#index; mythos

[veiledfox]

"Maybe I should do a small shopping trip... get some new clothes... maybe a swimsuit, or some lingerie...?"

[pa1nrema1ns]

Master and Apprentice || Sung Jin-woo (Part 1 of 3)

Siren!Jin-woo x Deaf!Omega!reader

A/N - Hello everyone! This fic was inspired by the lovely @forbidden-sunlight's siren!au. We both collaborated on this piece and it serves as a direct sequel to her imagine, so do be sure to check it out first! This story picks up right where her imagine left off.

╰┈➤ Chapter Index

🪸 Prequel by @forbidden-sunlight 🌊 Part 2: Two Intertwining Melodies 🦈Part 3: In a Sea of Fire

Content warnings: 18+ MDNI, mythical creatures au, canon divergent, a/b/o dynamics, afab!reader, suggestive themes, obsessive thoughts, slightly ooc Jin-woo (he's very reverent towards Ashborn), mentions of violence, death, and despair, forbidden romance (humans and sirens are natural enemies), eventual yandere!Jin-woo.

Word Count - 3.6k

Summary - Sung Jin-woo seeks answers about his potential mate from Ashborn in the deepest depths of the abyss.

Dividers by @anitalenia and @firefly-graphics

After what feels like an eternity, Jin-woo comes to an abrupt stop. He wasn’t tired in the slightest, but he couldn’t finish this journey unless he was in the right frame of mind. If he was going to face the sea monarch, Ashborn, then he needed to compose himself. He was his mentor’s prized disciple, after all.

Resolute in his decision, Jin-woo pinches his brow, shuts his eyes, and releases a deep, suffering sigh. He had to stop ruminating over the useless ‘what ifs’ of his current situation and focus on the matter at hand. You emitting pheromones in his presence was proof enough that you were a compatible mate, but this would be meaningless if you were unreceptive to him. It also begs the question, was humanity even capable of consorting with sirens? In search of an answer, he reminisces about the tales of old passed down by generations of his kin, as well as the many speculations made by humans.

No one knew the exact origins of his species. Most humans assumed the progenitors were Persephone’s handmaidens, punished by Demeter after Hades had taken her daughter to the underworld and forced her into becoming his queen. Some stories also claimed that seafoam  birthed them, but Jin-woo scoffed at this particularly ridiculous rumor. A scholar had recently published an article on how sirens may actually be the offspring of the river deity Achelous and a divine songstress, citing notations from various mythos on this theory. In truth, reality was far simpler than any of these far-fetched narratives.

There was just no definitive explanation for the existence of sirens. They were not interchangeable with the peaceful denizens of the ocean, known as mermaids and mermen. While all fell under the umbrella of the term ‘merfolk,’ the sirens had a far more hostile and bloodstained relationship with humans.

Since time immemorial, his brethren were viewed as nothing but a scourge upon this world of humanity. Beautiful as a raging typhoon and every bit as devastating, the sirens served as harbingers of doom and destruction for those foolish enough to risk the perilous waters. Their heavenly voices were tantamount to the funeral dirges used to usher the dead into the afterlife. It would be understandable to believe that the sirens were the monsters in this baleful story. However, human nature at its core is fraught with wickedness, and men soon grew wise to the machinations of merfolk.

Odysseus was the first to survive an encounter with sirens. During his voyage to Ithaca, the cunning man had instructed his crew to plug their ears with beeswax, effectively blocking the intoxicating songs that had ended the lives of so many before them. Emboldened by the success of Odysseus’s scheme, other sailors began using this method to conquer the sea and establish trade routes. Within a matter of a couple hundred years, humans not only overcame their fear of sirens, but they also poached them. Huntsmen would capture, torture, and kill Jin-woo’s ancestors simply for crossing paths with them. Worse yet, these scoundrels would often murder merfolk solely to harvest their organs, bones, and scales. They would then use the defiled corpses as ingredients for commodities, medication, and even aphrodisiacs. It was truly grotesque, if not outright barbaric, and more than justified the ire his kind felt towards humanity. While they hunted for the noble sake of survival, men did it for bloodsport and money.

The horrific fates suffered by many of their beloved brothers and sisters particularly infuriated the alphas, with their robust constitutions and natural sense of leadership. With a thirst for vengeance, they began targeting and attacking ships, ports, and even beaches. The alphas considered any place or vehicle that harbored humans as eligible targets. The less temperamental betas remained neutral and avoided the bloodshed, opting to prey upon shoals of fish and other maritime animals instead. Omegas could not join in the hunt, as they were far too precious to lose. They were the most cherished and talented singers amongst the sirens and required around-the-clock protection because of their significant rarity. These were the origins of the current hierarchical structure Jin-woo adhered to.

After recalling the tumultuous history of his people in its entirety, Jin-woo clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. This was so damn frustrating! Rather than granting him an understanding of his attraction, it just proved all the more why it was so illogical. 

Defeated, Jin-woo raises his head, opens his eyes, and continues to swim.

Another hour passes before he finds himself at the ingress of Ashborn’s lair. His enigmatic teacher lived in almost complete obscurity. Devoid of any light, and enveloped by a suffocating aura, this nautical cavern intimidated all who dared to approach it. Well, almost all that is apart from Jin-woo. He effortlessly permeates the invisible barrier designed to keep intruders at bay and ventures into his master’s spiritual domain.

Despite being an ancient and powerful king of the sea, Ashborn made the strange decision to emulate a land-like environment in his personal chambers.

As Jin-woo manifests into the realm, his appearance gives way to a form more befitting of a land dweller. His tail separates into two legs, his scales smoothen into skin, and he loses the winged fins on his ears and back. Once finished with this metamorphosis, Jin-woo takes a deep breath. Fresh pine, grass, and flowers perfume the air as he’s greeted by a lush valley. It had been a while since he had visited, and the setting had required him to transform into a human. Interestingly, transfiguration was one of the first skills Ashborn taught him. Speaking of his mentor –

“My disciple, it is good to see you again, though you appear…troubled. Tell me, what ails you so?” A rumbling voice rings across the horizon, signaling Ashborn’s approach; the tenebrous essence of the powerful deity contrasting with the greenery of the land. He appears in front of Jin-woo as a great dark knight. Much like his surroundings, Ashborn’s current visage was nothing but an illusion. Even the bravest of warriors said that his lifelike image invoked sheer terror in their hearts.

Many speculate he possesses a massive stature, at least several leagues in height and breadth alone, with piercing eyes and endless tendrils of dark hair. Others claim he is the son of Poseidon, one of the twelve Olympians, and a God of destruction who presided over the sea. However, Jin-woo never once witnessed this side of his teacher in all the years he’s been under his mentorship. Ashborn certainly exuded dignity, but he still displayed a humble attitude. And without fail, he would always appear in that strange, armored suit whenever he was in Jin-woo’s presence.

“My teacher, I must ask for your help on an urgent matter,” Jin-woo starts, anxiously running his tongue across his bottom lip. “This morning, while I was scavenging, I stumbled across the unmistakable aroma of an unmarked omega. It…it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. As if I was being beckoned by someone or something. I wanted, no, I needed to heed its call.”

Ashborn listens in silence, his expression indiscernible. Jin-woo continued.

