#support: odin

[princepsumbra]

"SHHHH! 'lo, milord! as much as your presence charges the very essence of my undying soul, i must ask for immediate silence!" hushed whispers (yes, whispers) float across the room to greet him, and with a proud flick of the wrist, odin points out his latest project — one that appears to be an unassuming wooden chest at first glance. "you see, lord leo, this new spell i've crafted demands it. so, please. i must ask you to keep your voice down. you make take a seat over there."

he waits for the prince to settle in. then, with a wide grin, odin struts toward the chest. he places one foot atop it in a dramatic display of theatrics, and announces:

"on this fated day, we celebrate the hallowed hour of thy momentous birth, o'bearer of greatness! you, whose valor and wisdom carves the very fabric of our world! it is only right, then, that you are bestowed with a legendary gift, worthy of your most illustrious pursuits-!"

the chest's lid swings open with a loud bang! (oops). within, a monstrous plant unfurls, its verdant tendrils writhing and snapping like serpents disturbed from slumber. one tendril nearly smacks odin across the chest, eliciting a mumbled curse as he dodges the strike. "not to worry, milord! it's friendly," the mage reassures, approaching cautiously. he extends a hand in demonstration, gently stroking one of the plant's giant petals. gradually, its growls subside into gentle purrs, seeming to relax under his touch akin to a tamed beast.

the plant, now calm, sways gently, its colorful foliage shimmering under the faint light filtering through room. "it only hates loud noises. i learned the hard way."

...he shall not elaborate.

When it comes to Odin, Leo takes nothing at face value. It may sound cruel, but it's a hard-learned truth, one Leo will not easily forget. There's a motive behind every flashy move and dramatic turn of phrase.

So when both trunk and retainer appear, Leo nods his acquiescence for total silence. (The whispers are a nice touch, admittedly.) "That's the second time today I've been ordered to sit somewhere," he murmurs, claiming the aforementioned chair.

Prince folds his hands neatly in his lap. Ah, there are the theatrics. It's truly a nice speech; he doesn't expect anything less than the heartfelt exaggerations. 'O'bearer of greatness' could work as an alternate epithet should he ever desire a change.

Leo's out of his chair before the first tendril finishes unfurling. Immediately, he raises a hand, incantation on his lips in preparation to defend his retainer. Disaster does not yet befall them. Odin's reflexes are as quick as his wit; Leo nonetheless keeps his hand up. One blond eyebrow raises in dubious agreement. "I'll take your word for it."

Low vibrations soon replace deep growls. Slowly, Leo lets his hand fall. Now that the danger has (mostly) passed, he can truly assess this legendary gift.

"Did you create this on your own?" Measured steps carry him forward, until he's peering over Odin's bent shoulder. "What an incredible feat of skill and magic. Is there a meaning to the different colors, or was that purely for aesthetic? Either way, you should be proud of yourself, Odin."

Leo risks crouching beside his friend, also extending his fingers in greeting towards the waxy leaves. "I can honestly say I've never received a birthday gift like this. Thank you, my friend."

[chosenoneofdusk]

lo, at long last, she hath arrived! she whom he cherishes above all others in his heart. she, who leaves blooming flowers in her wake, casting rays of light upon the dark and dismal corners of the earth. she, starlit ophelia, his very pride and joy! his beacon amidst the tempestuous storm of darkness, a guiding light to those who have lost their way, even unto him, who sometimes loses his way himself.

odin stands before her, exuding the majesty of a proud father. a broad smile stretches across his face, illuminating his features with a warmth that contrasts his imposing presence. arms spread wide in a gesture of welcome, and his voice, deep and resonant, booms out for all to hear.

"hark! what vision graces mine eyes? could it be?" a pause, a grin most brilliant. "the chosen heroine, in all her glory! in this most welcome twist of fate, dusk meets dark once more, and all is well in our fabled world."

he remains there for a moment longer, statuesque and poised until he can bear it no longer. odin sweeps her into his arms, and plants a loving peck on her forehead.

"welcome, ophelia. you don't know how overjoyed i am to be reunited with you. now, come! let us get you settled in. you'll need to tell me about your trip in great detail. spare nothing."

Exiting the carriage that had carried her from port to fort, a lone presence stands by the gates. It is a face she could recognize even in her sleep, without need to behold the figure for some time. The one who had given her the fateful tome that had revealed her destiny upon her, the courageous soul who would tear asunder the world if she but asked. How she had missed him when he departed for the school, and to see him now, alight with joy, brought a kindling of warmth she had so desperately needed. 

