#hugin replies

[huginsmemory]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Omg thank you for the ask!!! 💕 Damn, I don't know which to really choose. I take so long to write anything that I find it hard to judge things; and especially as then years have gone by regarding my posted and finished fanfics it makes me difficult to choose. For fanfics I really have a bunch of fandoms I've periodically cobbled something together (as a result each fic rec is from a different show) and many I haven't read in years; but I've quite enjoyed the chance to go back and actually read them.

#1 - Blackbird series (Trigun (Trimax), Vashwood)

Ahhh this doesn't count as two right? It's my most recent work composed of Blackbird (M, 5.5k) and I'm no pale faced saint (E, 11k) both which I really enjoyed writing. Blackbird is vignettes of Vash and Wolfwoods relationship (if they were lovers) over the course of trimax. I'm no pale faced saint is a story tucked sometime within the same au when Wolfwoods and Vash are travelling, and during their stop Wolfwoods is asked to perform a funeral; later the two of them talk about promises in amongst foreshadowing of what will later occur and sexy times. It was also the first time I forayed into writing explicit fanfic which was certainly interesting and perhaps fun? Still not sure haha. Both are pretty bittersweet. Technically it's supposed to be a triptych, with a third and final installation which I've... not finished writing. Fingers crossed I'll get around to having some time to finish it eventually... It's all planned out so I just need to sit down and write the damned thing.

#2 - Tracing Ink on Skin (JJK, Satosugu, M, 34k)

A yakuza au fic that I'm still working on, that I originally started because there was none of those fics when the first season had come out. The premise is they were schoolmates, and lose touch after, Satoru the next in line for the head of one of the big Yakuza families, only to be reunited when Suguru finds Satoru bleeding out on his doorstep. I'm reccing it cause it's a bit newer. It's also my first long fic which is exciting but also haunts me a bit since it's also definitely not a priority, since I keep neglecting to write new chapters... shoves my 10 newer WIP fanfics into the drawer guiltily. Again I've got the whole thing planned out, I just need to actually write it. Also part of me wants to rewrite some areas, ack!

#3 - Chain Restaurants and the Beginnings of Friendship (Dorohedoro, Risu x Aikawa, T, 3.5k)

Also in the scheme of things newer... Premise is the two of them go for lunch right after Aikawa kills the teacher. I like this one with it's fun twist and actually intended it as a part of a series of short vignettes, as I had more ideas... as you can see I'm great at finishing things. I've heard there's supposed to be a second season of Dorohedoro coming out which might help kick me back into the mood. I really should trawl through my WIP files...

#4 - Warm Lights on Sleepless Nights. (Golden Kamuy, SugumotoxOgata, G, 3k)

Premise is it's a vignette of a modern au of Sugumoto essentially waking up from a nightmare, and remembering the time that Ogata was also awake at the same time before his betrayal, and the possible implications of that.

#5 - Antiform Haunting (Gotham, Edward Nygma x Oswald Cobblepot, T, 3k)

Premise is on some unseen scenes after Ed betrays Oswald, and dreams of him, leading up to the scene where Ed hallucinates Ed. I liked this one better then the other, softer fic I had written on the pair, which more people seemed to have enjoyed; how funny.

I'm ignoring how clearly all the pairs I write for are tragic character relationships (or perceived relationships lol) here. Nope, I don't know what you're talking about, I totally am not addicted to bittersweet or sad writing.

[saphronethaleph]

A Family Grassland

“Hey, boss,” Hugin said, alighting on Odin’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, but here comes trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Odin replied. “It can’t be anything too bad, can it? I have not seen calamity coming to Asgard in later times.”

“Well, depends what you call trouble,” Hugin replied, glancing over at where Vili was observing curiously. “But I’d call it trouble, if you ask me.”

Odin snorted.

“Get to the point,” he demanded.

Hugin bobbed his head, spreading a wing. “Well… Loki’s back.”

“...oh, no,” Odin muttered. “And he’s not just back from… doing something normal, is he?”

It was unlikely. Loki was one of the Aesir, truly, just like the rest of them, but trouble and havoc were his finest friends and he did seem to spend an awful lot of time indulging them.

Constantly.

“All signs point to no, boss,” Hugin said. “He’s been missing for a few months.”

“I wondered why it was so quiet around here,” Odin muttered. “Vili, could you-”

“Not a chance, not in the least,” Vili replied. “I’ll come and watch for moral support, but you’re the ruler of Asgard and this is your responsibility.”

Odin muttered something sulphurous, then Hugin took off from his shoulder and Odin followed him towards the mighty gates of Asgard.

Halfway there, Geri joined him, Munin riding on the big wolf’s back, and Odin fixed his familiars with a glare.

“Where is Freki?” he asked.

Geri shrugged, burping discreetly. “Probably still eating,” he said. “I know I was at dinner when Munin brought the news. I want to see this as well.”

Munin cackled, and Odin massaged the temple over his missing eye with a hand.

“I know I wanted this job, and the rewards are mighty, but sometimes it’s a bit much,” he said, then halted as Loki approached under the boughs of Glasir.

There was no mistaking him, and Odin brought out his spear Gungnir before rapping it on the ground.

“Who seeks entrance to Asgard?” he asked.

Loki laughed.

“So asks the god who knows all, sees all!” he replied. “And the one who’s got two incorrigible gossips as familiars, to boot.”

Hugin took flight with a whirr of wings.

“Where have you been, you old reprobate?” the crow asked, once he was out of immediate chastisement range of his master.

“I travelled afar, once more!” Loki answered. “To a land far to the north, and to the west, to islands which rest in not water but ice, and where the sun never rises in the winter-time, where the auroras dance their nightly dance.”

He spread his hands. “Of course, I am the father of lies, changer of shapes, inconstant as the flame and subtle as the spider and the tangler of words and meanings, so you can take as much or as little of that as you like.”

“And the worst of it is, you don’t even just lie,” Odin sighed. “That would make things far too easy, and you couldn’t have that, could you…”

“Not at all,” Loki agreed, sounding positively delighted by the very question, even though it hadn’t really been one. “How are the pups doing, Geri?”