 “When I arrived, I was in front of a monstrosity of a ship – a yacht right by the sandbanks. At first, I assumed that someone had taken an unfortunate siren captive. But when I finally saw her–”

“You recognized she was human. Not only that, but she belongs to the lowest level of the hierarchy, an omega. Speak if I am wrong, my dear pupil.” Jin-woo lowers his head in shame, fringe obscuring his eyes. This action all but confirms it.

“I don’t know what to do or how to proceed, teacher. Everything I’ve learned about these creatures has made me detest them. But I can’t bring myself to hate her. How could this even be possible? We are not even of the same species. She’s my enemy, my prey…. At least, she’s supposed to be.” His voice lowers into a near whisper as he ends his confused rambling.

“And yet you don’t view her that way, do you child?” Ashborn poses a question he already knows the answer to but needs to hear in his pupil’s own words.

“No, I don’t,” Jin-woo replies grimly. “I yearn to know more about her. And not just that. I want to meet her, court her, and make her mine. If she’ll even have me, that is… So please, teacher, tell me if there is any meaning behind what I feel. Am I destined for something that bears no place in reality?”

Ashborn remains uncharacteristically quiet while faced with such a loaded question. All is eerily silent for a few moments, save for the cheerful chirping of the illusionary songbirds. At last, the monarch gazes at Jin-woo and gives him the answer he so desperately desires.

“It is entirely possible Sung Jin-woo, alpha of Jindo island, for I am proof of such a fantastical circumstance. My first and only love was also a human omega. A woman I devoted my entire being to over a millennium ago.”

Jin-woo’s eyes widened in shock at this revelation. His mentor had fallen in love at some point, and it was with a member of the human race? This was unheard of.

“I never knew you had a lover,” Jin-woo murmurs softly. “What was she like? Do you still remember everything about her after so many years?”

“Let me show you, my disciple. It is a tragic tale that words alone cannot properly convey.” With a wave of Ashborn’s hand, their surroundings began to morph and alter. The valley transforms into a spacious, yet quaint medieval village composed of several wooden houses with a bustling marketplace at its center.

When Jin-woo regains his bearings, he notices his mentor has also metamorphosized. A man with a sun kissed complexion, long dark hair, and a beard stands where he once stood. Though visibly unrecognizable, he was unmistakably Ashborn. A crimson cape was clasped to the pristine silver armor he wore. A paladin. Jin-woo recalls. He had some knowledge of the past lives of men through his rare excursions onto the Mainland. While disguised as a human, Jin-woo once traded in his goods for a textbook on history. He was loath to admit just how intriguing he had found it.

Ashborn speaks, his voice no longer resonating within the confines of shadowy steel.

“It was here in this village that I came across her. She was the only daughter of a peasant farmer. A strong-willed, rapscallion of a woman with a wit sharper than any blade. I can remember her beauty, her warmth, and her tenacity as clear and concise as the day we met.” He says with a wistful gaze. The scene then shifts to a woman in a pure white gown. Her eyes remained hidden, but it did nothing to impede upon her loveliness. The woman runs animatedly towards a man who looks identical to Ashborn’s borrowed likeness and leaps into his arms. The man then effortlessly spins her around before bringing her into a kiss. Jin-woo watches on, mesmerized by what was unfolding in front of him.

“I feared her rejection once she knew the truth of my identity,” Ashborn admits. “On the night we first made love, I finally revealed to her my status as ruler of the sea. However, it did not matter. She loved me wholly and unconditionally, regardless of who or what I was. Such was the strength of her resolve.” In the next instance, they return to the same valley from earlier. What differs this time is that the man and woman are there, unacknowledging of Jin-woo and Ashborn’s presence. Lost in their own special world. The woman has a flower crown on her head, and she sits on the grass, holding the man’s head in her lap. Both appear happy and at ease.

“For the first time in my existence, I experienced true contentment. I long to return to those days, but alas, our bliss did not last.”

Ashborn solemnly shuts his eyes as darkness overtakes the sky and rain falls. The man is now shown standing at a grave with an expression of anguish marring his face. The woman is nowhere to be seen, although Jin-woo knows exactly where she’s at.

“A plague was scourging the land and indiscriminately ending the lives of thousands. I tried to protect her with my magic, but it was to no avail. She fell gravely ill despite my best efforts. I discovered shortly thereafter that omegas were more susceptible to sickness than their contemporaries. If I had known beforehand, I would’ve brought her to the sea with me, away from that damned disease. But I was a fool who was willing to love and live with her as a man, not as a king. And as punishment for my hubris, an ailment snuffed out her life.”

At the end of his recollection, Ashborn’s lair returns to its original state. His mentor had also regained his shadowy exterior. The valley appears completely untouched by time, as if it were still one thousand years in the past. That’s why his lair looks like this. Jin-woo thinks as he finally recognizes its significance, It was their personal sanctuary. After a few moments of silence, Ashborn speaks.

“Although our circumstances are similar, you still have the privilege of choice. I cannot turn back time, nor can I change the past, but I am grateful. I experienced unspeakable grief, yes, but I also would have never encountered such love, tenderness, and passion had I not taken a chance on my omega. You, my disciple, still have free rein over your decision. Should you choose to pursue this woman, you have my blessing and irrefutable proof that she is a viable mate for you. If not, you will still receive my unwavering support in your future endeavors. The choice is yours to make.”

Jin-woo’s throat bobs. He feels an incredible sense of guilt at unearthing his master’s secret.

“My teacher, I apologize for prying into your past. I – I did not mean to bring up painful memories for you. I cannot imagine what you have endured. As of right now, I am not sure what it is I want, but I know for a fact I cannot give up on this human. I will need some time to contemplate and sort out my feelings. If you will excuse me.”

Jin-woo bows his head before turning to take his leave. As he approaches the exit, a sudden thought emerges at the forefront of his mind.

“Teacher, there is one more question I must ask. This human, she does not speak with words. She communicates with her hands and gestures. Is this some type of sorcery or spell that she’s casting?”

“It is most likely sign language, a manner of non-verbal communication used by humans who are unable to vocalize or hear. Perhaps she cannot speak, or has a hearing impairment, so she must express herself through other means.” Ashborn answers, curiosity lacing his voice.

Jin-woo feels his heart sinking. A siren’s serenade played a pivotal role in the mating ritual and was performed just prior to consummating an eternal bond. If what Ashborn said is true, then there is a possibility you could be immune to his song. This meant he wouldn't be able to use it on you when the time came…

He grits his teeth as he remembers your smiling face. Try as he might, Jin-woo just could not get you out of his head, nor was he willing to let you escape his grasp. You may not have realized it yet, but you had unknowingly sunk your fangs into him and the seeds of obsession were already beginning to take root. Rather than being discouraged by Ashborn’s observation, he instead finds himself reinvigorated.

“Teacher, disregard everything I said earlier. I now know what it is I must do.”

Ashborn peers into the eyes of his disciple, relieved by the determination that lights them. This was much more like the obstinate young man he knew.

“I choose to seek this omega and stake my claim, no matter what challenges may await the two of us,” Jin-woo proclaims proudly. “I will make her mine, but only if she consents to my proposal. And if not through song, then through other courtship methods. I am strong, stronger than any other alpha in my territory, and I know I can protect her from all who would wish her harm. I won’t let my mate slip through my fingers.”