Her cape, made of the twilight upon which she derived her name, billows from behind her as she reaches her fated encounter with the one who had given her life and blazed the trail she now stepped upon. Seeing his arms spread to welcome none other but her, all the weariness from travel fades as she makes a delighted squeal to see him, before remembering herself and her composure as a chosen one.

“It could only be that which has been written in the stars! It is I, Ophelia Dusk, come to lay claim to my destiny! To accomplish such a feat what could the chosen do but seek out her master on the path that so few dare tread?” She feels eyes rolling and there’s a crowd of whispers, but this moment is not for the bystanders of fate. It is for the two heroes.

She shrieks in delight when she is brought into her father’s arms. Wrapping her own around his neck, she buries her face in his chest. This was what she had missed most in the time her father had been gone, his letters only quelling the loneliness that stirred her soul. Tears threaten to gather at her eyes but do not spill. “I missed you, Father, more than you’ll ever know.” At his words, she smiles. It had been a wondrous trip, but the destination was infinitesimally better. “Very well! As the captain departed from the port closest to home, the wind picked up and WHOOOOSH! Nohr had vanished before I even had a chance to say farewell to the land of my birth, but as a true heroine, I stood true and held fast to my intentions! It stormed and stormed as we traversed the sea, but I used my channeling powers to quell the thunder and make sure we arrived to port safely. But just because we had arrived safely did not mean our troubles were over yet! O’er mountain and valley I traveled by carriage, seeing much of this wondrous continent, before we were set upon by bandits! However they were no match for my magic and finally the heroine’s journey ended with reunification with the blade of darkness and fellow chosen one!” 

[laslow]

[ 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 ] : sender is helping the receiver through a panic attack / severe anxiety. bro what if we were each others rocks during these troubling times

For you, I would

His hands won't stop shaking.

Inigo stares at them as if in a trance, fixated on the staccato rhythm. Battle aftermath is never easy in the best of scenarios; now, after facing near defeat at the claws of a seemingly endless horde of Risen, reality has settled in his chest like a stone.

How can they fight against creatures made from fell magic? How can they possibly avenge their parents when they can't be sure of surviving the next hour?

A band tightens around his ribcage. He can't get a full breath, can't hear past the blood pounding in his ears--

Movement catches in his peripheral. Inigo starts, hands scrabbling for the sword laying discarded in the dirt next to him. Foolish, stupid idea to disappear into the treeline alone. But he needed the space, needed to panic in peace, where no one else could see Inigo the Invincible crumble.

Fingers curl around the blade's hilt, soil gathering underneath his nails. Rising onto his knees, he whirls, weapon half-leveled at the approaching, blurred figure. He doesn't remember starting to cry, but he blinks his tears away regardless, relaxing only fractionally when his vision settles, revealing not another opponent, but Owain.

Inigo's hand spasms, sword dropping unceremoniously back to earth. "H-hey, Owain." His voice cracks and he curls further in on himself, chin touching his chest, shoulders caved.

Of course it's Owain who finds him at his lowest. There's a joke in there somewhere, one Inigo would make in happier circumstances. But right now he can only tremble, and cry, and nearly buckle under the weight of his own fears.

There's a rustle, followed by a sudden presence at his side. Owain's quiet, for once, perhaps feeling some of the same dread coursing through Inigo's veins. A heartbeat passes, then a new weight settles on his shoulders.

Pink head lifts just enough. No trace of mockery lines the other boy's face; instead, his brows are pinched in concern. It's enough of a reassurance that Inigo can feel the crushing despair lighten, breath by breath.

"Thank you, my friend."

[nohrslittleflower]

[ approval ] -  "i commend thee, lady elise, for your choice is as a rare gem unearthed from the depths of antiquity, a treasure that glimmers with the radiance of thy discerning soul!"

Ask Meme from Here!

Elise can’t help but immediately break out into giggles. She’s always entertained by how Odin can manage to say the simplest things in the most complicated way. It’s fun. She’s glad he still does it, even here. 

Though at this point it would probably be really weird to hear him talk normally.

“Thank you! Your selection is as… um… as astounding as the gleaming nights star, brighter than the rest in its splendor of darkness!” She nods confidently as she finishes, beaming up at her brother’s retainer. She’s a little out of practice in speaking Odin-talk ‘the dark tongue’, but she thinks she got it close enough! She’s pretty sure! She hopes! Only Odin would really know if that was true or not though.