“They’re growing,” Geri answered, sounding somewhat more embarrassed as Loki reminded everyone present of the existence of those pups.

Loki smirked. “Good, good,” he said.

“Stop this,” Odin requested. “We both know why you’re here, Loki. We all know why you’re here. The very stones of Valhalla know why you’re here.”

He glared. ��Who, or what, was it this time?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Loki lied.

Vili sniggered.

“Yes, do explain, brother,” he asked. “Odin, All-Father, who sees all… explain what you mean, if you would?”

“Brothers,” Odin muttered. “What manner of being did you sleep with this time, Loki?”

“Oh, so that’s what you mean?” Loki asked, sounding delighted. “So you’re wondering what new member of the big Aesir family I might have brought home with me after a liaison or dalliance?”

“Yes,” Odin grated.

Loki grinned. “I don’t see why you think I would have done.”

Hugin and Munin landed on Vili’s shoulders so they could laugh as hard as they liked, and Odin tapped Gungnir on the ground as he attempted to regain some semblance of dignity.

Not that it was anything other than a lost cause. Loki was like that.

“Experience,” Odin replied. “We are standing in the gates of the wall which was largely built by Svathilfari, the stallion, until you seduced him away from his master and mothered Sleipnir. Fenrir, the mightiest of wolves, whose jaws are as the sky, was the result of a ‘fling’ you had with Angrboda, as were the world-serpent Jormungandr and a half-zombie by the name of Hel. And I’m not sure how that even worked on a genetic level.”

“What’s genetics?” Vili asked.

“Something you learn about if you learn about everything,” Odin replied. “Also: silence, I am talking.”

He glowered at Loki. “And that is just the beginning of it. You have fathered children on, or mothered children by, a veritable menagerie of beings. Nidhoggr’s daughter who hatched from an egg laid by you is out with Vé learning to hunt, I am fairly sure you seduced Gullinbursti at some point… there was Skinfaxi and Hrimfaxi…several of the Valkyries…and that is before getting into the many, many diplomatic incidents you have caused with the other realms.”

Odin turned his attention to Geri. “And, of course, at least one of my own familiars.”

“Loki is a very sweet talker,” Geri muttered.

“So,” Odin resumed. “Out with it, Loki. What is it this time? A bat, perhaps? A tree? Have you found a way to beget a child of the morning itself?”

Loki pulled a small fox out of his sleeve, placing the kit on his other hand.

The little divine beast yawned, tail flicking, and blue-purple-green light swished behind his tail in a trail of light that dripped to the ground and whirled in a familiar way.

“…the aurora,” Odin sighed. “You managed to sleep with the northern lights.”

“Indeed I did,” Loki confirmed. “My oath, not that that’s worth much of anything, but the fur on that vixen is remarkable-”

“Why do you do this?” Odin demanded. “Is it truly that you simply cannot keep it in your trousers?”

“Half the time it’s actually others getting into-” Vili said, then got glared at with sufficient venom that he actually shut up.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Loki challenged.

“Because it is the fate of your children to bring about Ragnarok,” Odin replied.

“So?” Loki asked, as his youngest son scampered up his arm to sit on his head and take in the sights. “Because fate sounds like something that you either can fight, or you can’t. And if you can’t fight it, then why exactly would there be any point whatsoever in trying? So it’s not like I’m making anything any worse… I know those prophecies and they say overmuch about Fenris, but not a word is said about Ylver Nidhoggsdotr, so it would seem that she is irrelevant at best in the outcome of Ragnarok. Repeat as needed.”

He shrugged. “While if fate can be fought, and a wyrd can weave and waver, then… well, the argument holds no water. And I am Loki, my lord of the Aesir. I am the tangler of words and meanings, and if fate says that my son Fenris is the instrument of Ragnarok to bring down Asgard then I will find a way out of that trap.”

The voice of the trickster god had suddenly become flat and serious, and Odin considered – then sighed.

He, too, had sons, after all.

“I admit to your point,” he said. “Just… do you think you could be a little more low-key?”

Loki applauded, all his good humour back again. “Oh, very nice!” he said. “Very nice indeed. I’ll consider it purely for the wordplay… but first I need to introduce little Boreas to his many brothers and sisters.”

[nostalgicnarrator]

Over Hill and Under Mountain

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Word Count: 6,003

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Bilbo wakes up…

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

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Warning:

No one’s getting horribly mangled, murdered or deep-fried just warning.

Note:

Guys I’ve edited this and edited this and fixed it a million times and I am convinced I’ve lost all meaning to words, if there’s anything wrong or anything that doesn’t make any sense at all let me know.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Bilbo found himself waking up to the soft sounds of a distant waterfall and the chirping of birds. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, but the sheets beneath him were light and soft, the air was filled with a familiar faint floral scent mingled with the sharper smell of herbs. 

He blinked slowly, the room around him coming into focus, a gentle light filtering through the sheer curtains, there was a gentle breeze brushing through the room.

Bilbo turned his head away from the light, feeling a dull throb coming from his head and a tender pain in his side. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan as he tried to sit up. Suddenly, a wave of nauseating dizziness washed over him.

Bilbo let out a whine of pain. A rough hand found its way to his chest and back, steadying him. Bilbo opened his eyes quickly and followed the arm until Óin appeared at his side.

The healer offered him a kind look, his rough hands surprisingly gentle as he helped Bilbo into a more comfortable position. “Easy there, lad,” Óin murmured. “You’ve been through quite a bit. No need to rush things.”

Bilbo nodded, his gaze drifting to the window. Outside, the world seemed so serene, the river glistening in the sunshine, its surface like glass. 

He suddenly felt worlds away when he remembered his tumble down that slope. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. He shook his head and decided to look around.

“How long have I been here?” Bilbo asked, his throat felt dry and scratchy from disuse, he tried to clear it but found it no use.

Óin disappeared from his side for a moment before returning with some water. “Three days,” Óin replied. “I’ve done what I can with a little elven healing on the side.” He said as he helped Bilbo drink. 

