder of him and Vali.

He is studious and generally much softer and nicer compared to Vali. 

He is a user of seidr (Norse magic) which he learnt from Loki and even Sigyn a bit. This made him a target of teasing as a child since seidr is a girl's thing. 

He has his mother’s dark hair and darker skin with Loki’s green eyes. 

Vali 

He is gay but started off with a lot of internalised homophobia because he was teased for being the child of Loki, a notorious genderfluid in a culture that saw feminine men as a bad thing, and became unwilling to accept what could make him seem like a girl. 

He is a warrior and is prone to rash decisions, making him a lot like Loki. 

Vali and Loki have a bit of a difficult relationship since Vali is a mama’s boy but he is so similar to Loki in many ways (which a large part of him hates but the rest of him can’t help but love). 

He is very muscular with Loki’s red hair and Sigyn’s black eyes. He has a long beard with he braids and decorates with Narfi’s help. 

Jörmungandr 

His first word was “Ssssssnack!” 

He used to either curl up in front of the fire, against Fenrir or in Hel or Loki’s laps. Those memories are the only thing staving off his pain from being a land serpent in the cold depths of the ocean. 

He and Fenrir used to get into play fights all the time as a pup and hatchling and someone would always end up having to break them up before they broke something. 

He can speak in human tongue, but not nearly as well as Fenrir. He is also the only non-human child of Loki who can’t take a human form. 

Fenrir 

He is a cuddly teddy bear and used to sleep curled up in bed with one of his siblings or Loki, Angrboda or Sigyn. 

He was the gentlest of his siblings before being chained up. Even after that, he remained shockingly kind but became very protective over his family as a result. 

He has black fur with an almost purplish tinge and bright yellow eyes. 

He is able to change his size, going from normal wolf to “able to eat the sun and moon” big. 

He has a human form with long, thick black hair, sideburns and the same eerie yellow eyes. 

[notthesomefather]

Loki's Journey to Hel

[[A story I wrote for a Halloween ritual.]]

It was a hallowed evening and all gods and men had partaken in revelries.  It had been a day of celebrating life and vibrance in Asgard and Midgard alike, yet an ill-humor had befallen the quick-footed Trickster, Loki. 

“It is a sorrowful man, he who welcomes Death,” one God had remarked during the festivities. “Not I to welcome that cold, hungry abyss.”

This aroused the Sly One’s temper.  “My daughter’s halls are as fair as these you call home,” Loki declared.  “If I bring you three gifts from Helheim, you must admit I am correct.”

“Ah, and what use have we for gifts such as this?” they replied.  “What need have we of rot and bone, when the shimmer of vitality here beams so brightly?”

“No morbid gifts will I bring,” Loki promised.  “But they will be such gifts as you have never seen before, not even among all your splendor.”

And so the bet was on.  

Once the lights had been extinguished and the sounds of mirth subsided into gentle snores, Loki began his work.  Loki approached the stables of Odin, wherein slept their child, the Eight-Hoofed Sleipnir.  

“Only you may carry me swiftly between this realm and Helheim,” Loki whispered, “I pray you be swift.  We must return before first light.”

And so they began their journey towards Helheim.  The wind blew more timidly, the stars shown more sparsely, and Loki’s very breath and heartbeat seemed to quiet until only Nothing remained.  On they went through the black stillness until a voice called out.

“Who is he that would enter our hall?” 

“One who would carry on your memory to the gods themselves,” Loki replied.

Before Loki’s eyes a geist appeared, fair of face and steady of speech.  “My memory has long since been lost,” he said forlornly.  “I would appreciate my name being welcomed into the ears of the gods.  What ask you in return?”

“Why, a handshake to seal the agreement,” Loki said.  “Nothing more.”

“It is done.”  The geist told Loki his name, shook the Silver-Tongued one’s hand, and vanished in peace.

Loki and Sleipnir continued on their trek to Helheim.  The blackness had begun to subside into a mist, and the air felt warmer.  On they went through the grey stillness until a voice called out.

“Who is he that would enter our hall?” 

“One who would carry on your memory to the gods themselves,” Loki replied.  Before Loki’s eyes a geist appeared, dark of face and gentle of speech.  

“I have no family left to utter my name,” the geist murmured.  “It would be heartening indeed to hear it from the tongues of gods.  What ask you in return?”

“Why, a dance to seal the agreement,” Loki said.  “Nothing more.”

“It is done.”  The geist took Loki’s hand and they danced upon the air and ground until a sigh of contentment filled the void, and the geist vanished in peace.

And so the Mischief-Maker and his steed rode on until the mist subsided and the air awoke with smells of jasmine, apple blossoms, and grass.  Loki approached a mighty gate until a voice cried out.

“Who is he that would enter my hall?” 

“One who would carry on your glory to the gods themselves,” Loki replied.

There was silence until the Lady of Terrible Beauty herself appeared at the gate.  She stood before her realm yet would not permit her father to come any closer.

“The gods have oft compared my hall to a punishment,” Hel said.  “It would make my heart glad to have them know the truth.  That I welcome all into my hall who have been allowed the gift of rest and calm.  Famine and hunger!  What famine are you to find in my orchards?  What hunger will you see when reunited families and friends toast one another at my tables?  We host those who have come before just as nobly and comfortably as my kin who rule Valhalla and Fólkvangr, this they must know.”

“They shall know it,” Loki promised.

“What ask you in return, Father?”

“Why, a happy sigh to seal the agreement,” Loki said.  “Nothing more.”

And it was so that his daughter smiled and sighed and the two parted ways once more.  Loki and Sleipnir rode back before dawn and found some of the gods still stirring.

“Well?” asked one.  “Have you made it to Helheim?  Have you seen the dullness of Death?”

“On the contrary,” the Silver-Tongued replied.  “It is as I said: the grandeur of Helheim matches that of these halls in Asgard.  Beauty and peace and joy can be found there as much as anywhere else in the nine realms.”

“We don’t admit it so!” cried the gods.

“Then may I remind you of our bargain, dear family,” Loki said.  “Our agreement was that I shall present you with three gifts, the likes of which you’ve never seen, and you shall concede I am right.”

“Let’s have these gifts then,” the gods demanded.

“My first gift is the handshake of a dead man,” Loki said, extending a hand into the air before him.  “My second gift is the footfall of a dead man,” Loki said, extending a foot into the air before him.  “And my third gift is the breath of the dead,” Loki said, blowing into the air before him.  “These three gifts I have brought you, and so you must agree.”

“Tricks and lies!” the gods bellowed.  “You have brought us nothing!”

“I have brought you three things you have never seen.  The fact you don’t see them now either is no matter to our agreement.”

The gods begrudgingly admitted that Loki had won the bet.  Loki spoke the names and tales of the geists he met on his travels, and relayed his daughter’s pleas for understanding.  And so it was that the forgotten were remembered and the reputation of Helheim was seen with more fairness by gods and men alike.

[silverskye13]

In relation to hels or wels being a patron of Apollo, which do you think hels would be a patron of then? I want to say ares personally because hels sees some sort of glory in fighting in the arena but also a friendship(?) with those he fights there

At first I was going to disagree and say he would favor someone like Athena, but this made me do research into the differences between Athena and Ares, and while admittedly what I found was done over the course of an hour on google and not subject to peer review, it seems like a lot of the more bumbling traits given to Ares were given to him by Athenians, and Athena's prevalence over him is more tied to the fact that Athenians wrote the histories and poems, instead of the Thracians and Spartans -- the folks who revered Ares.

So I have to agree, Helsknight would probably be a follower of Ares. I mean, read this and tell me if it sounds like RnS Helsknight at all, the things he values and reveres:

"Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden-helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities, harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of death."

Homeric Hymn 8, to Ares

[skittlesandham]

repost from insta (kinda)

"Just a sketch from a while back, Hel and her steed Helhest."

and also koi lady

[cleabellanov]

Loki season 1 moments that live in my head rent free ✨

"This is FINE asgardian leather!!!" (e1)

I imagine that Loki, a fashion queen, really cares about their looks, and wouldn't let their outfits, conjured or not, carelessy touched like that. But they did conjure that outfit, right? So they must've really worked hard on it; Asgardian leather sounds precious, after all.

The whole "I don't enjoy hurting people" conversation. The "Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear." quote

Mobius giving (or trying to give) Loki back his daggers. Love is a dagger

Loki looking up in the sky for the storm in episode 2: The Variant , most probably being reminded of his brother Thor

Loki fixing Mobius' tie. It's such an iconic moment I know none of us need an actual illustration for it; it's engraved in our visual memory.

These precious precious moment when Loki feels safe enough to fall asleep in Mobius's presence

The well known "Jeg Saler Min ganger" (I saddle my steed) Norwegian song

"Is this...Hel?" after ending up in the void. Because they must've thought, again, that their end must be Hel, undeserving of a "greater" one like Valhalla

THE HUG?!?!!