“But what of maladies and the passage of time? You can fight against gods and monsters until the end of your days, but sickness or her ephemeral lifespan will not spare this young woman. In the end, your time with her shall be fleeting.” Ashborn ruthlessly counters Jin-woo’s declaration of protection.

Jin-woo bites his lip, not expecting this development. However, before he can muster a response, his mentor graces him with an answer.

“I know of one way you can overcome this. There is a recipe for an elixir known as the Holy Water of Life. It is a miraculous potion that can imbue invulnerability to communicable diseases, extend lifespan, and transform the consumer into a siren. I unfortunately did not have knowledge of such a panacea while I was with my love. Of course, I live with the regret of not discovering it sooner, as now I have no such use for it, but this does not mean I will idly stand by and let history repeat itself with my protégé.”

With a flash of light, an ancient scroll appears in front of Jin-woo. It unravels by itself to reveal its contents to him. Jin-woo’s eyes widen as he reads. Is this…?

“Behold. The ingredients for crafting the Holy Water of Life. I bequeath this boon unto you, my disciple. However, heed my warning as the acquisition of these components requires you to conquer all 100 floors of the Demon’s Castle and to defeat its king, Baran. This is a treacherous dungeon that may claim your life if you are unprepared for it, but it can also impart you with unspeakable power should you prevail.”

Jin-woo perks up at this information, his interest now fully piqued. “Tell me, master, where can I find the Demon’s Castle?”

“It hides far away, in the city of Seoul, within an incorporeal dominion. It is a flame-ridden landscape that will require you to assume the form of a human to enter the castle. Knowing all the risks it entails; do you still accept my offer?”

“I do,” Jinwoo confidently states.

“Very well,” Ashborn nods his assent, and a key materializes into Jin-woo’s palm.

“Use this key to open the gate to the Demon’s Castle. I have also implanted it with the coordinates to the dungeon’s location. You need only close your eyes and grasp onto the key to visualize it.”

Following the instructions, Jin-woo sees a map that details the exact distance from his current whereabouts to the metropolitan area of Seoul. It will be a lengthy trip, even with his impressive swimming prowess. He estimates it will take roughly half a day to arrive at his destination. Undeterred, Jin-woo presses onward.

“Teacher, I cannot thank you enough for all your help and guidance over these last few years. I give you my word; I will return alive and well, both with the elixir and Baran’s head. And then I will meet with the omega and court her in earnest.”

He departs without another word, although his promise relays an unspoken farewell between them. After some time passes, Ashborn stares at the vast skies of his domain and muses to himself.

“You have grown so much from when I rescued you from the Cartenon Temple all those years ago, Sung Jin-woo. I could not be prouder of you, my disciple. Till our next encounter.”

12 hours later...

Jin-woo finally emerges from the dark, briny waters that frame Seoul’s coastline.

After leaving Ashborn’s lair, he briefly returned home to pack and prepare for the journey ahead. Both Jin-ah and his mother were worried about his sudden departure, so he did the best he could to assuage their fears by giving them a sanitized version of the truth.

Jin-woo claimed Ashborn had provided him with a list of rare ingredients that were only available for purchase in the human markets at Seoul. He even promised to bring back a box of chocolates as a souvenir, something his mother and little sister had enjoyed during one of his return trips to the surface. He then traveled the full 413-kilometer distance from Jindo-gun to Seoul, stopping only for a few hours to rest and recuperate.

As he approaches land, he assumes the form of a naked human man and walks inland from the sea. However, Jin-woo comes to a halt when he becomes more aware of his current state of nudity. While it didn’t bother him, it would cause a lot of unnecessary trouble if any nosy beachgoers happened upon him and asked questions. It is also…pretty embarrassing to admit that he is…wobbly on these legs. Very much so.

He quickly summons his magical inventory and grabs a simple black t-shirt, boxers, fitted jeans, and athletic sneakers (‘Adidas’, the portly sales attendant had called them). As worthless as he found human decorum to be, Jin-woo needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible while he was in disguise. Once dressed, he strolled into the city. After 45 minutes, he found himself at the designated street junction on the map. Taking a deep breath, he brings forth the key, turns it, and unlocks the gate. 

⚓︎ To be continued...

[holylulusworld]

Let's hunt Nessie

Summary: You came for bones. Dean wants to go on a special hunt.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Warnings: fun, crack!fic

“Now that we have the dusty bones of good old Crowley, can we go sightseeing? I’ve never been to Scotland before.” You excitedly clap your hands, giddy to play tourist for one day. “Right, Sammy. You want to explore Scotland and its mysteries too.”

Sam nods. He found this old library, and he’d love to explore it some more. Dean insisted on getting Crowley’s bones as fast as possible and Sam didn't have much time to look at the books.

“We are going back to Lebanon. No detours.” Dean shakes his head. He’s done with Scotland, the left-hand traffic, and the piss (his words) they call beer. “I want beer, my baby, and to sleep for a fucking week after getting in an airplane twice!”

“But—” You pout and fake a sob. “I want to go and explore Scotland! Let’s visit Stonehenge, the National Museum of Scotland, and Loch Ness!” You count all the places you always want to visit in Scotland. “Maybe we'll see Nessie too!”

“Nessie?” Dean cocks a brow. He had heard that name before but forgot its origin. “What’s a Nessie?” The hunter puts Crowley’s bones in a pillowcase and huffs. “We don’t have time to try out a fancy ice cream or another cake monstrosity.”

“Dude,” you snort at Dean’s comment. “Did you never hear of the monster of Loch Ness before? It’s famous, Dean.”

Dean slowly turns his head to look at his brother. He furrows his brows, his mouth falling open.

“Sammy, why didn’t you tell me there’s a monster nearby? We are not on a vacation!” Dean walks toward the rented car, stopping in his tracks to curse. “Crap, we don’t have guns!”

“Dean!” You laugh when the hunter starts pacing back and forth. “DEAN!”

“Just a minute,” he says and raises his hand. “I have to find a weapon.” He turns back around and looks at Sam. “Wait! Sammy! Scotland has lots of castles, right?”

“Uh—sure.” Sam nods, unsure what his brother is up to. “Why are you asking?”

“Castles were protected by knights,” Dean hums to himself. “Knights had swords and battle axes.” His eyes grow wide, and he grins. “Oh! OH! Sonofabitch! They had ball and chain flails and morning stars too!”

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Dean.” Sam rubs his tired eyes. “We should head out. I don’t want to get caught with Crowley’s bones in our hands.”

“No, no, Sammy! We have to find a castle first and get all the weapons,” Dean stops his brother from turning his back on the battle Dean wants to fight. “After we got the weapons, we are ready to fight that monster.”

You gape at Dean. So far, you believed he tried to make fun of you or crack a joke. But he seems to be adamant about hunting Nessie down. “Dean, you can’t hunt Nessie!”

“Why not?” He cocks his head. “It’s a monster. We hunt monsters. Do not try to stop me only because we are not residents of Scotland.”

You snort. Sam chuckles.