[swordsmanoftranquility]

[ Splash ] he's admiring the beautiful, three-tiered fountain — a stunning and regal creation, with ornate stonework worthy of the highest praise! as fate would have it, odin leans in for a better look, only for his brooch to slip from his cape and plunge into the watery depths below with a splash!

he swears under his breath and swiftly plunges an arm into the icy waters, fishing about for it as he mutters to himself. fingers swirl about until he finally manages to retrieve the item with a triumphant (and loud) "AHA!"

it is at that precise moment that odin locks eyes with a stranger he does not recognize...whom he assumes has witnessed the entire spectacle. but he is hardly embarrassed. instead, odin flashes a bright grin, waving the man over with a free hand and motioning toward his now-damp brooch.

"another fiendish trap seen through by the ever-vigilant odin! dark forces may try to pry this precious brooch from my entrusted grasp, but they shall not prevail! come forth, good sir." he waves a soggy, white feather at the other. "shouldst thou need to make a trade, i, humble odin, shall be more than happy to assist thee in your collection quest."

Zihark takes a step forward to stop the strange blond man from falling into the fountain, but he doesn't seem to need to intervene, as the cloaked figure emerges from the water holding a...

An extremely soggy looking feather brooch.

The swordsman can't help but to note that it must be from a bird not acclimated to water, given how... drenched it is now from a mere few minutes at the bottom of the fountain.

"... Fiend... ish trap?" The other man speaks with a flair that is seemingly overacted. What part about falling in the fountain due to dropping his own brooch would be considered a fiendish trap?

"Ah, nevermind. I think you were just a bit clumsy. I don't know about dark forces or all that," Zihark winces, reaching out to take the soggy feather. The water still dripping off of it is almost offensive, but he can't turn down a good offer, especially not when this man seems to mean him no harm.

"I'm not really on a quest for these trinkets. But I'll happily take yours... Odin? I presume," He laughs off the man's strange wording, and tries his best to be polite. No use in being rude without prior reason, "The name's Zihark."

[chosenoneofdusk]

At her father's staring, it is hard not to grow bashful. He looks to her like she hung the very moon from the sky! When he steps in, her confidence returns, as she is no longer under her father's watchful eye. "Then I am once again grateful to Fate for guiding you to me. I look e'er to your guidance, much like how a sailor consults the stars to find their way home upon the stormy waters of destiny!"

When her father's hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, she finds a choke in her breath. Tears rose unbidden to her eyes, but are wiped away without causing any harm to her makeup. For but a single moment, all pretenses are dropped. "Father.... Thank you." After taking but a moment, she is ready to face her Father and continue on this performance only they know the words to.

Reaching out to take the brooch, she plucks one stone from it, before handing it over to her father. "We are supposed to exchange these, are we not? It's splendor will serve you much better than I and may our energies bring you good fortune this night!" Following him out the door, she finally looks to him. A moment alone!

"Father, do you think I will find my destiny here? I searched for it back in Nohr, but after the war, they have no more need of chosen ones. Is that why you left as well?" It is a moment of fear and vulnerability, of no longer belonging in the homeland you barely got to know. Of a child missing her father and wondering why he left her when they had just been reunited. But only a moment. "Or perhaps you were searching behind the meaning of the brand we bear! Of similar bloodlines chosen as we are!" She looks to him, a reaction to prove she's right. "I will assist you in every way I can to find that grander destiny that I know awaits us! Even if we are the only two in the world chosen like this!"

we shall party from dusk 'till dark!

( ethereal ball 2024 )

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

I find it so funny that Corrin is willing to brush Peri’s murderous tendencies off, but will not tolerate Odin’s theatrics even if they get married. Being a theater kid is worse than murdering people in their eyes.

thats just the culture of nohr tbh

[sieglinde-freud]

playing fates again this is how its going

[nostalgia-tblr]

i'm so ambivalent about frigga! on one had i think the MCU treated her very poorly and so fandom should build her up and give her some more 'oomph,' on the other hand what fandom has done with her also annoys me because it apparently decided she's the good parent to be contrasted with her husband even when they did the exact same things.

so i always have the urge to "support" her by making her problematic in one way or another. and strange. she deserves to be strange.

[taguelbunnyboy]

...Professor Dark. Odin Dark.

That...

...Was certainly a name.

"...Hmm..."

Yarne shakes his head, looking through his bag. He'd... been going out more, thankfully, so he was... aware of most of his teachers.