Just Mobius pulling that pizza car to Sylvie. Fearless.

"I'd NEVER stab anyone in the back! That's such a boring for of betrayal!"

I literally quote this out loud a few times a week, it's part of my personality.

"No one bad is ever truly bad, and no one good is ever truly good" also quote this almost daily, but in my head.

Casually stopping a building from falling using telekinesis!? We deserved to see more of his powers, like THAT'S just how powerful he is. Not just daggers (altough those are cool as well but...yk, not as efficient)

"You can be whatever, whoever you wanna be. Even someone good. I mean just in case anyone ever told you different"

need I comment? We get to see a character that pretends to be bad at their core being told he can just go and be the opposite - which is true!! they just needed the right support for that.

The introduction of Mobius. The first time we ever saw him was in sunlight; just like the last time...

The introduction of Sylvie. Setting things on fire, just the perfect visual for her character and actions for the rest of the season.

Loki trying to hit Miss Minutes with a magazine. The magazine being Mobius's jet ski one 🧡

"You're just a little pussycat" and "If looks could kill" from the first episode. My man was genuienly flirting ✨

" A bit of both" the only bisexual queen moment we actually got. The lighting here is interesting as well...a bit of pink, purple and blue. 😉

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/759618851366387712/httpswwwtumblrcomwritingsofwesteros759526207?source=share

Cannibal landed outside of the gates of King's Landing, letting out a shrill roar as he felt his rider's pain- Nora clung to the saddle and trusted her precious mount to take her where she needed to go. It had been hours of being kicked and beaten by Daemon, and the guards of Dragonstone- she was surprised that Jacaerys had not even gone to see her, but apparently she heard through whispers that Rhaenyra forbade him, a notion Baela apparently supported. By the time Cannibal landed she was purely exhausted, the physical toll along with the emotional one of Alicent's betrayal making her ache in all ways. It felt like hours had passed, until she head horses incoming closer, and Cannibal roared protectively. "Dohaeras, Cannibal!" Aemond called. "Nora!" Aegon shouted helplessly. "Sister!" Nora weakly whispered words of High Valyrian to Cannibal- without her, Cannibal would hurt others without hesitation, before she attempted to slide off her saddle. She landed in Aemond's strong arms, who breathed, "Thank the gods-" "Nora," Aegon practically flung himself onto them, tears freely falling down his cheeks when he saw her, and the state she was on- Oh, how he would see to it that those who laid hands on her paid dearly. She was too weak to speak, and Aemond told Aegon, "Come now, brother- we must get her back to the Keep...she needs to be seen to at once, and Hel will be aching to see her." The brothers rode their steeds through the city, back to the Red Keep. Hours later, Nora was in a large bathtub, with Helaena scrubbing her skin clean. The water was murky and reddish brown with her blood, and dirt, and Helaena said softly, "I will have the maids empty this water, and bring fresh water." Nora nodded wordlessly and stepped out, wrapped in a robe. Helaena sat beside her, and held her hand. She had not yet told anyone of their mother's betrayal, for fear that Aegon and Aemond would act recklessly. "We were so afraid," Helaena whispered. "Deathly afraid- we could not bear losing you. Mother prayed for you for hours on end." "Did she?" "She'd began to wear black and green, like Cannibal," Helaena confided. "She said that she wished to find ways to keep us with her always, and so she even wore gold for Sunfyre." Nora felt tears in her eyes- how could she tell them what their mother had done, when they all finally felt like they had Alicent's unwavering love, after all this time? Helaena kissed her cheek and whispered, "She even asked that I find her a shade of blue exactly like Dreamfyre." Images of standing in Dragonstone, watching her mother betray her flashed through her mind. "What?" She turned to Helaena, who nodded. "Tis' true." Helaena smiled sadly. Her heart clenched, as she put together the pieces. As she was dragged out of Dragonstone and she looked back at her mother, in her gown of pale blue, the candlelight caused the material to glimmer ever so slightly....it revealed a pattern...a pattern of dragonscales. "She didn't....she didn't betray us," Nora gasped softly. "No," Helaena whispered knowingly. "She did not. The dress was not her returning to Rhaenyra....it was keeping a piece of her children as she gave herself for Nora's freedom....because she knew that without Cannibal, they stood a greater chance against Rhaenyra and the dragonseeds.

POOR SWEET NORA! She's going through it thats for sure !!!

Also..the idea of Alicent having her children's dragon colours so close when she's so deathly afraid of them..

Aegon and Aemond would not leave their sisters' side whilst Daeron began to patrol. Otto was so glad his granddaughter was home safe even if he was subtle about it

[helreginn]

Why does Hel feel that way about Odin?

Again, coming back to the TRIGGER WARNING AF moment.

Let's take a look at her immediate family tree shall we? Check in on the Lokifam?

Angrboða [Hel's mother]: We don't know what became of her, but it probably wasn't something great.

Loki [Hel's father]: His skin is being eaten away by serpent venom. Tied with his son's innards and forever waterboarded. Only spared the pain by his doting wife,

Sigyn [Hel's Step Mother]: Who by now has guns of steel, forever holding that bowl beneath the snake's open maw, only taking a break to pour it out before starting again. (It's her son's innards he's bound with)

Sleipnir [Hel's older half brother. An eight legged horse] is forced into a live of servitude, diminished to nothing more than a glorified steed for the very man that tore his family asunder.

Fenrisúlfr [Hel's older brother. A giant wolf] The man's son tricked him, offering his hand (literal, not marriage) as a show of trust that he would not be bound. Surprise surprise, he is in bounds so powerful the things that were used to make them no longer exist in the world with a sword in his mouth, he may never shut his jaw again.

Jǫrmungandr [Hel's older brother. A giant Serpent] He was cast into the ocean, growing so large he could encircle the world and was forced to swallow his own tail or else he would fall off it.

Váli [Hel's older half brother. He's just a boy.] He was forcedly turned into a wolf against his will. A wolf, that in anger and fear and confusion.. tore his twin brother apart.

Narfi [Hel's older half brother. Váli's twin] He was ripped to pieces by the very man he came into the worlds beside. And his entrails were used to bind their father for all of time.

And Hel? Well, the same time she was forced into the underworld to be it's ruler forever was about the same time ^ Narfi was in pieces. She was sent.. with the pieces...

Never to see her family again, she thinks.

So.. You know..

The usual "My uncle's a bit of a prick" reasoning.

[arleniansdoodles]

Hi! I need an opinion on something, i am making a Next Gen God of War story that goes like this- Is about Atreus and Angrboda´s daughter, Hel (She is called Laufey by her family) and she is in a path of discovering her role as the godess of death, in my story she is in a journey to restore her uncle Brok´s soul, so he can have an afterlife, in her journey she is accompanied by her best friend and loyal steed, Helhest, who is the three legged steed of Hel in myths.

(pt2) Along with them there´s Snotra, a godess of wisdow and daugther of Mimir and Sigrum( Don´t ask how, not even the other´s know how) she has the same age as Layfey( both are 12 years old in my story) and Sindri, who despite still grieving, wants to help give Brok an Afterlife, but the last one of her group i am having dificult is Víðarr, the god of vengeance, still the son of Odin and the same age as Laufey and Snotra, i will post he´s backstory in a minute. Sorry if this is anoying :(

(pt3) As i said he was the youngest, but he was also the strongest of the sons of Odin, campable of lifting boulders at four years old, and so the Alfather, just like he did with Thor, abused him, turn him to a weapon, but diferent from Thor, it backfired and so he imprisoned him, he was only six when Ragnarok happened. When Asgard was destroyed, Vidar was thrown in Muspelheim, in my story he serves the role of Kratos, and Hel tries to help him the same way Faye did, so what you think? To much?

Hi anon! Thanks for sharing the premise of your story with me, it sounds really fun! :D And it's not annoying at all, so don't worry!!

I don't think Vidarr's backstory is too much at all! If you're happy with it, I say go for it XDD I'm also not sure what in particular you're having difficulty with; is it his personality? Or how Hel will help him? Vidarr's experience with Odin will surely affect how he behaves around others. And if he was isolated in Musphelheim for years, then that will also have an impact on him. So you can definitely have his growth and healing happen throughout his journey with the others!

I hope this was helpful! And I wish you lots of fun with writing your story!! :DDD

[bugwolfsstuff]

maybe idunn got kidnapped again and loki needs to figure out who did it, maybe a different god is missing (like heimdall or hel), maybe some souls escaped from helheim like randolph or balder or even vali or narfi or all four of them idk), maybe jormungandr woke up, maybe sleipnir is missing and odin needs his steed back quickly

Ooooh I do like those ideas.