“What’s so funny, Sammy? Did you lose your mojo on the flight? Don’t you want to hunt a monster? I could use a good fight.” Dean cracks his knuckles and looks your way. “What about you, Y/N?”

“Dean, I never say no to a hunt, but,” you snicker and hold your stomach. “No one knows for sure if Nessie exists. It’s a mythos, a legend. Nothing else. You can’t hunt an enemy that doesn’t exist for real.”

“And we won’t break into a castle to steal antique weapons,” Sam sternly says. He points his index finger at Dean to stop him from arguing. “Let’s leave Nessie and its legend alone. If it’s going to cause trouble, we can always come back.”

Dean sighs and pouts. All he wanted was to hunt a monster down.

“Well, if you’re up to it,” you say, “we can visit the Scotch Whiskey Experience in Edinburgh.”

Dean’s eyes light up. He licks his lips and slowly nods. “You’re going to buy me the most expensive whiskey if you forbid me to hunt Nessie.”

Tags in reblog.

[nymph-yoongi]

affection w/namjoon

Word count: 767

Namjoon is not the most affectionate person, often preferring to just exist in each other’s company

That being said, he does like it when you cling to him; you bring out his soft side

If you’re shorter than him, he’ll rest his chin on the top of your head

Although he’s not very into PDA, he does like to be able to either see you or touch you, happy to even just observe you while you do something 

The way he shows his love for you most often is by making time for you and showing you that you’re a priority to him 

Spare time is very rare and precious, so he makes sure to make time for you, even if it’s not easy

He enjoys taking care of you and feeling like you can depend on him to provide, but it also warms his heart when you do anything to provide for him as well (cooking for him, buying him gifts, etc.)

When he’s working, he tends to fixate on what he’s doing and forget to eat; when you bring him food or water or send him reminders to take care of himself, he feels grateful to have you in his life

He’s not afraid to admit his flaws, but it does bring him a special kind of peace when the two of you just lay in bed and talk about your own flaws with each other; to know he can be imperfect and still be loved is a healing thing to know 

Likes having intellectual discussions with you about philosophy, cosmology, and just anything that lets him see more into the inner workings of your mind 

He loves when you match his energy, whether he’s being goofy and dancing around like a maniac, or if he’s in a more spiritual and thoughtful mood; it makes him feel like you understand him in a way few others do

Likes coming up with places to go with you and events/activities you can experience together

Prefers shared experiences to buying you physical gifts

Has a hard time being very cutesy, he almost always gets shy and covers his face, especially if he does aegyo 

Despite his shyness, he enjoys it when you compliment him; especially if you call him handsome and/or smart

He used to be insecure about his nose, so he still gets a little shy if you kiss him on the nose

Has a tendency to wrap himself around you when you’re sleeping together 

Can’t and won’t stop taking pictures of you

Even though he can’t post them, his gallery on his phone is mostly photos of you, whether you’re at a museum, in nature somewhere, or just looking cute while asleep

He loves doing little photoshoots of you and showing you off to the people that know about you

Since he takes so many photos of you, it makes him happy when you take nice pictures of him too

It makes him happy knowing that you feel the same urge to show him off, that he feels about you

It’s pretty common for you to either be on an adventure together or just staying inside with good books

He leaves you little notations in the books he’s already read because you once said it makes you feel like he’s reading it with you

Takes pictures of the scenery around him whenever you’re apart; plants, pretty rocks, crab, you name it, he’s sent you a picture of it 

“I didn’t want to bother the bugs under this rock but look how pretty it is!”

If he ever has to travel without you, he sends you the prettiest postcards he can find with the cheesiest messages on them 

“It’s raining here today; even the sky is sad you’re not with me”

Draws little Koyas on his letters and postcards to you

If he knows he’ll be gone from you for a long time, he’ll leave letters for you to read when you miss him 

Writes short poems for you when he’s feeling sentimental and will leave them on sticky notes and index cards for you to find

Writes snippets of songs about different mythos of soulmates when he thinks about you 

Tells you about the myth of humans being created; how we were all made with four arms, four legs, and two heads, then cursed to spend our lives wandering in search of our other half 

“Despite the distance, I feel at peace knowing that I’ve found my other half; I don’t feel the need to search for anything anymore. I found what I need”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

[antirepurp]

Question: what unfiction series do you recommend?

ohhhh this is a tough one for a number of reasons, including me having been busy lately so im not sure exactly what's new and interesting at the moment. that said...

i've been thinking about petscop again and how it plays with old creepypasta tropes and elements in its presentation, how it presents you with a game you have and will never play, and still evokes a kind of nostalgia within you and gives you an understanding of what is and isn't normal within its context. it isn't for everyone, in the sense that you'll never have a clear picture of the story and are forced to interpret things yourself, but for me that is just. mint shit. i love not knowing what happens in petscop but also knowing exactly what happens in petscop it's great

i also mentioned valle verde recently. similar to petscop it's a game you'll never play, but it goes extremely hard on its presentation and i just have to applaud it for that. there are animated 2d cutscenes for the opening of the game that the player skips, because they've seen them so many times. there are fake games within the fake game. there's a tremendous amount of love and effort that has been put into this series and that alone makes me run up the walls about it. the story has also been interesting to follow and it knows when to get into the scares, instead of throwing jump scares or something at you constantly. each video has english subs but they're also available in spanish. pretty sure it's spanish and not portugese. im going to be real embarrassed if i say it's spanish but it was actually portugese

monument mythos is also a classic! and tends to live in my brain rent-free whenever i revisit it. especially the early seasons fall more into line with analogue horror if that's a style you enjoy. it's alternative american history with supernatural elements and it strikes the part of me that enjoys history despite the fact my understanding of american history is shallow at best. monuments are haunted and there's goofy trees that do fun things it's great

and there's sagan hawkes video on a creepy dinosaur game! i adored this one when i watched it, again a lot of effort has been put into it for the sake of the presentation and watching it without knowing it's unfiction is wild because it feels so fucking real even right up until the end. i long for a dinosaur game that doesn't exist. i long for many games that don't exist it turns out

also some rapid fire takes im also picking up from the top of my head: minecraft alpha 1.0.16 versions (mc unfiction that's still on-going i believe, there's ARG elements so an analysis video could be worth watching alongside it), diminish (another game that doesn't exist made by the player's dead sister, beware though the game is hard and the player is bad and the videos tend to be Long), myhouse.wad (linking a video exploring it since it's a doom mod, but there's a link to it in the description if you'd like to try it for yourself!), angel hare (lovingly animated christian children's show! but oops that angel is your guardian angel and is talking to you, specifically)

i would also recommend checking out night mind on youtube, he covers a lot of unfiction projects to bring more attention to them and many of them are ones that are quite new as well! he also runs the night mind index, a site with information on what unfiction is but more importantly it has a huge list of all sorts of unfiction projects that people have submitted to it that you can check out!

(i did make some unfiction myself too here on tumblr, i don't think that counts as a true recommendation lol but if you're curious the blog is mallardmonster and the first post is here!)