The water was cool and refreshing as it eased the dryness in Bilbo’s throat. He let out a small sigh of relief. “Thank you, Óin.” Suddenly a memory hit him and his brows furrowed. “Gandalf, I-I was traveling with him…Óin, Is he-?”

“He’s fine lad! Knew you were a little out of it from the fall didn’t think it was that bad-” Óin chuckled. “He’s outside, keeping an eye on things. You gave everyone a scare.”

Bilbo managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry to be such a bother.” 

“Nonsense,” Óin said gruffly. A kind look found the old healer's face as he spoke.“Just focus on getting better, alright?” And Bilbo couldn’t help but nod.

But as the days passed and his strength slowly returned, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that settled in his chest, that something was wrong or misplaced.

And being confined to bed was driving him mad. He began wanting for a distraction, for something to take his mind off his new weird feelings.

One morning, after a lot of “please, Óin!” and “I promise, Óin,” and “just for a bit at least! You won’t be far away, I’ll call for you if I feel sick suddenly,” Bilbo finally managed to convince Óin to let him have visitors.

Bilbo felt his face light up when Gandalf entered the room, carrying a stack of books from Elrond’s library, a familiar glint nestled kindly in Gandalf’s eye.

“I thought you might enjoy some light reading,” Gandalf said, setting the books down on the bedside table. “I’ve also brought a friend.”

“A friend?” Bilbo echoed excitedly, was it Thorin, was Thorin here and the Dwarf was simply not allowed to see Bilbo yet?

But a bit of that hope flattened when a small black shape fluttered through the doorway, it was Hugin. Bilbo smiled kindly all the same though as Hugin perched on the bedpost. The bird ruffled his feathers and tilted his head at Bilbo.

“Hugin!” Bilbo said as excitedly as he could. “It’s good to see you.”

Hugin flapped his wings once, hopping in place a bit. “Good to see you too, Master Baggins! I had delivered your letter and then all of a sudden I was sent here!”

Gandalf smiled at the two and excused himself to speak with an elf who called for him at the door, leaving Bilbo and Hugin alone. 

Bilbo leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Hugin, do you know if Thorin is coming? Did you hear anything when you delivered my letter?”

The raven blinked thoughtfully. “Well, I delivered your letter, I had a nice time there, Thorin keeps all kinds of tasty treats but nothing like you Master Baggins”

“Hugin, call me Bilbo, I’m not anything’s master” Bilbo said, rattling it off like he had said it a dozen times before.

“Right, yes, of course Master Baggins.” And Bilbo sighed loudly as the raven continued. “I was then sent away here with a letter from King Thorin. He looked really upset…” 

“What did it say?” Bilbo whispered to the raven, he felt his stomach begin to tie knots.

“I didn’t know, but I do remember that King Thorin said it was about you.” Hugin did his best attempt at a shrug. “I flew here as fast as I could and handed it over to the wizard when I saw him. After that Óin showed up!”

“Just Óin…he showed up alone? Do…do you think Thorin is mad at me? I am sure I am very late by now.”

“Master Baggins! How dare you suggest that! King Thorin cares for you very much! Thorin didn’t seem mad so maybe he’s already on his way to visit! And maybe Thorin is running late- oh! Or got lost! You know how he gets”

Bilbo chuckled and nodded, “yes I do, thank you Hugin…is there anything else…?”

“Yes! There was much whispering and fussing between the wizard, the healer, and the Lord of Rivendell; it started a few days after Óin showed up.”

Bilbo’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, whispering?”

Hugin nodded vigorously. “Aye, secretive talk. They all acted a bit strange, As if they were waiting for something… maybe something bad…?”

Before Bilbo could press further, Gandalf returned with a gentle smile. “I see you two are catching up,” he said lightly, though his eyes seemed to be studying Bilbo carefully.

Bilbo nodded, dropping the line of questioning for the moment. “Yes, it’s been quite nice. Thank you Gandalf.”

Gandalf simply nodded, settling back into the chair by the bed. “Now, tell me, Bilbo, have you read up on Rivendell’s history? I thought you might find it fascinating.”

Bilbo smiled, letting the conversation shift, but a seed of unease had been planted, it made Bilbo feel something, something weird. Bilbo felt something, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. His unease was growing, and he knew that something was about to happen. He was sure of it.

A few days passed, and Bilbo was feeling well enough to sit up for longer periods.  Lord Elrond came to visit him in his room, Elrond smiled as he greeted Bilbo “How are you feeling, Master Baggins?” Elrond's voice was gentle as he took a seat by the bedside.

“Lord Elrond! It’s good to see you again! And I’m the master of nothing, call me Bilbo, as I had asked several times before.” 

Elrond chuckled and smiled, "Forgive me, Bilbo. It has been a long time since I have seen you, and old habits die hard." Bilbo grinned back, “Now tell me, how are you feeling?”

“Oh! Well, Óin says I'm getting better,” Bilbo replied. “Though, I do wish I could get out of bed. I feel horribly useless just lying here.”

Elrond chuckled softly. “Rest is a form of healing too, my friend. Your body needs time to recover.”

Bilbo gave Elrond a playful glare “I know that rest is a type of healing, but, I’m a restless hobbit!”

“Didn’t Mithrandir- Gandalf steal away some books for you?” and Bilbo could not stop himself from sighing at the elf’s words.

“A few, yes, but there is only so much reading can do for you! I’ve already read them twice over-“ Bilbo glared at the books that were now on a table across the room, he had read them not too long after Gandalf left. 

“Twice! You just got them only a few days ago, how in the name of Ennor did you manage that?” the elven lord raised a brow as he asked. Bilbo thought it looked a little out of place on the elf's face.

Bilbo huffed and snuggled back into his bedding, “I like reading…” he looked up when the Elven lord laughed. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“No- no! you misunderstand, you are such a curious hobbit, I’ll see about getting you something more to read soon” Elrond said after he calmed down.

Bilbo huffed and crossed his arms with a grumpy pout “I like histories and botany books”

“Of course” Elrond offered him a kind smile and Bilbo found himself smiling back. They settled into more boring topics as they spoke for a while longer. 