I don't think Loki would really care about gods being missing or souls escaping (except for maybe Narvi and Vali he'd either be against the idea of taking them back or realize that they are better off with Hel because he has a fuck ton of enemies and itd probably work the same as when Einherjar die outside Valhalla and theyd just dissapear into nothing if they died again)

I think ive narrowed it down to two choices Utgard Loki or Surt. (Sleipnir being missing is absolutely going to be a side quest tho. I am extremely interested in Sleipnir's and Loki's relationship)

[robynmizore]

Newest Redemption chapter:

Heated Mind

Mini warning about this chapter.. there’s a scene at the end that’s a bit more suggestive than the regular. Not too explicit but close to it. If you aren’t comfortable with that feel free to skip when you see the stars. Many requested I write a scene like that and originally I was against it because I don’t want their relationship to seem like just lust. But I think I’ve succeeded in portraying it as a perfect mix of love and lust. I’d love to hear your feedback on this, and if you’d like to see more scenes like that in future chapters.

When Robyn and Takumi arrived outside, the fields of Askr were locked in a fierce battle.

“Niles said the enemies just appeared out of no where.” she mused. “Takumi.. you don’t suppose Hel somehow came back to life, do you?”

“Unlikely.” Takumi’s sharp eyes scanned the battlefield. “Found your culprit. Gods, what is that?!”

As they flew closer to the battle atop Nightmare, Robyn could see what he was referring to. A woman with tied back turquoise hair was leading the charge, not by horseback. Instead she wore a metal steed like a suit of armor, and it certainly looked decades beyond Askr’s current technology. The fighting oddly paused when she caught sight of Robyn and Takumi hovering in the skies, so they landed to confront her. Now that the air was no longer plagued with the sounds of battle, Alfonse stepped forward, flanked by Sharena and Commander Anna.

“What is the meaning of this?! Why are you attacking our kingdom?!” he demanded.

“I am Reginn, sister of Fáfnir and princess of Niðavellir! My purpose here is twofold!” she announced. “I am to conquer this kingdom and secure the Summoner for my brother-“

“Fat chance!” Niles interrupted, and Takumi immediately placed himself in between Reginn and Robyn, his hazel eyes smoldering.

“Touch her and you’re dead!” the Hoshidan prince spat.

Robyn noticed Reginn hesitated a moment, then steeled herself.

“If you don’t agree to my demands, I will be forced to make you-“

“I’m sorry, did we stutter?” Niles sneered. “Tell big brother he’s gonna have to find another hot date to have a nice, steamy night with.”

“W-what?!”

The sentence came out as a squeak as Reginn blushed furiously, mouth hanging open. Niles smirked, taking that as an invitation to continue his antics in a sultry purr.

“The Summoner’s married to that love struck Hoshidan prince with the bow over there. Now if Fáfnir needs someone to let out.. certain frustrations out with, I’m available~”

“Th-that’s enough!” Reginn spluttered out, and Robyn could see Alfonse face-palming with a muffled groan as the princess rapidly tried to regain control of the situation by ordering her troops to attack, heading straight for Robyn.

With a furious roar, Takumi launched a vicious blast from his Fujin Yumi, the single arrow decimating the front row of Reginn’s soldiers. Robyn stopped in her tracks for a moment, stunned.

Amazing..! Takumi’s strong, but I didn’t know he could take out so many with a lone arrow!

“Oh-no.. she really touched a nerve..” she heard Niles snicker.

Caledori fell into flight beside her as she cleared the skies, heading for Reginn.

“We’d better hurry if we want to get some fighting practice in before Takumi takes out their whole army.” she chuckled.

At Robyn’s suggestion, Caledori shot forward to feign an attack on Reginn, who reared up on her mechanical horse. Honing in on the weak point at her stomach. Robyn flashed a powerful light spell that sent the girl staggering. Before she could regain her footing, she was pelted with Takumi’s arrows, and a wind spell from Ricken.

“N-no.. the Summoner.. I h-have to-“

“..I don’t know who you think you are, but you won’t be taking me anywhere. I decide my fate. Not you.” Robyn deadpanned.

“You tell ‘em!” Ricken chimed in, while Takumi glowered furiously beside her.

His prickliness may have mellowed out since meeting her, but she knew he wouldn’t tolerate anyone threatening his wife. Panic lit Reginn’s gaze when she realized she was outnumbered, and quickly struggled to her feet to make a hasty retreat. Still looking infuriated, Takumi went to follow, only to be stopped by Alfonse.

“..Let her go for now. I sense reluctance in her actions. Hopefully we can find her real motive next battle.”

The prince’s nostrils flared, but when Robyn gently put an arm around him, he relaxed instantly, leaning into her touch.

“..Sorry.” he murmured. “I just couldn’t stand her treating you like an object.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re willing to stand up for me like that.” Robyn whispered back.

Takumi pressed closer, fixing her with a steady gaze.

“You fought well today. And I don’t doubt your ability to defend yourself. But just know that no matter what happens, I’ll fight by your side. I’ll take on a whole army for you if I must.”

“Thank you..” Robyn whispered, giving his hand a quick squeeze, and Takumi squeezed back.

The fireplace in the library crackled gently, bringing back memories of the comforting nights Robyn spent consoling Takumi after the troubled Hoshidan prince had been plagued by nightmares. Her hand rested on her husband’s shoulder, a book on Seiðjarn in their laps as they read together.

“..It’s fascinating.” Takumi murmured, turning a page. “This stuff isn’t even remotely close to being developed in Hoshido. None of us would have even dreamt of these kind of contraptions.”

He paused, a wistful, almost bittersweet look dawning in his eyes.

“As homesick as I am.. I’m really glad I came to this world.”

“Same.” Robyn replied. “This world.. and this adventure with you? It’s beautiful.. all of it.”

Robyn leaned her head on his shoulder, her sweet scent wreathing around him, and Takumi let out a contented sigh. His eyes fell on the pages again. To a particular page that made his hazel eyes widen in curiosity as his lips moved silently.

Microphone?

Carefully concealing his excitement, Takumi casually turned the page and smiled to himself. He suddenly had a very good idea for the next gift he wanted to get for his wife. The glow from the fire and candles created an enchantingly romantic atmosphere as Takumi and Robyn carefully carefully unrolled a parchment scroll on the ground, quills in hand. Robyn was decent at drawing, but told him he was the better of the pair, much to his blushing flattery.

“So one by one kingdoms have fallen due to Seiðjarn. Something this kingdom specializes in.” Takumi mused. “I think our best strategy is to try and beat them at their own game.. which is easier said then done.”

Robyn nodded slowly, her eyebrows furrowing.

“No one in Askr has the ability to counter them with Seiðjarn of their own, and even if we somehow found a way to teach them.. that would take too long. I can’t risk Askr’s safety like that.”

Takumi’s eyes narrowed, thinking deeply. While they had their powers as god and goddess, they both knew flaunting them would expose their secret. A risk they weren’t ready to take yet, until the time was right. While Robyn could edit memories, it wouldn’t work if someone happened to secretly witness them-

“..Wait!” I have an idea!” Robyn’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. “Part of their power comes from using modified equipment right? So if we modified by equipment, since they’re after me, I could give them a nasty surprise. I could even use myself as a lure since I’m the one they want anyways.”

It was indeed a good plan, but it still made the prince a bit uneasy.

“I know you’re capable of looking after yourself but.. I don’t want you going alone. If we do this, I’m coming with you.”

The determined look in his wife’s eyes softened when they met his worried ones, the fire reflecting beautifully off the glow of her azaleas in the gloom.

“Takumi, even if I became the strongest in all the worlds, I’d still want you by my side. We’re in this together.”

The rest of the night was spent absorbed in plotting, until they had a full plan of coat modifications.

“If we combine Seiðjarn with my mana, we can enhance both speed, strength, and defense!” she exclaimed, then stopped with a frown. “Ah but.. as amazing as an idea as this is.. I imagine it’ll be incredibly costly. I’m not sure Anna would be willing to part with that much..”

Mystified, Robyn tilted her head as Takumi reached into his pocket to pull out a beautiful red crystal.

“One of the enemies dropped it last battle. I wanted to give it to you, but-“

“..Use it for the coat.”

“..Are you sure?”

Robyn smiled at her husband, reaching to gently close his hand. He’d always spoiled her with gifts, and it warmed her heart to know that in the midst of war, he still thought of her.

“..I’m grateful that you always take the time to think of me. It really does make me feel special. But you’re right. It would shoulder the cost and protecting Askr is our priority. You can always spoil me with something else. ..I’ll spoil you too.”

A pleasant flush sprang onto the Hoshidan prince’s cheeks and he gave her a soft look.

“Then it’s settled. We’ll set out in the morning!”

Robyn smiled as she put the pouch containing the bento boxes into her logbook’s convoy. While Takumi went to make the arrangements for their whereabouts with Alfonse, she’d slipped into the kitchen to prepare a lovely surprise for her husband.

I said I’d spoil him after all! she thought with a soft giggle as she cleaned up, then hurried off to meet with Takumi, who was waiting by the entrance with two cloaks in hand.

“Ready?” he asked, passing her one as they put them on.