[thefiresontheheight]

1. The Roud Folk Song Index lists it as the 39th Child Ballad. Comparisons to be made to Type 425 in the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index, under the entry “The Search for the Lost Husband.” TvTropes.com has more to say on the page titled “Shapeshifting Lover.” A story iterated upon in many forms. A young woman, almost always a woman, sometimes virginal, is wedded, or falls in love with, or is taken away by a man under some sort of curse. He is horse. Or a lindworm. Or a wolf. Sometimes only at night. Sometimes only when the fairies who cursed him make him so. He is a Beast, she must undo whatever evil makes him so, normally through a kiss, true love, wedding him, or, in some of the less sanitized versions, simply sex. 1. The first time they hooked up he cried afterwords, which she didn’t understand at the time. They were sophomores in college. It wasn’t her first time. It should have been casual. It was up until he cried in the morning. She felt so bad that she suggested they get breakfast together, when she had simply meant to leave. At breakfast he calmed, he talked about his life. Quiet, nerdy, hiding in his hoodie. There was something vulnerable there, and she liked it. She gave him her number after. 2. Later thinkers and writers have revisited this trope. Sometimes it is played straight, depicted on the screen by Disney. Sometimes this is (falsely I would argue) called Stockholm Syndrome. Sometimes this is, it must be said, simply used for purposes of sex and titillation. I think, however, that the continued persistence of this motif in media, it’s emotional resonance, demands further explication of its longevity. What about this appeals to us in the modern day, when we (ideally) can no longer ascribe to it a moral of young women being forced to accept arranged marriages? 2. They’re a few months into their time dating, after long arguments about that label, when the crying returns. This time no longer after sex, but she feels the emotion is the same. You should leave me, he says. Break up. You should do it now before I hurt you, he says. And she, not wanting to point out that she is bigger and stronger than he is, gently asks why he says something like that? In there time together he has been nothing if not careful. Thoughtful. Kind. One of the most soft and charming people she knows. He cannot explain it in any satisfying way. He simply insists that there is something dark inside him. Something he has sought to deny far too long, and will not be able to deny forever. That if she stays she will be hurt, simply as a function of loving him. He will one day lose the fight against himself. She does not know what to do but hold him. 3. I think some of the appeal of this trope can be found in reference to another motif of our pop cultural mythos. That of the werewolf. We are used to seeing werewolves depicted from the viewpoint of the hunted. But there is perpetually the question of what such a transformation looks like from the viewpoint of the animal itself. A human transforming into a beast demands of a human audience that we consider what it must be like to monster. To be capable of hurting those we love. And yet, I at least wonder, if we are capable of hurting those loved ones, do we not still hope that they will love us as we transform? As we become different, monstrous in shape and utterly unknown even to them? 3. They graduate. Together. Move into an apartment above a Taiwanese restaurant. She gets a shitty job that has health insurance for them both. He does commission from home. It’s not perfect. There is some part of him he never shares and she does her best to make peace with that. To accept that wherever his mind goes when he is watching her put on a dress, do her make up, whatever he ponders while watching the women passing by the street outside, or after they have sex, that is something he has chosen not to share. But instead they share popcorn. And bills. And shitty inside jokes. And that time they got accidentally drunk at his mothers remarriage to Craig (fucking Craig amiright?) and got found by the staff of the hotel whose ballroom she had rented, having passed out near the punch bowl. It’s a life. It’s their life. She tries to give him space within it. 4. Consider again the Ballad of Tam Lin. The idea of Janet in the woods, holding onto her lover as wicked fairies transform him. To something ice cold. To something burning hot. To a horrible slimed thing writhing in her embrace. To a snarling wolf-monster, a beast of wicked claws and gnashing teeth. Who has, at one time or another, when circumstances reveal that which we keep hidden, felt like that? 4. She gets home unexpectedly early one spring afternoon in her late twenties. Janet from accounting somehow set fire to a microwave, which set off the sprinklers, and no one could get anything done that day. A small treat, and it validates her admittedly flash-judgment of Janet. And as she unlocks the door, flowers in hand, she finds him in front of the closet they share, and understands the secret that has been kept from her for almost a decade. 5. And then of course, the tales and legends end. Normally in the curse being lifted, the lover being returned to normal. Beast is a beast no more, the Lindworm is again a prince, Tam Lin may leave the woods a man. A simple ending to a simple story. But for us living in reality? Outside of the tidy constraints of fiction? Perhaps there is no ending. Perhaps we remain a beast, remain a wolf, remain cursed, and monstrous and strange. Perhaps we endlessly transform into new, and more twisted shapes, and have only hope that our loves will hold us nonetheless. That even if we become something that may hurt them, something they may not understand, they will still love us. 5. It is hard. It would be nice to say there are not challenges. She always thought she was bi, but the label of straight was easy, and she never had to examine it when she was with him. She keeps on stealing her dresses. There are good times too. Times where she looks at this woman still becoming, someone she had loved for a decade and still barely knows, and sees how brightly she smiles, and feels so proud. But it is above all else hard. The crying does not go away. Estrogen works wonders, but cannot stop dysphoria, and hurt, and pain. It is hard to love her. But she is trying. And when the fights over labels and new boundaries and shifting emotions break out, or the dread comes, or the weeping, she does what she can. She holds her partner, no matter the form she takes.

[mythosofshadow]

Mythos Of Shadow: Prologue Index Below:

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CHAPTER 1: ???

[wr1t3w1tm3]

This Book has no Title

Okay. So, I had to rewrite basically the last 2/3rds of this due to word being a be-ache but I think I like it more. I'm just going for old-timey enough dialogue (time period is like late 17-augths into the early 1720's), and a full of it female protagonist who is on the forefront of the day's scientific community. This is so gonna get rewritten which is why I'm sharing this online without much fear of AI scraping so...

Without further adue...

I hope you enjoy.

“Have you, Charlotte Rafferty, anything to declare?”

              Had she anything to declare? Of course! The dark, dank cell, chilled despite the blazing Caribbean heat?! The stench which permeated every crack and cranny of the place!?! It is madness!! She could declare how all of it was hell. Yet, this man, a minister of some faith, head of some local church, would take only one answer. An answer she is unwilling to give.

              “Nothing of import,” she retorts.

              The minister scowls and steps forward. His gray-white hair, curled at the shoulder, bounces against his shoulders. “Woman, do you not fear for your eternal life?”

              She smiles and crosses her arms, stepping up to the bars. She is disheveled, her teal dress dulled by dirt and her skin darkened by the same stuff. “Why should I fear something I do not believe in?”

              The cleric stops. For a second, he is silent. Then suddenly, he is upon her, grabbing the bars just as she had. He is seething, his hair shaking “Woman, if you do not believe in it, why do you bring yourself to mock it?”

              “For its silliness of course!” she sets her hand upon her hips. “This god you claim to know so much about is only known by things your mythos claims are his effects. Yet this god is not at all observable by any empirical means…”

              “And this proves what!?!” the reverend snaps. The bars rattle under his grasp, “Does not some invisible force hold us all upon this earth? Is this not observable only by its effects? Does that make this force any less real?!”

              “You forget that gravity has been proven through the scientific method! The effects of this god are chronicled in a book of inconsistent morals and tone that cannot…!!!”

              “Woman, listen to me!” The reverend screeches.

              For a moment, all is silent. Then, with a sudden calm, the reverend whispers “For your own good, would you not risk believing in something that would win you eternal paradise, then remain steadfast in your pride and risk being thrown into the fires of eternal torment?”