Sometimes turning the conversation to discuss Rivendell and the beauty of the valley. It felt all perfectly regular and Bilbo could feel some of that unease wash away from him.

Not long after Elrond left, Hugin came fluttering through his room window. The raven circled around for a bit before settling down on Bilbo’s bed.

The raven greeted Bilbo with a cheerful caw hopping over excitedly before dropping a small blue flower onto his lap. “I thought you might like this, Master Baggins,” Hugin chirped.

Bilbo smiled, picking up the flower. The color reminded him of Thorin, he brushed one of its petals with a soft smile. “Thank you, Hugin. It’s lovely.” He paused, ‘…Thorin.’ He heard his mind echo to him.

He sat up a little straighter, as far as he could stand without help, “Hugin” Bilbo started trying to keep his voice even and quiet, “can you tell me more about this letter you delivered from Erebor? Did you talk to Thorin?”

Hugin tilted his head. “Of course! I stayed in his chambers for a while, it was too cold on Raven hill.”

“You did? Can you tell me about him? How is he?” Blibo asked, it wasn’t the line of questioning he had meant to ask, but it was to late.

Hugin hopped into Bilbo’s lap and settled down comfortably, “Thorin looked fine, he looked like he always does-well, his Beard is getting long! He had a bead in it-“

“It’s already that long? Last time I saw him it was still short. Do you think he looks handsome like that?” Bilbo tisked and rolled his eyes, he reached to scratch Hugin’s head. “I told him if he grew his beard out he’d look handsome- always complaining about how ugly he is, can you believe that?”

The bird cooed at the scratches, Hugin huffed when Bilbo stopped, but decided to answer one of Bilbo’s questions “Thorin did kinda seem upset about something, but not mad. More worried, he was always pacing. I think he misses you, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo’s heart ached at the thought. “I miss him too,” he whispered. “I hope I see him soon…”

“Master Baggins, I told you, he’s gonna visit you, just give him time. Be patient!” Hugin cawed at him.

“Say you, you nearly had a fit when I told you dinner would be in a few minutes” Bilbo teased the bird.

“I had already waited hours!!” Hugin whined as he fluffed up

Bilbo gave a look he was sure his mother used to give him when he was acting out. “You had just finished eating less than an hour before!”

“But I was so hungry!” Hugin whined, the bird flopped over onto his back and looked at Bilbo “you were trying to starve me!”

“Hugin!” Bilbo laughed as the Raven kept whining. He couldn’t help but find it funny. And he gladly welcomed the change of topics. At least for now.

One afternoon, Bilbo had to convince Óin again, swearing he’d be fine. And after some more promising Bilbo found himself in a chair on a balcony.

It was a very nice day, strangely warm and the way the sun hit made Bilbo stretch out as much as he could comfortably in the chair he was in.

Bilbo smoked on his pipe peacefully. He blew a smoke ring and watched as it peacefully drifted away in a soft breeze. “I remember when we first came here, I spent most of my time exploring.” 

Bilbo looked over to the wizard next to him, Gandalf was giving him a soft smile, “I believe you did if I remember correctly. I believe I also remember you and Thorin disappearing for a time; I wonder what for.” The wizard hummed.

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat, he ignored the last part of Gandalf’s sentence, he spouted whatever came to mind first. “Do you think he’ll come?” 

Gandalf raised a bushy brow at Bilbo as he smoked his own pipe, Gandalf blew rings that floated around him. Each ring a different color, they curled and weaved into one another.

“Who my dear boy?” Gandalf asked after blowing another ring.

“Thorin, do you think he’ll come…?” Bilbo rolled his pipe in his hands nervously.

“Ah….” Gandalf hummed for a moment, seemingly hesitating before smiling widely at him. “Perhaps? Though this seems more a question for Óin.”

“Óin…?” Bilbo echoed back, he looked over at Gandalf again.

Gandalf simply hummed and nodded his head before going back to smoking his pipe, Bilbo nodded to himself and decided he’d ask the Dwarf later.

When Óin agreed Bilbo’s health had improved enough to be allowed to explore the Last Homely House east of the sea. Though he had been there before, had already explored, He couldn’t help but find himself wandering the halls and gardens.

He remembered his first time there all over again. How the places felt like a haven to him. Other feelings he felt then came back to him, though not all were good feelings the sense of wonder was felt the most. 

With each step though the Elven halls, it brought relief to his crowded mind. He had begun to worry more over Thorin, his feelings for the dwarf and if everyone else was right.

He wanted to see Thorin badly, he had to see him. And as much as he wanted to ask Óin he couldn’t. He was scared of what the healer would tell him.

What if all his worries were true, what if Thorin really didn’t want to see him, ‘what if he hates me?’ Bilbo stilled at the thought.

‘What if he hates me…?’ Bilbo ran a hand through his hair. ‘What if he send another letter and he tells me he never wants to talk to me again? Tells me I should had stayed in the shire?’

Bilbo shook his head trying to chase the thoughts away again, he tried to focus on the feeling of the magic that was wrapping around him like a warm hug.

It brought with it memories that began to replace the foul thoughts in his head. Thoughts of home, of distant moments when he would come home with sticks and leaves in his hair, trailing in mud and fireflies.

His mother would march him off for a bath with the promise of stories of elves and all her adventures if he were to listen to her. Memories of how she would wrap him nicely in a warm towel.

Memories of his father and watching him sit at his desk, writing for long hours, Bilbo remembered how he would walk over and try and watch them his father would pull him to his lap and let Bilbo read as he wrote.

Memories began to mix, and change into different memories, ones that were not as distant of memories. Most were of a raven haired king, of how he was wrapped in a warm embrace.

He looked out over the garden, his mind wondered back to when he had last seen Thorin. The days they spent together when he visited, were lovely.

They had spent long hours walking the winding roads of the shire, telling stories and having a wonderful time.

He smiled widely as he stepped foot onto one of the garden’s paths. He began to trail slowly through the garden, the flowers still bloomed despite the cooler weather. Bilbo wondered if it was strange magic there that allowed them to.