If they walked into enemy territory as they were, they’d stick out like a sore thumb. The cloaks were to help them not to draw attention. The view was familiar to Robyn as she flipped the hood up. Takumi on the other hand.. not so much.

“I don’t know how you put up with this for so long..” the prince grumbled. “I feel blind.”

The spikes in his silver hair stuck up under the hood, leaving a comically large bulge in the back of his head. Robyn’s shoulders shook as she stifled a laugh, Takumi blushing crimson.

“D-don’t laugh at me..” he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

“Sorry!” she chuckled. “Here, hold still..”

She reached to adjust the hood, smoothing it out so it looked natural. With the hooded cloak and the Fujin Yumi slung over his back, the prince looked like an assassin, and the look oddly suited him..

“Wh-what is it?” Takumi asked, eyeing her flushed cheeks curiously.

“Nothing it’s just..” The flush grew. “..Y-you look attractive as an assassin..”

“O-oh.. really?”

Robyn’s head bobbed in confirmation, a smile making its way to the prince’s lips. Takumi kissed her forehead softly, then they were off. The Summoner couldn’t help but feel excited. She’d never been to Niðavellir before, just read books about it during her late nights with Takumi.

Maybe I’ll get some answers here about my old life! If my kingdom had technology or machinery, this might give me a clue about my past life!

“Well it’s definitely.. different.” Takumi muttered, hazel eyes scanning their new environment, a disapproving look in his eyes.

Robyn couldn’t blame him. The whirling mechanisms, dark buildings, and harsh air was definitely overwhelming, especially if one hadn’t seen it before. The Summoner on the other hand, was not overwhelmed.

There’s a vague sense of familiarity. Maybe my kingdom was based more in the future? At the very least, they had some sort of technology. But we definitely didn’t have those mechanical horses. Kiyoshi, Leafa, and I fought with weapons like Askr.

It was the same in her dream too, Kiyoshi, Asahi, and Hisashi had all fought with swords, daggers, and a scythe.

“I don’t know how anyone can stand to live here, advanced or not. Let’s get this over with.” he added.

The next few hours were spent searching for the nearest village, their cloaks helping to avoid unwanted attention.

“Look, there’s a path here that goes through a forest!” Robyn called.

Her husband gave the nature themed path an approving nod.

“Let’s check it out!”

The path eventually led to a scenic village, a far cry from the harsh, unnatural city that they first arrived in. It took some time, but they eventually came across an armory.

“Ah, quite the pretty little gem you’ve got there!” the kind, elderly shop owner remarked, inspecting the crystal Takumi presented him with. “What can I do for ya?”

“..We were wondering if you could infuse this cloak with Seiðjarn.” Takumi replied as he placed the cloak and the drawings in front of him.

“Well this is a first!” the shop owner said as he looked the cloak over. “Most young ‘uns these days come in here askin’ for them big metal steeds. But seeing this reminds me of the things I used to dream up of in my childhood.”

Robyn beamed at the wistful look in the old man’s eyes.

“Give me till the sun is high in the sky. I reckon I’ll be done with it then.”

The couple gave their thanks, and headed outside.

“Well.. I guess we have some time to kill.” Takumi remarked as they left the shop. “What shall we do?”

Robyn took in the lush scenery and shops, feeling her shoulders relax as an idea came to mind. Something neither of them got much time to do.

“Let’s.. go on a date.”

Even under his hood, Robyn could see the blush creeping on Takumi’s cheeks.

“A date? That’s what you want us to do with our free time?” She nodded. “Ah well.. I’m flattered actually. What shall we do, Robyn?”

A small hidden grove just past the armory caught her eye, perfect for what she had in mind as she grabbed Takumi’s hand and pulled him excitedly behind her.

“This way!”

“H-hey now!” Takumi yelped as he was tugged along, but Robyn could hear the chuckle in his voice.

The path was lined with purple flowers that swayed gently in the breeze, giving way to a lovely tree with overhanging fronds.

“It’s perfect!” she sang, floating over to it. “..Is anyone around?”

“No.” Takumi said, concentrating. They let down their hoods, and the prince took a seat beside her, a faint smile on his lips. “What are you planning?”

“This!”

With flourish, Robyn lifted a hand to summon her logbook, Takumi’s eyes lighting up with a mixture of curiosity and excitement when she produced two boxes, setting one in his lap.

“Is.. this a bento?”

“Yep! I.. made these especially for you. There’s three layers.”

“Y-you really did this for me?”

There’s that adorable blush.. Robyn thought dreamily as the prince eagerly opened the top.

“It’s tamago sando!”

“Try it.” she encouraged, finding the prince’s enthusiasm endearing.

Takumi didn’t need anymore encouragement, his hazel eyes widening with wonder as he bit into it.

“Whoa.. this is amazing! It tastes even better than the ones in Hoshido!”

“You flatter me, Prince Takumi.” Robyn said, taking a bite of her own.

He was right, it was indeed delicious. The eggs were a perfect balance of sweet and creamy thanks to the mayo. Takumi blushed slightly at the name.

“Why so formal? We’re married now.”

“I know.” Robyn replied simply. “I just like saying your name like that. It.. sounds nice on you.”

“I see..”

There was a pause, his eyebrows furrowed in thought before Takumi grinned and replied

“..Thank you.. Princess Robyn.”

Now it was her turn to blush, and looking satisfied, the Hoshidan prince resumed eating. The flowers swayed, sending a cloud of petals billowing around them. The overhanging tree and the forest created the perfect amount of shade, like they were in their own little world as they finished their sandwiches. Robyn watched in anticipation as her husband opened the next layer of bento and was greeted by a steaming bowl of..

“Miso soup? You know me too well.” he chuckled, inhaling the scent, his head tilting curiously. “It smells different than usual. New recipe?”

“Try it.” Robyn invited, taking a sip of her own broth.

The prince complied, brightening with recognition.

“This is white miso broth isn’t it?”

“I had Felicia get me some ingredients for it the other day. I wanted to surprise you. In exchange, I gave her the glitter hair again.”

“I bet she had fun with that. This is really good by the way. You didn’t have to go out of your way just for me.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

They shared a chuckle, both probably picturing the clumsy maid frolicking around the local Askrian village for ingredients, humming yet another out of tune song. Robyn fished some of her tofu out of her bowl and held it out to Takumi, who smiled and leaned in to accept the bite.

“Here, you can have mine. You like it more anyways.”

“You’re the only one I know who likes miso soup just for the broth.” Takumi teased and Robyn just shrugged.

“It’s warm and comforting. I’m just not a huge fan of tofu! Or seaweed. Unless it’s in sushi.” she defended herself lightly.

“More for me then!”

They finished the soup, Takumi holding up the purple mochi with an intrigued frown.

“It’s so.. vibrant. How’d you manage to get it this color? And what flavor is it?”

“What indeed?”

She watched eagerly as he tried it, looking utterly fascinated by the flavor.

“It’s like honey and vanilla! I’ve never had anything like it!”

“It’s called taro.” Robyn replied as she relished the taste of her own. “Ricken and I found some purple yams out in the field and decided to roast them. They tasted more sweet than savory so I decided to try making mochi with it.”

“And the color itself is already appealing.. imagine the things you could make with it..”

“I’ll have to indulge you on that.” Robyn chuckled as they finished their bentos and stood up, her hand finding its way into Takumi’s as they explored the little grove, the sight in front of her stopping her in her tracks.

“Takumi.. look!”

She let go of his hand to gaze about in wonder.

Flowers swayed gently in the wind, butterflies adrift. The field of flowers reminding the Summoner of their shared dream the night he’d seen her face the first time in the gardens. In her excitement, she turned to face her husband to see him with his hand outstretched and a serene look shining in his hazel eyes.

“Robyn.. may I have this dance?”

Eyes misted with emotion, she took his hand and stepped into his arms. Their feet stirred the petals as they slow danced round and round, the petals and the plants sweet scent wreathed around them. And somewhere still, Robyn swore she could hear that violin playing again.

“Remember how we danced in that dream?” she whispered, and Takumi smiled.

“How could I forget? We were so carefree.. like children. And in that moment.. I wanted to be like those children. Just a little less serious. And now here we are. Dancing in the flower fields of our enemies like nothing else matters.” Takumi murmured fervently as he lifted her in the air and spun her.

“Mommy, look!” a cry of a little girl drew the couple’s attention as Takumi set her down and they resumed their dance. “They’re dancing like a prince and princess!”

“Yes they are.” the woman chuckled. “That’s young love for you.”

“I’m gonna find young love too mommy! Just wait!”

The pair chuckled to themselves as Takumi twirled Robyn.

“I hope Kisaragi can grow up as carefree as us.” Robyn murmured as they walked hand and hand into the bookstore, where they got some lavender vanilla tea and some history and philosophy books, then sat down together to read them.

Robyn snuggled close to Takumi as they sipped their tea and pooled over their shared book. People stared, but neither of them cared.

“Look at the couple by the fire! They’re so cute together! I’m jealous!” one of the village woman whispered.