              Charolette cocks her head, slightly to the left, and rests her right thumb and index finger against her chin. Her lips purse, then flatten. Finally, she steps forward and grabs the bars. The reverend lets go, suddenly very interested in his death white knuckles.

              “The man who concocted your foolish wager was equally such. A theologian faffing about in philosopher’s robes.” The reverends face hardens as she continues, “There is nothing after this, sir. And in the condition I’m in, I think I’ll be quiet pleased to fall into that nothingness.”

              For a moment, it appears that there are tears in his eyes. For a moment, his lip trembles. For a moment, he stands perfectly still, except the glint along the corner of his eye.

              Then the moment is over, and the reverend straightens his coat. “Well then, make your peace.” He takes a step, pauses, and turns back to the cell “I will be at the gallows tomorrow should your persuasions change.”

              “I doubt it.” She calls after him. The reverend rounds the corner and the hollow sounding of his shoes against the cold, stone floor fade into silence. One of the other inmates’ chuckles at the predicament, but it is otherwise quiet. Charlotte see’s herself over to the corner, where she has created what some may call a nest in the infested hay, and lowers herself into it.

[the-antiapocalyptic-man]

is the green arrow’s curse a literal magical curse or like a burden ollie has to carry? also the whiplash I got from seeing Ollie doing cool bow things to having a stand slays me

Literal yes, magical no. It's connected to the Lantern mythos and Green-Yellow (or in this case, Gold) rivalry, represented on a civilization-wide level by the Xeen vs the Majistry. It's...mostly a fun other take, most of Ollie's career before he dies in pretty grounded other than Justice League adventures and Invaders from Earth-X holed up in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest trying to take Star City for its "High Stellarization Index" (per Amos Fortune)

[drkatz]

Zine Ideas

Weirdness index

Mythos Exploration

Tales from the Forest of All Knowledge

Excerpts from books i'll never write

Characters That Need To Be In Smash

Reasons to hate The Mouse

Limewire Memories

Old memes from my youth

[owlbear33]

the Labyrinth Index was a fun if surreal romp, much better on the second read

I swear it's like 30% a joke about conservatives getting stuck on the word "Woke", Dread Cthulhu, lord of sleep indeed

Mhari as protag was interesting, I'm not sure I buy the romance, but that's possibly because I find Officer Friendly singularly unfuckable, I get that your love life is a bit of a train wreck Mhari but surely you can do better

but no she's fun workaholic imposter syndrome, with more than a touch of vampire-fueled self-hatred, cruising towards burnout, but only if the god she works for doesn't kill her first

Jon aka Yarisol is 100% the best character, I love her so much, so so much, she's great

yeah I'm not sure I have any more to say right now, it was good

and alas I have no more of these to read, I'll have to pick up the new management books, or return to Yokai Island at some point, never mind that one about the laundry trying to sacrifice the queen, that's not out yet, but I'm not sure when

I'll have to find something else to read in the meantime, I'm not sure what, I don't have any other more modern Lovecraft mythos stuff

[thedurvin]

Check it out, a full text of Richard Shaver and Ray Palmer's "I Remember Lemuria!", the seminal document of the Shaver Mystery. This was a major thing in mid-century nerd culture where in 1945 the prominent sci-fi magazine Amazing Stories started printing stories by a conspiracy theorist that he and the editor claimed were completely true, stories about secret ancient languages, evil subterranean dwarves using flying saucers to kidnap people for meat, and horny giant women with extra arms and heads. It fell out of interest once conspiracy theorists and gullible weirdos started focusing on aliens, but it held on long enough for the guys making D&D's Monster Manual II to base the Derros on Shaver's Deros (short for Detrimental Robots, not actual robots, just dwarves so sadistic they had no emotions), and I'm kinda surprised it never got merged into the Cthulhu Mythos in popular culture.

[bubbleteycosplay]

What if Sigyn's stories

Part 24

So many different universes, so many different possibilities. And in some loves Sigyn and their different stories. Pictures and brief information have been written about some of these possibilities.But what is her full story, we don't know. But we can spin them further in our thoughts ^^

The whole project here serves to show the possibilities and potential that Sigyn would have had within the Marvel Universe. How she could have been reintroduced, her story made new and more exciting. #JusticeForSigyn stands for creating Sigyn content because Marvel doesn't give us any.

Inspired by @fauna-and-mythos @dailylogyn @dank-art @jonquilclegane @sigynthevictorious @thewitchysystem @shenanigans-and-imagines @sigynoffidelity @timeladyjamie @therese-lokidottir @puckwritesstuff @sigynappreciation @sigyn-obsessed @ellecaterina @roruna @sigyndottir @marvelentertainment @mistress-of-words

Queen of destiny

After the blood magic has destroyed Sigyn's entire life, she too sits on the throne as Queen of Vanaheim while Jotunheim declares war on her. She is determined to save her people and stop Jotunheim from taking the cities of Atlantia and Solis. But the fight against Jotunheim is just the beginning: Ancient powers have awakened in the shadows, bringing with them the horrors of times long past. Now the hour has come when Sigyn must accept her destiny and fulfill the prophecy. And she has to use her blood magic, but with that her secret is no longer safe either.

The witch's curse story by @roruna

Sigyn sat alone in her chambers. She hadn't left in days. At first, she was despondent, racking her brain for a way to get him back. But the sadness gradually reshaped itself into rage. Now she daydreamed of revenge, to get him back.

She arranged candles in a circle on her floor and sat down in the center of the circle. All the candles lit themselves at once by magic. Her heart was pounding hard and her whole body was shaking. Fresh tears grew in her eyes. She wiped them away with her index finger.

"Essence of fire, burn his skin and melt his form. Essence of air, spin him round so he loses his way, abandon him when he needs to breathe. Essence of earth, break his bones, bury him deep. Essence of water, become his tears," she said, writing the name on the floor with her wet finger.

Loki.

It wasn't a proper curse. Freya, the Vanir goddess of magic and Sigyn's mother, had taught her dozens of spells and curses. This wasn't in any of the spell books she'd read. The candles were just ordinary wax things with essential oils added so they'd fill the room with a pleasant fragrance when they burned. The air smelled of roses, vanilla, lavender and honeysuckle.

She didn't draw any runes. She didn't use any of her reserves of magic energy. She didn't even use any seidr to make his name glow dramatically on the floor. But she was crying when she lit the candles. She was crying as she spoke the words. And she was crying as she wrote his name in the circle with her tears. Intent and focus are what's important when casting spells.

Her body felt drained when put the candles out and stepped out of the circle. She wiped her face and she dropped into a dreamless sleep when her head touched the pillow. Just outside her chambers, servants were bustling about preparing Asgard's palace for Thor's coronation.

The child of a thousand wonders

Sigyn returns to Asgard from Nidavellir. She is to study and live in a school for magic until her mother returns from Feuerrisen Krigen and has clarified all matters there. Meanwhile, Sara's father dies under tragic circumstances.

He dies and leaves behind her, her sisters and mother. Sigyn only survives the difficult times because she has so much imagination and imagines what it will be like when her life is back on track. What she doesn't know is that she has an unknown friend who will help her and stand by her to make her happy again.