Bilbo sighed and brushed his fingers along some vines that bloomed beautifully with flowers. He stopped at some soft blue flowers. He felt like they were glaring at him.

And then Bilbo was reminded, reminded of everything he was worried about and the growing unease that had begun to take root within him. And from there it only got worse.

It started with the small things, as all problems seem to do. He began to notice how Óin had begun to sneak away to speak in hushed tones with Gandalf or the Elves. 

And had even frequently caught the dwarven healer staring at him, his brow furrowed in thought, or pacing the halls while muttering to himself. 

The more Bilbo began to notice, the more he watched, the stranger things seemed, and he felt that something incredibly important was being kept from him.

One afternoon, Bilbo took a chance to explore more of Rivendell on his own. He wasn’t meant to be up that day, but Óin was preoccupied, so Bilbo took the moment to escape. 

That’s how he found himself in a dining hall, where an open letter lay on the table. Clearly forgotten by the elf lord or otherwise. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of him, he leaned over and read a few lines.

Bilbo’s heart sinking as he read and learned, the letter spoke of dark forces gathering in the Gap of Rohan and spreading towards Mirkwood. 

Bilbo felt the uneasy feeling climb higher, something sick scratched and clawed inside him. Bilbo couldn’t understand it, didn’t want to, he was afraid but why? The issue was so far away and he was among eleven magics.

But before he could pull himself into a true panic, Óin spoke from behind him. “What do you think you’re doing, Bilbo?” Bilbo could hear the concern in the healers voice even when he tried to mask it with gruffness. “Didn’t I tell you to rest, Lad?”

Bilbo felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “I’m sorry, Óin. I just...”

Óin sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Aye, lad. But some things are best left alone until the time is right. Come, let’s get you back to bed.”

As Óin guided him back, Bilbo’s mind raced. ‘What else were they not telling me?’ He thought desperately, ‘Was this something that had to do with Thorin?’ ‘Was he okay?’ ‘Where was he?’ ‘Will he be here?’ ‘Was he even coming?’ His thoughts swirled around his mind.

Bilbo had to shake his dizzying thoughts away, he wondered vaguely if he should have asked Óin more, if he should do as Gandalf suggested.

Then the opportunity presented itself a few days later, as Bilbo sat by a small fountain with his eyes closed, listening to the soothing sound of the water, he heard the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching. 

He opened his eyes and smiled up at Óin as the older dwarf joined him, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Good morning, lad,” Óin greeted him, “You’re looking better today.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo replied with a nod. He let a comfortable silence fall between them, feeling the cool mist from the fountain on his face. 

After a moment, he decided that the time to question the dwarf had come. Trying to keep his tone light, he said, “I can’t help but notice you seem very busy lately. Is something the matter?”

Óin paused, his hand hovering over the pipe he was pulling from his pocket. He looked at Bilbo as if searching for something.

Then Óin sighed heavily before sitting down beside Bilbo. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before you asked,” he said, beginning to pack his pipe with tobacco.

Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

“Thorin was supposed to come with me lad,” Óin spoke loudly, though he often did. “We were to travel together, but he took too long…I feared I was out of time, so I left ahead. When I last saw him, he was waiting on Kíli and Fíli. We were supposed to meet in Mirkwood.”

“Then what happened…?” Bilbo asked, his anxiety creeping into his voice.

Óin shrugged. “Things didn’t go as planned, I assume. I came ahead.” He took a drag on his pipe, the smoke curling around his face. “After I arrived, we started getting a few letters from Erebor.”

“Letters?” Bilbo pressed, hoping for more information.

“Aye,” Óin nodded. “Letters, mostly from Balin. They’re meant for Thorin when he gets here.”

“So… so he is coming…?” Bilbo muttered, Óin gave him a confused look and Bilbo suddenly remembered that Óin was hard of hearing and he wasn’t facing the hobbit to be able to read his lips.

“Thorin is coming?” He asked, trying to be a bit louder.

Óin gave a small nod. “I believe so. He and others will be here soon enough.”

“Others?” Bilbo asked, trying to keep his hope in check.

Óin hummed and nodded in agreement as he took another puff from his pipe. “Most likely Fíli and Kíli, Nori and probably Dwalin- maybe Bombur but I doubt it, he’s waiting on his Brother and cousin  to come back. That group is bound to be slower than I was, especially with the princes.”

“How-how long ago was that…?” Bilbo’s voice cracked as he asked, he would tell you it was because he had to be louder than he liked.

Óin looked down at Bilbo and sighed, placing a comforting hand on the hobbit’s shoulder. “Traveling on any road isn’t without danger. But I’m sure they’ll be fine, lad.”

Despite the reassurance, a flowering anxiety bloomed in Bilbo’s chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.

The next day Bilbo skipped First breakfast, he couldn’t eat anything and if he did he began to feel sick. He decided since he was unable to do anything he’d go find someone to bother.

He very quickly found Gandalf strolling through the gardens. The leaves rustled softly in the breeze, and birds sang in the trees. It would have been very pleasant if Bilbo didn’t feel like throwing up.

He fell into step beside Gandalf, who greeted him with a warm smile. “Good morning, Bilbo. Feeling restless today, I see.”

Bilbo nodded, his hands fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. “Gandalf,” he began hesitantly, “do you think they’re alright? Thorin and the others, I mean.”

Gandalf’s expression softened, and he paused in his walk, placing a gentle hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “I do,” he replied calmly. “This is Thorin we are talking about. You should know better than anyone, that they have faced far worse than an unwilling path.”

Bilbo nodded again, but he still felt the sickening anxiety twisting within him. “I just… I can’t help but worry. I suppose I am truly turning into an old fool…”

Gandalf sighed.  “ you have always been a foolish Hobbit Bilbo, have no doubt on that”

“Thank you Gandalf, you know you must work on your reassurances”

Gandalf chuckled and nodded “ I suppose so, have patience, my dear boy. They will come. I’m certain of it.” He patted Bilbo on the back before walking again. 

Bilbo quickly followed beside the gray wizard. Gandalf spoke again “In the meantime, take solace in the peace of this place. Rivendell has a way of healing more than just the body.”