But this was a new name. And a... very unique name. One which either entailed theatrics, or someone with fell allegiance.

And Yarne didn't want to have to deal with the Risen ever again.

So, Yarne elects to attend a lecture by this mysterious "Professor Dark," to see if his cautions are misplaced, or if he should prepare himself and his friends for disaster.

"Uhm, Professor Da-"

Yarne opens the doors, the tall taguel looking down the hall and seeing-

"-rk..."

Blonde hair hits his eyes, and Yarne freezes.

...How long has it been since he's seen that smile? That energy?

...Too long. He missed his friends - even if several of them were here now, there were still so many he missed.

And here one was.

...A teeny bit older than Yarne was expecting, too.

"Sorry for being late, I had to make sure I made it to the right lecture hall..."

Yarne sits cross-legged at one of the front desks, nose twitching.

Could this be someone else? Maybe. But no one else acted so... Owain. No one else had the hair like that, had the posture, the everything. Plus... Laslow and Selena had taken new names (even if he had only seen Laslow for a brief moment almost a year ago.) Maybe he was the same?

One way to find out.

@ofachingblood

Shadow of the Day

[princepsumbra]

are you with crab milord?

Leo casts a surreptitious glance at his retainer, who continues to dutifully read over student essays before scribbling a grade atop the parchment. There doesn't appear to be anything serious bothering Odin, nothing that would account for the unusual silence of the last half hour.

Which can mean two other things: one, Odin is truly concentrating on his work, or two, he's mulling over some question in his mind but hasn't yet found the proper way to voice it.

Leo reaches for the next essay in his own stack. He's barely read the opening sentence when Odin finally breaks their tranquility.

With crab?

Slowly, Leo sets the paper down. Stares at Odin.

With crab?

He's used to odd questions and phrasings, has grown quite adept at sifting through the flowery language for the root meaning. But this? For the first time in years, Leo's at an utter loss.

Wait. A frown pulls at his lips, a crease wrinkling his brow. Is this some kind of...euphemism for something?

Corrin's not with child again, is she?

No. She'd tell Leo before anyone else. He discards that thought as quickly as it arrived, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Odin," the prince eventually says, "what are you talking about?"

[perfectharmonyloveschaos]

I love the absolute chaotic adoptive sibling vibes Atreus and Thrúd have. Thrúd went from being the youngest kid to having an even more chaos gremlin younger brother to wreck havoc with and I think its great cause then you have poor Skjoldr in the corner panicking 24-7 ever since those two became friends. Atreus and Thrúd should be allowed to enable one another.

[laslow]

w-w-aswow??? hewwo??? c-can yuo heaw me?? waswow aw yuou there??? uwuw waswow pwease! caww out my dawk nawme!!!

So far, he's avoided most of the shenanigans going on around the monastery today. No time like the present to catch up on grading assignments! (Which, he could have finished earlier, but this last failed date left him more melancholy than usual. Probably something to do with the lovely lady throwing a perfectly good piece of lemon cake in his face.)

Even now he can still taste the chocolate frosting that landed on his lips. The things he endures for love are worthy of epic ballads!

Laslow sets his quill down, then stretches out his wrists. He eyes the remaining stack of papers; not so many now that he can't enjoy some fun before returning to the grind.

Standing, he's about to scoot his chair in when he hears it. Eyes narrowed, he pauses, waiting for it to sound again--

He sighs. That voice is unmistakable, even in whatever tone that is. "Odin, I have never wished I couldn't hear you more." Laslow creeps closer to the door. "Careful, now, or my--" Damn, how did Odin come up with names on the fly? "My Dazzling Door Opening art will knock your socks off!"

[laslow]

Only years of putting up with speeches like Odin's give Laslow the ability to mostly tune it out. He gets the gist of it all, maintaining his sad-yet-hopeful expression while mentally whacking Odin upside the head.

The poor king's rage is a fearsome sight to behold. Laslow's hand slips around the hilt of his sword in case the fakes decide their performance is up, but they manage to hold it together in a surprising display of willpower. Lips part to speak, but he can't say much lest he risk blowing their cover.

A thousand thousand times more lovely when your mind fails you? Imposter or not, Laslow can't hold his tongue any longer. "Seriously? That's how you compliment a woman? Where's the romance? You haven't learned anything from me." He feels all eyes turn to him, an answering flush creeping along his neck. "That is, your fair lady wife is deserving of far more affection! Like...like how her eyes are the color of sunset, or compare her voice to that of birdsong!"