Robyn smirked a bit as she lifted a bite of fruit tart onto a fork and held it out to Takumi, who leaned in to accept the bite without hesitation.

“And she’s feeding him! Ugh, where can I get that in life?!” another one hissed.

“Show off.” Takumi teased her in a whisper, but he certainly looked satisfied by the attention.

“Couldn’t resist. I want everyone to know you’re mine.” she replied simply, causing the prince to flush.

When they were done with their tea, they strolled around the bookstore amicably until they stumbled across a children’s section with a tent for reading.

“My prince.. your castle awaits!” Robyn said, gesturing grandly to the tent as she held the flap open for him.

Shaking his head in amusement, the prince played along, climbing inside. Robyn followed suit, and pressed close together, they read through a stack of children’s books, absorbed in their own little world of wonder and imagination until the sun was high in the sky. And then they returned to the old man’s shop, who greeted them with a toothy grin as he held up the cloak.

“And there ye have it. One Seiðjarn cloak as requested. I must say, I outdid myself with this one.”

“Thank you.” Takumi responded formally as he accepted the garment.

He and Robyn agreed not to test it out until they were back in Askr, so they wouldn’t have to risk someone seeing. There was a twinkle in the old man’s gaze as he gave them a slow nod.

“Yer gonna do big things with that. Good things. I feel proud knowin’ my work will make this world a better place.”

Robyn and Takumi traded knowing looks at this. Both knew they wouldn’t let the old man down.

*********************************

The fire flickered gently in Takumi’s room as he hovered over Robyn’s bare body, illuminated by the fire and moon as he drank in every detail. His mind flickered back to the events that led to this moment. As soon as they were alone, she’d pinned him to the wall with his hands above his head again, pressing her lips to his neck as she whispered fervently in his ear.

“You know what I want you to do to me right now?” she whispered. “I want you to pin me to your bed and love me until neither of us can take anymore. I want you to love me so passionately the only thing I’ll be able to say after is your name.”

And Takumi did not disappoint. Their shared nights in bed was one of the best parts of their relationship, a sediment he doubted she’d disagree with.

“I feel.. so whole right now.” he breathed. “I don’t know how I could ever go back to not having you.”

There was a lull in his movements as Robyn reached up to caress his cheek tenderly, her violet eyes brimming with love, her fingers laced with his own.

“I feel the same. I always feel so physically and emotionally closer to you after. So.. connected.”

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” he whispered as he started to move again, smiling to himself when Robyn’s body responded instantly to him, a quiet gasp escaping her.

She was so sensitive, and he loved how easily he was able to get her like this, her grip on his hand and back tightening as the bed rocked gently.

“You are.. my fate.” Robyn panted with conviction. “No words could possibly express it enough. The salvation that saved me from weariness.. Is this a better way to explain the words that saved me?”

She drew him closer, deepening the intimate contact between them. Her warm breath touched his neck, those sweet words filling his ears.

“I’ll stay by your side night after night. I’ll stay by your side after countless nights.. even if my feet bleed! And that.. barely scratches the surface in how you make me feel.”

Hearing such a confession in the throes of passion ignited something inside Takumi, and he slowly increased force of his movements until Robyn was crying out softly from the vigorous pace. Not from pain, but pure bliss.

“You.. you make me feel complete. All this fear and anxiety I used to carry just disappears when I see you. And the way you look at me.. it’s like I’m the only one that matters. That’s how I know things are right.”

Robyn wasn’t able to form words past the soft moans escaping her lips as she buried her face in his neck, Takumi continuing to whisper sweet nothings to her.

“Robyn I..” Takumi paused to collect his thoughts. “You make me want to be a better person. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to prove to my siblings that I’m worthy of respect and honor, and not just in Ryoma’s shadow. Do you know what you make me feel like?”

His pace slowed again, keeping the same force, so she could feel all his love in both physical and emotional form.

“I feel loved. You managed to turn my life upside down in the best way possible.”

“I love you Takumi..” Robyn replied, her breathing ragged as she brought her lips to his.

“I love you too, Robyn.”

Takumi kissed her deeply, his arms coming around her shoulders to draw her even closer, every movement sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“You’re everything to me. And because you accept me and my flaws.. I’m a happier and stronger man because of it.”

“Even in your deepest pain, your weakest hour, your darkest night.. you’re still perfect.” she breathed. “And in your darkest moments, I will become your sword, your strength.. your shield.

The words hung over the couple like a blanket of love as they continued till sunrise.

This isn’t just intimacy.. Takumi reflected. This is making love.

[thetombedspirit]

Headcanons for GOW: RAGNAROK - Hel and Sleipnir

So, along with Hel, I was wondering how Sleipnir could factor into this universe as well, with him being another child of Loki and the steed of Odin in OG Norse Mythos, and I think I worked out the kinks.

Here’s my take - 

Sleipnir was a young giant and one of the remaining Midgardian Jötunn alongside Laufey and Jormangandr, always just evading Thor’s grasp by turning into an eight-legged stallion and running faster then lightning, running across oceans and sailing through skies. Odin finally sent Heimdall after him, calling it a test of his skills of prediction, to find the Jötnar and capture him. With the assistance of an enchanted bridle and some Bifrost horseshoes, made by the dwarves, Heimdall was able to trap Sleipnir in his stallion form with the bridle and used the horseshoes to steal five of his legs, scattering four across the realms and gifting the fifth to Odin, bending the giant to Odin's will. He was made into Odin’s personal steed. Sleipnir was often abused and threatened in his torment, but was unable to fight back, the brindle making him obedient and silent.

Sleipnir is practically a young adult when Ragnarok comes. It wasn’t until after the fall of Asgard, that Sleipnir would finally be free. As Atreus was leaving Midgard to search for the lost Giants, he heard a soul in pain and found Sleipnir by the Lake of Nine, behaving like the soulless animals in Jotunheim: licking at the ice on the lake and clearly not adept to care for himself. Noticing the enchantments of the bridle, he takes it off, removing the spell on Sleipnir’s mind, but sadly not the enchantment that trapped him in his stallion form. Without so much as a thank you, he flees, leaving Atreus stunned. And with Odin's personal horseshoe.

After years of trying to rid himself of his curse, Sleipnir finds himself caught in a snare. He is quickly found by Ursa, Atreus’ daughter and around her neck was none other then the Bifrost horseshoe. He asks for the horseshoe, and Ursa gives it willingly, restoring his fourth leg. Ursa then promises to help him find the rest.

Recognising her as the child of his previous rescuer, he wasn’t sure what to think. He becomes curious of her, especially as she appears to be talking to a silent companion within a little marble she carries closely. Curious, he finds himself following her, eventually revealing himself as a fellow Giant. He essentially becomes like a big brother/grumpy uncle towards Ursa, mirroring Kratos. The bigger, stronger carer, for the smaller, ambitious child. And becomes a protector as she travels across the Eight Realms in her self-elected quest.

[sigyn-foxyposts]

So being the Hel obsessed person I am, I've seen how people are randomly choosing to believe that Krampus is Hel's child, even though it isn't stated anywhere and personally I don't actually think so either. 🤨

Its origin most likely came from fiction, but fine, I'll make something out of this just for fun!

‼️Saying this before hand‼️

I have my own personal headcannons, such as Hel being in a relationship with the Celtic warrior and death goddess The Morrigan. It is not to offend people by any means. So please no hate to this minor detail I've added to this short story. :]

Hel: 💚

The Morrigan: 💜

---------------------✨💀✨

Riding her horse, Helhest, in midgard in the dead of night. Hel had only planned on a short travel for some fresh air because after all, It was snowing heavily and all she heard was the screaming wind. Until something interrupts it, something in the wilderness she was currently in was crying out.

Out of curiosity, she follows the crying and sees something wrapped in a blanket just laying in the snow, she gets off her horse, walking over to inspect. To the queens utter surprise this creature..is an infant.

But not a human infant, one could never survive this cold. The child was covered in fur, that of brown or black, and it's little cloven hooves and horns, presumably that of a goat stuck out from the cloth it was wrapped in.

"You poor thing.. Are you abandoned?"

Hel looks around, despite it being too dark to see anything. Looking for someone or something that might have put the child here. It felt too strange just seeing this creature being left out here alone. Especially with how it looked.

She picks up the child to stop it from crying and to give it some kind of warmth and comfort, she waited for sometime.

"Is there someone out here?". She gets no response as expected.

She stares down at the creature, it's yellow glowing eyes staring right back at her with innocence. She had a feeling she might want to bring this child back to her hall and Wife, The Morrigan.

For she too was just abandoned and left to rot.. Now she had the chance to change that fate for someone else.

"So it seems you are not wanted then, something I know too well little one. Let us not stand here any longer."

Hel unwraps the blanket slightly to make a makeshift carrier for the baby, so she could carry it while getting back on her horse. The horse neighs and stomps its feet slightly as Hel approaches it with their new friend. Hel comforts her steed, before taking a seat onto the satelle and going off.