Bilbo managed a small smile at the attempt of comforting words. As they continued their walk, he tried to focus on the beauty around him, but his thoughts still remained with his Dwarfs

Bilbo had been doing his best to occupy his mind, focusing on light walks through Rivendell or engaging in pleasant conversations with whomever he could catch.

Unsurprisingly it was often Gandalf or Lord Elrond who kept him company, though sometimes Hugin would follow him around. They felt almost like a temporary balm to the unease that had been growing slowly within him.

But then, without warning, it happened. It was a perfect afternoon, well a nearly perfect one, at least. The sun had bathed the garden in a kind golden light.

Bilbo found himself alone among the flowers, their bright colors almost too bright in the light of the day. He couldn’t help but marvel at the delicate petals. He inhaled deeply, trying to savor the sweet, earthy scent of each flower.

Suddenly, Bilbo’s world tilted. The sturdy earth beneath his feet shifted. A sharp pain stabbed through his chest, stealing his breath away.

He tried to breathe in air, but his lungs refused to cooperate, leaving him gasping, each breath undoubtedly ragged, in a desperate struggle. The once calming warmth of the sun turned sharp and burning.

His hands instinctively grabbed at the ground, as he fell to his knees. Bilbo’s fingers dug into the soft soil wanting for an anchor to keep him in reality. 

Panic surged through him, cold and swift. He shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness that clouded his mind, but it only made things worse. The vibrant colors of the garden; the reds, yellows, and blues of the flowers he’d been admiring, began to blur together, their edges softening and darkening.

Darkness slowly dug its claws into him and the edges of his vision. Bilbo felt his arms tremble, his strength had left him almost completely. Bilbo glanced around, his eyes still wild-eyed, searching for someone, anyone, who could help him.

But the garden was deserted, and the realization struck him, and struck him hard. He wined and Bilbo could feel tears blurring the rest of his vision, he was alone.

A strangled sound escaped his throat as his arms finally gave out. He buckled, and crumpled to the ground, the impact sending a jolt of pain through him. 

Panic swelled within his chest, mingling with the suffocating sensation that gripped his lungs. ‘I’m gonna die here’ his mind all but screamed. 

He tried to get up, but his body stubbornly refused, limbs failing to obey any of his frantic commands. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of terror and confusion, ‘I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die’ ‘help, please no’ ‘wheres Thorin?’, they all swirled together making it impossible to think clearly.

He tried to scream, to call out for help, but the sound that came out was pitifully weak, barely more than a desperate whisper. He blinked away his tears as his vision began to narrow. 

He had no sense of time, no way of knowing how long he lay there, struggling to breathe, to move. It could have been seconds or hours; it all blurred together in a haze.

Then, through the fog, he heard it, the familiar sound of boots thumping they’re way up the path. Bilbo’s heart leaped with a flicker of hope, and with a desperate strength, he forced his body to move. 

He rolled over onto his side, dragging himself forward with trembling arms. The effort was agonizing, and a scream tore from his throat, louder this time, ripping his throat raw.

Before he knew anything else Óin was there. The healer knelt beside him, his hands moving swiftly. “Stay awake for me, lad,” Óin muttered, his voice gruff but concerned.

Bilbo whimpered in response, the pressure in his chest easing away slightly as Óin worked. Bilbo gasped, drawing in a deeper breath than before, but it wasn’t enough. 

The darkness was still there, hovering on the edge of his vision, wanting, clawing for him. He felt Óin’s arms scoop him up.

“Keep your eyes open, now.” Óin’s panic was clear, “you’ll be alright lad, come on.” Óins panic pierced through the haze that was clouding Bilbo’s mind.

Bilbo tried to hold on, really he tried, but it was no use. The darkness was too strong, its grip tightening around him. Óin’s voice became a distant echo, fading further and further away until there was nothing but silence. 

After that Óin refused to leave his side, and if he did it wasn't for long, more then once Bilbo would devolve into random fits and when he’d come to and Óin would be holding him tightly.

Bilbo’s fever had returned, worse than before, and the wound on his head began to fester strangely. Dark thoughts crept into every corner of Bilbo’s mind as the sickness took its hold.

Bilbo struggled to remember what happened, or how to keep his memories straight but he remembered when he began to hear the whispers.

they would come and go from him, often more at night. They seemed to come from the walls or the deep inky shadows that crept and shifted in the darkness. 

The few things he could remember was how the whispers were soft, lullingly quiet and almost relaxing. But then they grew louder, the whispers began to change and warp, to something he had never heard before. 

He could hear snatches of an otherworldly melody, haunting and distant, followed by a deep, resonant humming that sent shivers down his spine.

“Do you hear that?” he asked Óin one night.

Óin frowned. “Hear what, lad?” Óin asked as he slowly stopped what he was doing and made his way to Bilbo’s side

“The voices… the music,” Bilbo whispered.

Óin exchanged a worried glance with Gandalf, who too began staying at Bilbo’s side. “There’s no music, Bilbo,” Gandalf said gently. “It’s just your mind playing tricks, you’re alright.”

But Bilbo was not convinced. The whispers, the singing grew louder, sometimes forming words he could almost understand, other times dissolving into soft laughter or high-pitched, eerie tones that seemed to bounce off the walls. 

“Am I…am I going mad,” he whined as he looked at Óin, clutching the sheets tightly. “I don’t want to go mad Óin make the music stop, make it stop, stop, stop!.”

Bilbo had gripped at his hair desperately, he felt rough hands take his and untangle them from his hair “don’t do that lad. yer not going mad, I promise I’m not going to let ya go mad, okay?”

Bilbo didn’t remember what he said after that, the next thing he did remember was how he felt as if he were being watched, at all times, but whenever he turned to look, there was nothing there. He felt unseen eyes burning into him, watching his every move.

He remembered how his sleep became restless, filled with nightmares of dark corridors and shadowy figures. He would wake up drenched in sweat, gasping for air, his heart racing.

One  he could remember vividly, he didn't think he could ever forget. He dreamt of Thorin, standing tall as he always did, his blue eyes piercing and determined. 