Sigyn goddess of forbidden love by @jonquilclegane

Once upon a time in the realm of Asgard, Sigyn was not just an ordinary maiden, but a valiant Valkyrie. She possessed grace, strength, and a heart filled with compassion. Sigyn had dedicated her life to the honorable duty of guiding fallen warriors to their rightful place in Valhalla.

However, fate had a different plan for Sigyn. Unbeknownst to her fellow Valkyries, she had fallen deeply in love with Loki, the mischievous god of trickery. Their hearts intertwined in secrecy, for such love was forbidden, as Loki's actions had often caused chaos and strife among the realms.

Sigyn's love for Loki was a bittersweet torment, for she was torn between her devotion to her duty as a Valkyrie and the longing in her heart. She would watch him from a distance, her heart aching, as he played his tricks and schemes, always keeping her true feelings hidden away.

One day, as Sigyn ventured through the realms, she came across a group of fallen warriors who had perished in a battle. Her duty compelled her to gather them and lead them to Valhalla. As she approached the fallen, she noticed among them a wounded warrior, his armor tarnished and his spirit weakened. To her surprise, it was Loki himself, wounded and vulnerable.

The conflict within Sigyn reached its zenith. Her love for Loki and her duty as a Valkyrie clashed with equal force. Her fellow Valkyries watched as she stood there, torn between her heart's desire and her responsibility.

In that moment, Sigyn made a decision that would change her fate and the fate of Loki forever. She dropped her spear, a symbol of her duty, and knelt beside Loki. She cradled his battered form in her arms, ignoring the gasps of her fellow Valkyries. With each touch, her love for him grew stronger, and a wave of compassion washed over her.

Sigyn looked into Loki's weary eyes and spoke words that resonated with love and determination. "No longer will I deny my heart, Loki. I am ready to face the consequences of our forbidden love. For love knows no boundaries and can transform even the most mischievous soul."

As the Valkyries watched in astonishment, Sigyn, the Valkyrie who had forsaken her duty, rose with Loki in her arms and vanished into the unknown. The realm of Asgard fell into a state of bewilderment, for a Valkyrie had chosen love over her sacred oath.

In the realms beyond, Sigyn and Loki created a life of their own, where their love blossomed, unfettered by the laws of the gods. Their journey was not without challenges, but together they faced them with unwavering devotion.

Though Sigyn had forsaken her position as a Valkyrie, her heart remained filled with compassion. She used her newfound freedom to bring solace to those in need, offering aid and redemption to lost souls who had strayed from the path of righteousness.

The gods of Asgard, witnessing the purity and strength of Sigyn's love, reconsidered their judgments. Slowly, they began to understand that love could heal even the most broken of spirits. The forbidden love between Sigyn and Loki became a tale whispered among the gods, a reminder that the power of love could transcend all boundaries.

And so, Sigyn, once a Valkyrie bound by duty, became a symbol of love's triumph over adversity. Her story would echo through the ages, inspiring others to follow their hearts, even in the face of the greatest challenges.

Don't forget love

Young Loki, an adopted son of Odin, of unknown origin and the highest magic in Asgard, receives a dangerous assignment: he and his brother Thor are to free prisoners of war from captivity on Midgard in Garda. While fleeing, he falls in love with the women of Sigyn the freed, but she is already married. Nevertheless, over the years he becomes the confidant of the young woman and wins victories over victories with Tho. And the blemish of his birth is finally revealed. Whereupon Loki leaves Asgard. But Sigyn has to realize with horror that her most dangerous enemy is far from defeated, and when she and her husband leave for Asgard for Thor's coronation, both are attacked and her husband is murdered, but that's not all, this fate will have fruitful consequences...

All good and bad things come in threes

There are days that turn your entire life upside down. Do you know days like that? Even those days when you lose your job in the morning and own a magical bookshop in Ireland at night?

No?

Well, I didn't know that either.

What I learned today:

1. I am not a human, I am a goddess and no one knows what else I am.

2.I have magic, but I have no idea how it works.

3.I'm in danger, have a husband I never knew about and only the bookshop in Ireland can protect me.

This is Rose's (Sigyn) new life and this Odinson who's supposed to be her husband doesn't make it any easier for her either.

TVA File 775

The TVA is in a state of emergency and a group of Agents and Hunters are tasked with reopening an old case, TVA File 775 codenamed "Ferguson". You set to work with mixed feelings and even return to the scene of the action, the island whose rugged beauty still amazes you, but where Hunter S-16 spent a difficult childhood. Which she doesn't remember, she doesn't remember her life before the TVA at all. And the game begins and nobody's life is safe anymore!

The broken promise

Loki: You give every one of your belongings to even the lowest scum or upstart

Sigyn: Everyone should be heard and understood

Loki: Understood, these are Sigyn low beings. They should not be understood but mastered

Sigyn: That's exactly why many fear you, because the way you think about them makes you unpredictable

Loki: You're talking about everyone should have a say

Sigyn: What's so bad about showing them is so bad about showing them respect for your opinions and ideas?

Loki: Enough of this discussion, you are my wife and you have to stand behind me in the first place behind all my decisions!

Sigyn: I stand behind you, but I'm not your puppet

The girl at the end of time by @jonquilclegane

In the wake of Ragnarok, the cataclysmic event that brought an end to the known universe, Sigyn found herself standing alone amidst the vast emptiness of the void. As the girl at the end of time, she witnessed the devastation that had consumed everything she had ever known. Her heart was heavy with grief and the weight of her solitude.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and Sigyn wandered through the desolate remains, searching for signs of life. But the universe seemed devoid of hope, with no trace of any other survivors. She felt the weight of the loss, mourning the fallen gods and mortals who had once inhabited the vibrant realms.

As Sigyn reached the point of despair, contemplating her existence as the solitary being at the edge of nothingness, a glimmer of light caught her attention. In the darkest corner of the void, she discovered a group of individuals huddled together, clinging to the remnants of their shattered existence.

Hope ignited within Sigyn's heart as she approached the survivors. They were a diverse group, representing different species and civilizations from across the cosmos. Their eyes held a mix of relief, wonder, and exhaustion as they saw Sigyn, the girl who had emerged unscathed from the ruins of Ragnarok.

Among the survivors, Sigyn discovered a wise elder who held the knowledge of an ancient prophecy—one that spoke of a way to restart the universe, a chance to restore life and begin anew. Though the task seemed daunting, Sigyn knew that she had been chosen for a purpose beyond her comprehension.

Gathering the remaining survivors, Sigyn shared the prophecy with them, filling their hearts with renewed hope. Together, they embarked on a perilous journey, traversing the remnants of the shattered cosmos, seeking the pieces required to restart creation.

Through trials and tribulations, the group faced countless obstacles, but their determination was unwavering. Sigyn's love for the fallen gods and mortals fueled her resolve, and she became a guiding light for the survivors, encouraging them to press onward.

At the culmination of their quest, they assembled the shattered fragments, a mosaic of cosmic energy. Sigyn stepped forward, the catalyst of their endeavor, and with a single touch, she ignited the dormant energy, sending ripples of life through the void.