When she finally enters her realm, reaching her castle and tall mighty walls surrounding it, The Morrigan had already expected her arrival. She stands by the huge doors, arms crossed with a smirk.

"Ah so you return and now we are with child, my dear?"

"I suppose, if you'd want to accept it as our own"

[stefselfslagh]

Nathalie Huygens: "Ik leef nog omdat ik dood mag gaan."

Acht jaar geleden werd Nathalie Huygens (52) op een gruwelijke manier verkracht. Haar leven werd zo'n hel dat ze toestemming kreeg om euthanasie te plegen. Over de impact van haar verkrachting schreef ze zopas een aangrijpend boek. "Mijn woorden moesten absoluut even rauw zijn als de realiteit."

Laten we, het kan niet anders, eerst de feiten reconstrueren. Al vertolkt het woord 'feiten' enkel het waargebeurde karakter van de gebeurtenissen. Niet de wreedheid ervan.

In de ochtend van 3 september 2016 wordt Nathalie Huygens al joggend gegrepen door een man. Hij gooit haar in een greppel en begint met zijn vuisten op haar gezicht te beuken. Nathalie voelt haar kaken, tanden en oogkassen breken en weet: als hij me nog één keer slaat, ben ik dood. Ze stopt met terugvechten, de man kalmeert en sleurt haar mee naar een veld. Daar duwt hij een mes in haar gezicht en verkracht hij haar. Keer op keer. Opnieuw en opnieuw. Op een beestachtige, barbaarse manier. Na wat niet alleen een eeuwigheid lijkt, maar dat ook is, laat hij Nathalie voor dood achter. Ze vraagt zich af of ze nog een gezicht heeft, raapt wat er nog van haar overblijft bijeen en gaat naar huis. Soms stappend, soms kruipend.

In de jaren die volgen zijn er moedeloosmakend veel operaties nodig om de fysieke kwetsuren van Nathalie te doen helen. Maar het is vooral de psychische pijn die haar opvreet. Ze verandert van een levenslustige, onbezorgde vrouw in iemand die niet meer weet hoe te werken. Hoe te moederen. Hoe te leven. Er komen momenten van grote radeloosheid, gevolgd door momenten van nog grotere radeloosheid. Er komen zelfmoordpogingen, psychiatrische opnames en daden van zelfverminking. En ondertussen vervreemdt ze steeds meer van haar man en haar kinderen. Nog voor 2018 begint, valt haar gezin uit elkaar. Leven wordt een synoniem van afzien, Nathalie dient compleet uitgeput een euthanasie-aanvraag in. Twee psychiaters en een arts oordelen dat haar lijden de kwalificatie 'ondraaglijk' verdient en willigen haar verzoek in. Sindsdien pendelt ze in haar hoofd heen en weer tussen 'nog even doorgaan' en 'mezelf eindelijk verlossen'.

In Het Begon Toen Het Voorbij Was, haar zopas verschenen boek, beschrijft Nathalie hoe ze alles kwijtraakte wat haar dierbaar was. Ze doet dat op een rauwe, onverbloemde manier: als ze rapporteert hoe ze met een schroevendraaier haar voorhoofd probeerde weg te krassen, voel je de stalen punt haast over je eigen vel schuren. Dat ze zich in haar boek tot een onzichtbare lezer kan richten, verloste haar naar eigen zeggen van de drang om anderen tegen de ongemakkelijkheid van haar verhaal in bescherming te nemen. Het maakt van Het Begon Toen Het Voorbij Was een goudeerlijk, maar ook buitengewoon pijnlijk boek: je hebt tijdens het lezen geregeld de neiging om je handen voor je ogen te houden. Tegelijk is de openheid van Huygens precies wat haar boek zo revelerend maakt. Wanneer ze haar verkrachting omschrijft als 'een misdaad in haar eigen lichaam' en haar pijn als 'ondraaglijke, smerige, kapotgeslagen, verkrachte degoutantigheid' kan je je zelfs als man iets voorstellen bij de impact van zwaar seksueel geweld. Opvallend: Het Begon Toen Het Voorbij Was kent geen ontknoping. Er is geen apotheose, geen catharsis, geen verlossing. De ultieme vraag die het boek opwerpt: kan een verwoest leven nog wel gerestaureerd worden?

Ik ontmoet Nathalie Huygens in de kantoren van uitgeverij Pelckmans in Antwerpen. Haar verhaal is er gedomicilieerd, ze kent er mensen, ze voelt zich er veilig. Ik ben nerveuzer dan ik doorgaans ben voor een interview. Hoe begroet je iemand die dood wil? Welke vragen stel je aan iemand die geen antwoorden meer heeft? Hoe maak je contact met iemand die zich omschrijft als een geest in haar eigen bestaan?              

We nemen plaats in een vergaderzaal die de komende twee uur onzichtbaar zal worden. We krijgen koffies die we ons pas na ons gesprek weer zullen herinneren. Ik leg een bandopnemer op tafel die nog geen idee heeft van waar hij aan begint.

Af en toe zal Nathalie fluisteren. Alsof haar verhaal wat minder waar wordt als ze het wat minder luid vertelt. Af en toe zal ze haperen. Alsof ze vindt dat ze zwijgend meer gezegd krijgt dan pratend. En af en toe zal ze lachen. Alsof ze ondanks alles niet vergeten is dat endorfine een natuurlijke pijnstiller is.

Mijn eerste vraag is ingegeven door bezorgdheid.

Zie je dit interview wel zitten, Nathalie? Je schrijft in je boek dat je sinds 3 september 2016 op elk moment wil kunnen gaan en staan waar je wil. Dat kan de komende twee uur in principe niet.

"Als ik in de loop van ons gesprek de drang voel opkomen om weg te gaan, doe ik dat gewoon. Je hebt mijn boek gelezen, je kent mijn verhaal, je zal mij wel begrijpen. Maar als ik hier zou zitten met iemand die niks over mij weet, en ik bijvoorbeeld twee uur lang een enquète zou moeten invullen, zou ik helemaal kapot gaan. Ik kan niet tegen het gevoel van vast te zitten. Dan wil ik vluchten. Hoe graag ik ook weer volwaardig deel zou uitmaken van de maatschappij, sommige dingen blijven moeilijk."

Het Begon Toen Het Voorbij Was startte vijf jaar geleden als een reeks notities: aan jezelf, aan je therapeuten, aan niemand in het bijzonder. Waarom heb je van je aantekeningen een boek gemaakt?

"Dat was ik aanvankelijk niet van plan. Het is niet omdat je iets ergs hebt meegemaakt dat je er per se een boek over moet schrijven, vind ik. En ik zoek evenmin de schijnwerpers op: ik wil juist klein en onopvallend blijven. Maar in de loop der jaren hebben therapeuten en medepatiënten me regelmatig gezegd dat ze mijn woorden waardevol vonden. Dat de manier waarop ik iets zei of schreef hen hielp om een aantal dingen beter te snappen of te formuleren. Daarom heb ik het boek toch geschreven. Ik denk dat het mensen kan helpen om te begrijpen wat de enorme impact van seksueel geweld kan zijn. En dat het lotgenoten wat steun en herkenning kan bieden."

Heeft het schrijven van je boek joú geholpen? Is het op één of andere manier therapeutisch geweest?

"Nee. Ik heb mijn verkrachting niet 'van me afgeschreven', zoals mensen soms lijken te denken. Ik kamp nog elke dag met de gevolgen ervan. De verschijning van mijn boek maakt mijn leven zelfs nog moeilijker. De voorbije jaren heb ik in al mijn naïviteit weleens gedacht: 'Ik beleef gewoon een hele lange nachtmerrie. Op een dag word ik wakker en zeg ik tegen iedereen: jullie moeten eens weten wat ik nu gedroomd heb.' Maar nu mijn boek er is, denk ik: 'Mijn verhaal heeft een tastbare vorm gekregen, nu zal ik wel nooit meer uit mijn nachtmerrie ontwaken.' Ik ben bang voor het onomkeerbare van mijn boek. Voor de mentale vluchtroute die ik er mee afsluit."

Je hebt je boek zelf geschreven. Sterker nog: je stond erop dat er geen woord veranderd werd.

(knikt) "Ik wilde niet dat mijn zinnen mooier gemaakt werden. Sommige passages zullen stevig binnenkomen. Maar de realiteit is ook stevig binnengekomen. En die kan ik ook niet herschrijven. Ik wilde duidelijk maken hoe het was. Hoe het is. Dat kan alleen met mijn eigen woorden. Annick (Ruyts, schrijfster en columniste, red.) heeft me wel geholpen om enkele hiaten in mijn verhaal op te vullen. Om het boek een heldere structuur te geven. Maar ze heeft niks herschreven."

Je bent in het begin van je boek heel open over wat er de ochtend van 3 september 2016 gebeurd is. Toch zijn er ook dingen die je niét geschreven krijgt.