But then, the dream shifted. Thorin was surrounded by orcs, their dark forms swirling like a storm around them. Blood, thick and dark, oozed down Bilbo's arms. 

Bilbo tried to run, to get to Thorin but his feet wouldn’t move. Suddenly, a sharp blade sliced through the air, embedding itself into Thorin’s side.

Thorin reached out to Bilbo, his eyes wide with pain and fear. “Bilbo…” he whispered before collapsing to the ground. Bilbo screamed.

He woke up with a start, screaming still. “No! No! Thorin, no- wait, please, no! You can’t!” He thrashed against the sheets, tears streaming down his face. 

Someone grabbed his arm, the voice spoke softly, rumbling in tone. but their voice was lost in the roaring thunder in his ears.

Suddenly, Gandalf was there, his arms wrapping around Bilbo, pulling him close. “It’s alright, Bilbo,” Gandalf whispered, his voice steady but filled with concern. “You’re alright. Hush now. What you saw isn’t real; it didn’t happen.”

But Bilbo shook his head frantically, the tears coming faster. “No! It happened, Gandalf! I saw it -I saw it happen! I saw it!”

From that night on, Bilbo’s fever worsened. It became even harder for him to distinguish between his dreams and reality, Bilbo's mind was beginning to blur memories and images, facts and fictions.

He had lost all meaning to any sound other than the whispers. The walls seemed to close in on him, and the shadows danced just out of reach, taunting him.

He felt as though he were sinking, the weight of his own body pressing him down. He tried to move, to speak, but his limbs felt heavy, like lead.

Bilbo’s mouth refused to form the words. He felt trapped in his own mind, a prisoner to the fever that burned through him.

In his fevered state, he often found himself standing in an endless void, a blackness so deep it seemed to swallow all light. He would whip his head around desperately for anything familiar, but there was nothing, just the dark, endless void. 

Then the ground beneath him would shift, and he would feel himself falling, spiraling down into an abyss with no end.

He heard chanting, deep voices singing in a language he didn’t understand. The sound was everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through him, filling him with a strange mix of dread and awe. 

He tried to cover his ears, but the sound was inside his head, reverberating through his very bones. “Gandalf,” he whimpered, “make it stop. Please, make it stop.”

Gandalf was always there, by his side, whispering soothing words, but Bilbo could hardly understand them. The words began to sound like rolling thunder, and soon even Gandalf’s voice was lost in the noise.

Bilbo felt himself slipping further away, the world around him growing darker, colder. The room spun, and Bilbo felt panic grip it's cold claws into him again. He didn’t want to lose his grip on reality. He didn’t want to fall into the darkness that waited at the edge of his mind. But he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t fight it. The darkness was pulling him down, down into its cold embrace.

He could hear his own heartbeat slowing, the music growing louder, consuming him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, there was only the music, the haunting, terrifying music.

Just when he thought he couldn’t bear it any longer, he heard a new sound,a clear, strong voice cutting through the chaos. It called his name. “Bilbo!” the voice rumbled, filled with fear and urgency. “Don’t ya dare, lad! Come on! Damn it, breathe!”

Bilbo’s eyes snapped open, he took a deep breath as his surroundings began to come back to him, he couldn’t help the cry that escaped him as his chest throbbed in pain, someone took his face in their larger hands.

“That’s it, breathe, deep breaths. Come on, stay awake lad” Óin’s voice rumbled close to his ear. The dwarf let go of his face and turned to Gandalf. “Keep him with us, Gandalf.”

Gandalf’s face appeared in Bilbo’s blurred vision as the wizard held his arms tightly. “Fight for us, Bilbo. Come on. You must fight it. Think of Thorin! The blasted dwarf is always late, isn’t he?”

But Bilbo was so tired, so very tired. His body ached, his head throbbed, and he felt as if he were being pulled in a thousand different directions. 

The world around him blurred again, and he felt himself beginning to drift. “I’m tired… Gandalf,” he whispered softly, his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep awake.

Gandalf held him tighter. “No! No, no, no, hold on, Bilbo. Hold on!” He glanced over his shoulder, panic flickering in his eyes. “Óin!”

But it was too late. The darkness came again, enveloping Bilbo in its cold, endless embrace. And it was horrible.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Note:

I’ll be editing chapter 5 if you need me. Have a good day/night.

@m4yh4ps @bllbabaggins

[banana-pancake5]

19 for sisters a dimension apart

And 41 for letter from my future self?

Sisters a dimension apart short story: Bedtimes (19: De-aged)

(This is sometime before they’re 10yr but besides that the age is up to interpretation)

———

“Fi Fi! Fi Fi! How was your training with Dad?” Vita excitedly ran up to her sister, quickly bouncing to a stop so she didn’t collide. When she came to a stop she cocked her head to the side and continued with genuine curiosity, “Was it good?”

Frida was perched on a bench with her hands pressed hard against the wood as she tried to catch her breath. She had always been easily worn out from Dad’s training, especially with the magic stuff he was trying to get her to do. Her arms shook ever so slightly with each breath she took. “I- it was fine,” she said between breaths, “how was your training?”

“Hmph,” Vita huffed with arms tightly crossed over her plastron, “why wasn’t it good?”

Frida finally caught her breath and slowed her breathing to a normal pace. She placed both her hands in her lap and her fingers idly began fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around them, “Y’know I don’t like Dad’s training… it just makes me tired, that’s it. But really, what about yours?”

“But Dad’s training is so funnnnnnn! I don’t get why you don’t like it.” Vita hopped up on the bench beside Frida and took a seat, “Mine was awesome! I learned how to make lil zappy things fly from my fingers! Oh, look look look!!!” Vita tightly shut her eyes and began wiggling her fingers in the air. After a minute or two, when Frida began to believe she was just making it up, a small spark flew from fingertip and popped into the air with a small crackle. Vita opened her eyes and stared at Frida expectedly, “Did you see it? Was it awesome?”

“Cool,” Frida’s tone was uninterested, but that was far from the truth. She was actually excited and fascinated, as would any child be when shown a magic trick. She leaned down and inspected Vita’s hands with a puzzled expression, “How did it happen?”