A burst of vibrant light enveloped the cosmos, spreading like a celestial wave, awakening the slumbering universe from its lifeless state. Stars ignited, galaxies spiraled into motion, and planets began to form. Life bloomed once more, breathing fresh energy into the tapestry of existence.

The survivors, awestruck and filled with gratitude, witnessed the rebirth of a universe they had believed lost forever. They celebrated their triumph, vowing to honor the fallen by cherishing the newfound life granted to them.

Sigyn, once the girl at the end of time, had become the harbinger of renewal. With her unwavering love and the strength of the survivors by her side, she had rewritten destiny, restoring hope and the promise of a brighter future.

Together, they set forth to build a universe where love, compassion, and harmony thrived. And as they shaped their new reality, the echoes of the fallen reverberated within their hearts, a reminder of the resilience of life and the enduring power of unity.

A relative conquest (AU)

The free-spirited Sigyn is on fire. Finally women are admitted to the university, she could study! Her parents, on the other hand, want to marry her off to young Theoric. Theoric loves the world of fragrances. He experiments with flavors and scents. He dreams of making perfumes in his own factory. Sigyn is enthusiastic and supports him against all odds. Energetically and skilfully she drives the founding of the company forward. But what about their own goals? Are her feelings strong enough for marriage? Because there's Loki, Theoric's friend. He threatens to drive a wedge between the couple. And that too, because if there's one thing Loki doesn't need in his life at all, it's a second wife.

Part 25 is in progress ^^

Here you can find the last part

[astramthetaprime]

The Story Tarot

Okay so I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and in an effort to escape my current life situation this seems like a good night to do this and not think about the impending doom for a couple hours.  So here goes.

In accordance with the Standard Rules for Science-Fiction Writing, when asked ‘where do you get your ideas’, the Standard Answer is ‘a post office box in Poughkeepsie”.  This Standard Answer was used even by Isaac Asimov himself.  I have, on occasion, used it myself.  But now I will share with you what method I actually use.  

This method can be done without needing to use cards, you could do this simply by listing the various items on a numbered list and either using a random number generator online or using dice to determine which items to use.  I have found actual cards to be helpful in that one can lay them out, move them around, and have them all laid out in relation to each other.  It’s more tangible, y’know?  

You will need:  

A deck of blank cards of some type.  Index cards can be used, but you can also find blank playing cards on Amazon.  

A Sharpie.  

A box or other container to keep them in.

A scratchpad and pen.

For Science-Fiction, you will also need this website, Speculative Fiction Tropes

(There’s also other trope lists on the Genre Tropes section of the same website if you’re wanting romance, adventure, etc.)

I started out with these tropes but later removed a lot of them from my deck and replaced them with other things such as “gray goo”, “alien abduction”, “wandering planet” and other more scientifically based things.  You can add elements from other genres -- romance tropes, ancient history tropes, horror tropes, whatever suits your fancy.

Break out your cards and your Sharpie and start writing the tropes one per card.

Once done, gather them up, shuffle several times, and start dealing out cards.  My usual method here is to deal out 5 cards, then spread them out and sit with them to see if anything sparks interest.  If a card or two just doesn’t work for you, deal two more and put the first two back in the deck.  Keep doing this, thinking and dealing out cards, moving them around to relate them one to each other.  You might start with 3 cards or 10, or any number that seems good to you.  What you’re looking for here is ideas, not sticking to a method.  Does anything stand out that you feel needs to be the centerpiece of a plot?  Are any of them something the antagonist might use as a weapon, or as their secret weakness, or as the one thing that scares the protagonist beyond all reason?  

Whatever you find in the cards, write down your final card list and notes on your ideas on your trusty scratchpad.  You can either set it aside in an “ideas” file or use it straightaway, either way you’ve got it salted away for future use.

As stated above, if you don’t have the means to get blank playing cards or blank index cards, you can always just do them as a numbered list and either use dice or a random number generator to choose your prospective idea chunks.  Maybe write them on post-it notes so you can move them around as you would with cards, or just copy them into a text file and move around as and when needed. 

Anyway, that’s the Story Tarot.  It can be as elaborate or as simple as you want.  I’m still using a subset of my original hand-written cards, I narrowed mine down to a deck that’s only slightly more than a standard deck of playing cards.  But I can add new cards at any time since I still have two or three sets of blank cards in reserve.  The deck I have now includes astronomical phenomena, futurist concepts, space technologies, cyberpunk tropes, and character actions.  But you can do a deck with Wild West, Age of Sail, Cthulhu Mythos and Indian Mythology if that’s the stuff that you want to write.  The Tarot is infinitely adaptable and can change with your tastes and interests.  

Have fun!  Let me know if you find this useful!  And thanks for listening!

[secondflame-archive]

There would be a soft 'caw' and a 'cluck' that would come from the window. One of the crows that had been circling Mythos perches on a sill. Huginn, ever the curious one, would tilt is head at Clive, ruffling its feathers. (time for some head scratches uvu)

A flutter of wings followed by a soft if slightly roughened bird call catches his attention. Clive raises his head, wincing as his neck and shoulders feels stiff from having sat hunched over some letters for the past hour or so.

"It's you again." Clive says quietly and then chuckles when the bird hops off the windowsill and onto his desk nigh immediately upon being acknowledged. He watches it make its way closer to him with little jumps, knowing that it is perfectly capable of walking, but rather chooses to show its joy in this way.

The ravens' presence has become somewhat of a usual thing these past weeks. It is usually the same one approaching him, though, and by now it dares to stray closer and even let him touch it on occasion instead of just lingering on the windowsill as it did in the beginning.

Jill and Joshua wisely cautioned him against letting any of the birds inside, even went as far as suggesting he keep the windows closed entirely ever since they learned the ravens that sometimes followed them were affiliated with the king of Waloed.

Clive knows they are right of course, and yet he still finds himself smiling at the bird as it curiously blinks up at him from the table, softly cawing at him. Affiliations set aside, it is a bird; a little eerie looking at times with the bright pupilless blue of its eyes, but then strictly speaking so are the Stolas and he never feared them either.

He does still shift the letters aside, turning them over as the bird has no business glimpsing any of the contents, no matter how harmless he thinks it. He isn't sure of how exactly the ravens are connected to Barnabas or Odin, if it is thought or spoken word they can convey to him, but Clive won't make it easy for it to tell its master anything of value in any case.

"So, what are you here for?" He asks. "I don't have any food for you this time."

Yes, maybe he has gotten into the habit of feeding the bird whenever it shows up, but only because he felt weird being watched one evening while having supper on his own and giving it a bit of bread and a few nuts had kept it preoccupied long enough for him to finish in peace.

But it seems it doesn't matter that he is all out of snacks this time, for when he reaches out a hand the bird inches closer and he only has to crook his finger to gently scratch its little head, feathers soft under his ungloved fingertip.

"Just some affection then?" He carefully keeps the touches up while saying so, moving his index finger below the beak and along its neck until eventually bringing the scratches back around and down the raven's back, watching in amusement as it fluffs its feathers up further. "I suppose your master can't provide you with many gentle touches when he's always sending you after me, huh?"

He huffs out a laugh when the bird shifts closer, chasing his hand as he starts to pull away. "Fine then, I can spare a few minutes."