(stil) "Tijdens mijn verkrachting stonden al mijn zintuigen op scherp. Ze waren allemaal tegelijk aan het waarnemen en registreren. Maar er gebeurde ontzettend veel. Mijn hersenen konden nauwelijks vatten wat zich aan het afspelen was. Wat ik voelde. Wat ik rook. Wat ik proefde. Waartoe ik gedwongen werd. Ik kan dat vandaag niet neerschrijven zonder dat ik ... (valt stil) Ik kan dat gewoon niet neerschrijven."

Veel mensen probeerden je na je verkrachting te troosten met de woorden: 'Je was op het verkeerde moment op de verkeerde plaats.' Dat maakte je opstandig.

"De mensen die dat zeiden, bedoelden het goed: ze wilden beklemtonen dat mijn verkrachting een jammerlijke speling van het lot was, dat ik er niks aan kon doen. Alleen: ze gebruikten twee keer het woord 'verkeerd'. Terwijl ik helemaal níks verkeerds heb gedaan. Ik was op het juiste moment en op de juiste plaats. Het is mijn dader, en alleen mijn dader, die iets verkeerds heeft gedaan."

De dader werd gevat en tot vijftien jaar cel veroordeeld. Drie jaar geleden ben je hem in de gevangenis gaan opzoeken. Begrijpt hij wat hij heeft aangericht?

"Even heb ik gedacht van wel: tijdens ons gesprek heeft hij zich een paar keer omgedraaid om zijn tranen weg te vegen. Maar een paar weken later vond hij plots dat hij al lang genoeg in de gevangenis had gezeten en vroeg hij om elektronisch toezicht. Je kan je dus afvragen of zijn emoties tijdens onze ontmoeting wel zo oprecht waren. Het gevoel dat ik aan ons gesprek heb overgehouden, is dat het gemakkelijker is om een dader te zijn dan een slachtoffer. Voor mijn dader is alles glashelder: zijn opsluitings-termijn, zijn bezoekregeling, noem maar op. Maar wat is míj́n traject? Míj́n termijn? Wanneer ga ík mij beter voelen? Als mijn dader zich goed gedraagt, komt hij vroeger vrij. Maar ik gedraag mij ook goed. En ik krijg géén strafvermindering."

Ze zegt het met de gedrevenheid van een advocate die haar slotpleidooi houdt. Maar het kan de aandacht niet afleiden van het leed in haar ogen. Wanneer ik aangeef dat ik Het Begon Toen Het Voorbij Was in al zijn helaasheid een prachtige titel vind, slaakt ze een zucht die tegelijkertijd 'dankjewel' en 'had ik die titel maar nooit moeten bedenken' zegt.

"Na mijn verkrachting krabbelde ik weer recht en dacht ik: het is voorbij. Ik zag mijn dader wegstappen, ik leefde nog, de conclusie kon alleen maar zijn: het is godzijdank achter de rug. Maar eigenlijk moest het allemaal nog beginnen. Moest de grootste gruwel nog komen. We zijn vandaag acht jaar verder en mijn leven is nog altijd een martelgang. Soms vraag ik mij af: heb ik in die acht jaar iets fouts gedaan? Had ik andere therapieën moeten volgen? Meer medicatie moeten slikken? Had ik dan verder gestaan  in mijn verwerkingsproces? Of had het allemaal geen verschil gemaakt? Het enige wat ik zeker weet, is dat ik altijd ben blijven vechten. Dat ik nog elke dag keihard mijn best doe om te functioneren. Ik blijf boodschappen doen, koken, wassen, strijken en schoonmaken. Je weet nooit dat het op een dag beter met me gaat. Dan kan ik gewoon weer in het leven stappen zonder dat ik eerst de vloer moet dweilen."

Ik durf het nauwelijks te opperen, maar misschien moet je je nu en dan juist wél laten gaan. Misschien werkt het louterend.  

"Ik heb dat een tijd geleden eens geprobeerd. Ik ging in de zetel liggen en nam me voor om er niet meer uit te komen. Al na vijf minuten kwam er een innerlijke dialoog op gang: 'Is het normaal dat ik mij zo verveel? Wat doen andere mensen eigenlijk als ze zich laten gaan? Ik heb zin in thee. Maar iemand die zich laat gaan, zet toch geen thee voor zichzelf?' Na een kwartier ben ik huilend uit de zetel gekropen: 'Ik kan mij niet eens deftig laten gaan!' (glimlacht) Het is behoorlijk vermoeiend om zo perfectionistisch zijn."  

'De vrouw die ik was, is op 3 september 2016 gestorven', stel je in je boek. Je schrijft geregeld over Nathalie alsof het iemand anders is. Heb je het gevoel dat de dader jou teniet heeft gedaan?

(knikt) "Uiterlijke letsels kan je wegpoetsen en herstellen. Maar een misdaad die ín je lichaam gepleegd wordt, kan je niet uitwissen. Mijn dader heeft zich mijn lichaam toegeëigend en er iemand anders in achtergelaten. Meteen na mijn verkrachting voelde ik al: 'Ik ben niet meer wie ik was, Nathalie is dood.' Maar niemand begreep dat. 'Voor ons ben je nog altijd dezelfde', zei iedereen. Dat was alweer goedbedoeld, maar het veegde wel mijn gevoel onder de mat. Want ik dacht alleen maar: 'Nee! Ik zeg net dat ik niét meer dezelfde ben!'  De enige twee mensen die ooit begrepen hebben dat mijn dader mij in iemand anders heeft getransformeerd, zijn mijn kinderen. "Jij bent mama niet meer", zeiden ze op een gegeven moment. Dat was enerzijds confronterend, maar anderzijds dacht ik ook: 'Oef, eindelijk iemand die het snapt.'"

Wat je in je boek over je kinderen schrijft, gaat door merg en been: 'Het schijnt dat die twee mensen mijn kinderen zijn. Maar ik voel het niet meer.' Begrijp je dat dat voor een buitenstaander nauwelijks te vatten is?

"Ja. Mocht ik mezelf niet zijn, ik zou het ook niet begrijpen. Maar het is wel wat ik voel. Wout en Tine zijn op de wereld gezet door Nathalie. En Nathalie is in het veld achtergebleven. Ik heb soms het gevoel dat ik de boel aan het belazeren ben als ik zeg dat ik de mama van Wout en Tine ben. (na een stilte) Begrijp me niet verkeerd: ik zie mijn kinderen doodgraag. Mochten ze de straat oversteken en er kwam een bus aan, ik sprong er onmiddellijk voor. Maar tegelijkertijd zijn mijn gevoelens voor hen na mijn verkrachting helemaal veranderd. We zien elkaar regelmatig, maar het is net alsof ik in hun bijzijn verdoofd ben. Ofwel kán ik niet meer voelen wat ik als mama hoor te voelen, ofwel dúrf ik het niet meer. Ik word er compleet wanhopig van. Ik hoop al acht jaar dat mijn moedergevoel gaat terugkomen. Het enige wat ik ooit heb willen zijn, is een mama."

Kunnen Wout en Tine zich bij jouw gebluste moederinstinct neerleggen? Kunnen ze zeggen: we snappen het niet, maar we hebben er wel begrip voor?

"Ik denk dat het voor Wout en Tine minder pijnlijk was geweest als mijn dader mij ook vermoord had. Dan hadden ze tenminste om mij kunnen rouwen. Nu is hun moeder er nog. Maar het is hun moeder niet meer. Dat moet een vreselijk gevoel zijn."

Wout en Tine begrijpen dat je wil sterven. "In mama haar plaats zou ik ook niet meer willen leven", zegt Wout. Zou je ook euthanasie hebben aangevraagd, mochten je kinderen protest hebben aangetekend?

"Ja. En ik weet: ook dat klinkt harteloos. Maar als je bereid bent om je eigen leven op te geven, wil dat maar één ding zeggen: dat je helemaal, maar dan ook he-le-maal op bent. Euthanasie is geen verdwijntruc: je komt nadien niet meer terug. Daar kies je dus alleen voor als je echt niet meer kan. Op de momenten waarop ik naar de dood verlang, verdwijnt de wereld rondom mij. Aan mijn kinderen denken, doe ik nog wanneer dat ik aan het afglijden ben. Maar op het moment dat ik de bodem van de put bereikt heb, dat alles zo zwart en zo zwaar is, ben ik helemaal alleen. Dan hou ik met niks of niemand meer rekening, omdat er ook niks of niemand meer ís."

Wat zeg je tegen mensen die erop staan je een egoïstische moeder te noemen?

"Dat ze moeten beseffen hoe gelukkig ze zijn dat ze zich niet in mij kunnen verplaatsen. Dat ze blij moeten zijn dat ze niet weten hoe het is om je volkomen radeloos te voelen. Als alles goed gaat, is de dood het meest angstaanjagende wat er is. Maar als doodgaan de enige manier is om niet meer af te zien, begin je daar toch anders over te denken."