He clears his throat. "Ah. I have never seen this fair maiden before. Are you a recent acquaintance of my lady Corrin's?" Fake Celica freezes, clearly unsure of how to salvage this.

"Oh...n-yes! Yes, we met on our trip to Faerghus."

"Truly? How strange; milord Leo and I traveled with Corrin and I don't recall seeing a lovely face like yours."

He prays the real Corrin and Celica never catch wind of this.

ultimate shadow mirage!

laslow​:

Laslow barely manages to suppress an eyeroll, long since used to Odin’s particular view of the world. Particularly crazy, he can’t help but think, trying to keep the open sarcasm off his face. If he liked Odin a little less, this would easily become one of his favorite stories to tell. But he can’t judge too harshly; he doubts his own impression of Silas is any better. 

Given that their bar for scrutiny is an obviously terrible Corrin and Celica, he’s confident they’ll manage to scrape by regardless of if they fully embody their chosen roles. 

And truly, she is an awful Corrin. Wearing shoes, and not knowing she’s married! Next she’ll say her favorite animals are goats, not bunnies. The nerve of some people. King Rufus has the decency to look properly scandalized, and perhaps a little embarrassed. Laslow wants to comfort him, nod in understanding that they’ve all been tricked by a girl who isn’t who she says she is, but Silas would never say such things. 

He tracks false-Celica’s nervousness, shifting his own weight to the balls of his feet in case she tries to bolt.  Attention snaps back to the king, voice commanding even in his disbelief. Yikes. Fake-Corrin’s trembling is the realest thing about her. He’s been on the receiving end of plenty stares just like that and knows exactly how nerve-inducing they are. 

The careful nudge jolts him from his thoughts. He clears his throat and nods, features transforming into one of dutiful sadness. “Ah, yes, did you forget our plans again? You said you always wanted to see the beach…” Laslow trails off with a forlorn shrug. “We’ve been planning this for months. But it’s okay! I know you’re still getting your memories back.” 

A helpless glance to Odin. “It’s my fault, milord. I should have reminder her.” 

Damn right it’s his fault! As is every tragedy that befalls him in the modern age.

But Odin makes no comment; the growth of his smirk is enough.

“Worry yourself not, o boon companion of mine. Woe is your wailing soul, for my wife’s memories of you have been scattered in the stardust of time! A highly intellectual being such as myself sees that amnesia is a perpetrator-less crime.” 

If he were genuinely speaking to Lady Corrin, he’d have a point. It is neither her nor Silas’ fault that she can’t remember: she simply can’t, and that fact remains unchanging. 

But this new piece of knowledge twists Rufus’ scowl into a perplexed squint. The merchant, too, is now interested by their tale–seeming to have forgotten the losses they incurred on this day. The Story of the Lost Princess’ Lost Memory, Odin would call it. And it’d be a big one, too.

It’s a shame he can’t tell it as himself.

“You mean to tell me you’ve had a husband this whole time… And forgot?!” shouts Rufus, his patience at its wits end. Both frauds back down in the face of his confusion. Somehow, it is worse than his rage. Corrin tries to speak up, claiming “I’ve never met these men in my life!” but Odin is ready. He flashes his ring–evidently not Leo’s, lest he have his hand cut off for stealing such a thing–and it draws everyone’s attention. “My love! You are a thousand thousand times more lovely when your mind fails you! Come now, this trip ought to jog your memory once more!” 

But as he reaches for her arm Rufus stops him, turning the glowing suspicion in his eyes at our two heroes. “And what of her?” he grumbles, finger turned to a Celica who looks ready to bolt. Any second now, she’d be off like a jackrabbit over a dusted plain. Can their hunter’s volley catch their prey? Odin swallows hard, hoping Laslow has something planned. Were he keen on being more honest in front of angry strangers, he’d admit he never thought this far…

[stargayzerlily03]

More "Odin Eidolon in Ducktales 2017" stuff. And can you tell I totally used DonDaisy kiss from the actual show as a reference to just draw a DonOdin version of it, because that ship rocks and I'm so normal about them hahaha. 😳

Also it's too late Odin, Scrooge knows you're gay for his nephew and so do the kids too.

(Odin's Ducktales 2017 design belongs to @marziafantasia94 !)

[emblemxeno]

Can you imagine if Owain, Inigo, and Severa shared an Emblem bracelet or even just were just in Elyos for some reason with new aliases i’d love them to keep being recurring characters it’s so fucking funny lmao