Is euthanasie nog altijd je nooduitgang, de gedachte die je rust geeft? Of het is wel degelijk je eindbestemming, je enige uitweg?

"Ik ben streng voor mezelf: ik mag alleen euthanasie plegen als ik gedurende een lange periode geen enkele keer heb gedacht: 'Ik kan nog wel even verder.' Als ik het punt heb bereikt waarop ik me zelfs niet meer kan herinneren hoe geluk voelt. Maar ik probeer dat moment zo lang mogelijk uit te stellen."

De vergaderruimte waarin we zitten, is veel te mooi om er het woord zelfverminking in op te laten. Maar ik doe het toch, omdat Nathalie Huygens er in haar boek een aantal behoorlijk ontwrichtende alinea's aan wijdt.

Je hebt al een paar keer je gezicht beschadigd met een halter en een schroevendraaier. Het maakt je rustig, schrijf je. Kan je uitleggen waarom?

"Het lucht op. Het is een stap dichter bij de dood, het zorgt voor een ontlading. Plus: het is een manier om mijn innerlijke pijn zichtbaar te maken. Om de gedachten waar ik zo gek van word te veruiterlijken."

Waarom beschadig je altijd je gezicht, en geen andere delen van je lichaam?

"Ik weet het niet. Ik begrijp soms zelf niet waarom ik bepaalde dingen doe."

Heeft het te maken met het feit dat de dader je gezicht zo zwaar heeft toegetakeld?

"Ik weet het niet. Ik weet het echt niet."

De passages over je zelfverminking zijn ontredderend. Je kan er je pijn bijna in aanraken.

"Soms denk ik: 'Wat gaan de mensen allemaal over mij denken als ze lezen welke stoten ik heb uitgehaald?' Maar zoals gezegd: ik wilde in mijn boek niks verhullen. Als het in het echt rauw was, moest het ook in het boek rauw zijn."

Wat zijn de lichtpunten in je leven? Waar kan je nog van genieten?

"Van kleine dingen. De zon zien opgaan. Een eekhoorn zien voorbijhuppelen. Lachen om iets wat Wout of Tine gezegd hebben. (denkt na) Maar eigenlijk houdt vooral de wetenschap dat ik euthanasie mag plegen mij overeind. Het klinkt tegenstrijdig, maar ik leef nog omdat ik dood mag gaan. Omdat ik weet dat er een ontsnappingsroute is. (na een stilte) Maar verdorie, wat kan het leven toch pijn doen. Je hebt in mijn boek kunnen lezen dat ik al veel heb meegemaakt: ik heb mijn ouders op jonge leeftijd verloren, ik ben al eerder aangerand en ik heb een zwaar auto-ongeval gehad. Na al die gebeurtenissen dacht ik: 'Ik heb mijn deel van de miserie nu wel gehad, mij kan niks meer overkomen.' En toen kwam de ochtend van 3 september 2016. En wist ik: niemand heeft ooit 'zijn deel gehad'. Als je er zeker van wil zijn dat het noodlot je niet meer zal weten te vinden, moet je gewoon stoppen met leven. Jaren geleden al zei ik tegen mijn therapeuten: 'Wat als ik opnieuw gelukkig word? Dan kan ik dat geluk opnieuw verliezen.' Zelfs de gedachte aan een betere toekomst maakt me bang."

Staat je angst om toekomstig geluk weer kwijt te raken het vinden van toekomstig geluk niet in de weg?

"Natuurlijk, dat besef ik maar al te goed. Ik moet dúrven leven. En dat probeer ik ook. Het is niet omdat mijn euthanasie-aanvraag is goedgekeurd dat ik denk: 'Hehe, nu kan ik lekker achterover liggen.' Ik doe elke dag verschrikkelijk hard mijn best om weer beter te worden. (op fluistertoon) Maar het is zo uitputtend allemaal. Ik word zo moe van het proberen. Van het niet begrijpen van wat er allemaal met me gebeurt. Van het zoeken naar manieren om mezelf desondanks verstaanbaar te maken. Ik zou zo graag begrepen worden zonder woorden."

Er zijn de voorbije acht jaar nogal wat mensen uit je leven verdwenen. 'Het is het zien en bijna voelen van mijn pijn dat mensen afschrikt', schrijf je daarover. 'Ik ben besmettelijk, ik kan andere mensen mij niet aandoen.'

"Ik heb er voor mijn omgeving een gigantische puinhoop van gemaakt. Ik ben niet meer te begrijpen, niet meer te genieten en misschien zelfs niet meer lief te hebben. Soms wou ik dat mijn verkrachter mijn benen had afgehakt. Dan hadden de mensen tenminste iets aan mij gezien. Dan hadden ze het heel logisch gevonden dat ik bepaalde dingen niet meer kan. Maar uiterlijk mankeer ik op het eerste gezicht niks. En dus krijg ik vaak te horen: 'Wanneer ga jij de draad van je leven nu weer oppikken? Wanneer ga je die verkrachting eindelijk eens loslaten?' Het is slopend dat ik mij altijd moet verantwoorden."

Dat komt natuurlijk ook omdat geestelijke gezondheid minder serieus wordt genomen dan lichamelijk welzijn. Jouw fysieke revalidatietrajecten werden door de ziekteverzekering terugbetaald, jouw opnames in de psychiatrie niet.

"Dat is toch waanzinnig? Het is erg om te zeggen, maar een paar goed zichtbare fysieke kwetsuren hadden mijn leven, ook in financieel opzicht, een stuk makkelijker gemaakt."

Ondanks alles kan je nog altijd lachen, schrijf je een paar keer in je boek. Dat lijkt een tegenstrijdigheid, maar is het volgens mij niet.

"Nee. Humor gedijt bijzonder goed in wanhopige hoofden. Ook lachen is een manier om met pijn en verdriet om te gaan."

Dat humor tijdelijk voor verlossing zorgt, snap ik. Dat je ook troost vindt bij cavia's wat minder.

"Ach, mijn cavia's. (lacht) Ik ben dol op die beesten. Ze hebben zo'n dwaze kopjes. Als ik gewoon naar ze kijk, schiet ik al in de lach. Ik zou ze niet meer kunnen missen. Ze beuren me op, ik vind het zalig om ze te vertroetelen. Mijn kinderen hebben mij al laten weten dat mijn cavia's naar een asiel gaan als ik dood ben. Ik vermoed dat ze eigenlijk bedoelen: 'Mama, als je wil dat je cavia's een fijn leven hebben, zul je zelf ook moeten blijven leven.'"

Je hebt nog een andere reden om te blijven leven: het burgerlijk proces dat eind deze maand plaatsvindt. Daarop zal worden bepaald welke schadevergoeding de dader jou verschuldigd is. Maar als je vóór het proces sterft, krijg je geen schadevergoeding.

"Klopt, en dat zou voor Wout en Tine een ondraaglijke gedachte zijn. Niet alleen omwille van het geld. Maar ook omdat de straf van mijn dader dan helemaal voorbij zou zijn op de dag dat hij vrijkomt. Hij zou dan met een schone lei de gevangenis verlaten, terwijl wij nog altijd kniehoog in de modder staan."

Je noemt de dader consequent 'mijn' dader, valt me op.

"Hoe erg het ook is, er zijn op de hele planeet maar twee mensen die begrijpen wat er op 3 september 2016 gebeurd is. Hij was daar, ik was daar, en verder niemand. Er loopt voor altijd een onzichtbare lijn tussen ons. Dat is vreselijk, maar het is wel de realiteit. Mijn realiteit."

We besluiten dat er genoeg gezegd is, en dat wat nog niet gezegd is wellicht in haar boek staat. Even later meldt de fotografe zich. Ook auteurs die klein en onopval-lend willen blijven, moeten gefotografeerd worden.

Terwijl Eva Beusaert haar best doet om de fotoshoot zo pijnloos mogelijk te maken, dalen de voorbije twee uur in. Ik heb gehuiverd, ik heb gewalgd, ik heb kroppen van ontroering weggeslikt, een heel scala van emoties heb ik gevoeld. Maar het is nog altijd niks vergeleken met de emotionele cycloon die elke dag in Nathalie Huygens tekeergaat.

Dat die cavia's het maar niet wagen om dood te gaan.

[woordenschatverlof]

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Je weet het Je weet het en het maakt niet uit Het heeft nooit uitgemaakt want achter hem kom ik alleen mezelf tegen

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Ik ben een lege holte lelijk als een ongeboren kind Ik ben beestachtig, ik ben een clown-parasiet ik, ik, ik ik ik ik ik, ik? ik, ik, alsjeblieft ik vastgeklampt aan jou

Watermanpoëet Zorro, meneer de vos MC Hel Turksecommunistenmodel

De werkelijkheid was anders Friend of a friend Ik kende hem maar heb hem nooit gekend

vergeet hem nou, die kutfantoom