Vita’s expression soured to a pout, longing for a gasp or applause at her amazing feat, but she tried to answer her sister’s question nonetheless, “hm. Well I just focused really hard and Poof! Magic!”

Frida nodded intently and stored those words in her mind for later.

“Girls, get ready for bed,” Draxum shouted with a stern tone from the distance.

“Yes, sir,” Frida replied as she hopped off the bench.

Vita looked at Frida with an expression of disgust and confusion at Frida’s compliance and mouthed the words ‘ but it’s so early!? ’

Frida’s only response was a mischievous smirk that spread across her face and kept walking.

Vita followed in suit of her sister with the sense that she had a plan. Hugin and Munin accompanied them and helped them get ready for sleep. Frida and Vita shared a bunkbed, Vita happily perched on the top bed with Frida content below. They both were tucked in by the two bats and closed their eyes for the night, but once Hugin and Munin left the room, Frida sneakily climbed up the ladder and whispered to her sister, “Pssst, Vee! Are you really about to go to bed?”

“Um… yeah? Dad said to didn’t he?” Vita whispered back with in confusion.

“Well technically he said to go to bed. We are in bed aren’t we? He didn’t say we needed to sleep!”

“Ohhhhh, heheheh”

Vita and Frida stayed up much later than their bedtime that night. The whole night chatting about the most random things and laughing until it hurt. After every fit of laughter they’d shush each other in fear that Draxum would hear, but lucky for them he never did. They talked until their eyes drooped and their heads bobbed down from the call of sleep. They dosed off sprawled out on Vita’s bed with their arms and legs over each others.

~The End~

MasterPost //

———

Just a little fluff short story from when Vita and Frida were kids :D this was rlly fun to write thanks for the prompt Jade!

Gonna go ahead and tag the tag list: @/jadetheblueartist @exhaustedwriterartist @cookiedoesart64 @anglepsycho @its-the-chicken-nugg :D

(I will make a separate post for 41 because I want to be able to link them to their master posts with no confusion!)

[themadsquirrel09]

Find you ☆ Chapter 1

Fandom ☆ South Park

Ship ☆ KenMan ♡ KenEric (Eric Cartman x Kenny McCormick), Clybe (Bebe StevensxClyde Donovan) and Creek (Tweek TweakxCraig Tucker). There might be some glimpses of other ships.

Characters ☆ Kenny McCormick, Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovsky, Stan Marsh, Liane Cartman.

Rating ☆ M

Warnings ☆ Swearing, violence, fluffiness. They are aged up here. It starts when they are 14 but happens mostly when they are 18, at the last year of school. 

Summary ☆ Cartman has to move out of South Park when he is 14, but he makes a promise to Kenny before he goes away, will he keep it?

About it ☆ I wrote the first version of Find you years ago, it seems that before 2010, so yeah, it was horribly cringy to re-read, but also inspiring, so I decided to make it better, keeping the name and some stuff I like about the old version, but changing most of it and continuing where I left it. I have my own way to navigate things, if it maybe gets confusing, feel free to ask me.

☆ 636 words ☆

Love, (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Stan

“Hugin and Munin fly every day

across the Gaping Ground.

I worry that Hugin may not return,

but I am more worried about Munin.”

The colors of the sunset get mixed in the tears I can’t contain. He pulls me into a hug and I hold him close. I don't know how much time passes, I didn’t know I had so many tears for him. 

Liane’s voice breaks the moment.

“Sweetie, we should go.”

“Come on, Ken,” says Stan, placing a hand on my shoulder. I see Eric’s face, tears are falling, but he has a calm expression, then he lets out a devilish smile, grabs my hand and we run out of there.

“Let’s go to Stark's Pond!” We get there between laughs and sobs. “Stop crying, asshole, you are making me cry.”

“No, you are making me cry, Kenny!” He looks at me with clear eyes; we are so close to the pond I can see the dancing water reflected on them. I wrap him into an embrace. Why do you have to be soft?

“Don’t go.” He hugs me back and I enjoy his warmth.

“And what do I do then, live in your house? You are poor!” The laughs mitigate the tears. “For now I have to go, but I want to come back,” He holds me by the arms, with an intense gaze he promises: “I’ll find you again, ok?”

I don’t know what to reply, it is Cartman the one talking, but he seems serious about it, so I just nod. We hang out there for a while, thinking of ways to keep in touch and making plans that might never come true. After a while, a car honks at us; it is Liane. He shoots a glance of disgust at her, but his expression shifts when he turns and smiles at me.

“See you, Kenny,” Eric says sweetly, then he is gone.

☆ 4 years later ☆

Since Cartman moved out it has only been the three of us, we stick together somehow. I find myself thinking about Eric in the bad times, but mostly in the good times; that’s when I really wish he was here.

I get close to the bus stop and see my friends in the distance.

“Hi, guys!”

“Hey, Kenny!”

“I thought you weren't coming,” Stan says, I shrug. 

“I don't feel like staying in the house all day long.” 

“But you are sick,” Kyle insists.

“I don't give a fuck,” I reply, smiling. He frowns. 

“Fine!… What did Cartman say?” 

“He asked if you finally got sucked by your own jewfro.” Stan chuckles and Kyle looks up at his hair busting out from a hat that he doesn't dig like the one from our childhood.

“That fucker,” He looks pissed, but then he grins. “How’s he doing?” The bus arrives and we keep talking as we step in, then I take the window's side. Eric moved to New York when we were fourteen, 4 years ago. We are far away, but it seems he has changed for good. Maybe I'm really sick if I think someone like Cartman has changed.

It is our last year of school; the same people and very unusual situations. It is South Park after all. When I was little I thought alien abductions, cosmic horrors and endless deaths were something that just happened. Sometimes I wonder why do I stay?... Karen, that’s the easy answer, but this place also feels right for me; this town where all the weirdness unfolds and I’m just part of the unexplained. 

I also have this strong hunch, like I’m waiting for something that will happen soon.

Next

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All kinds of support are really appreciated! ♡ 

If you want to help me keep writing, you can buy me a coffee here ☕

You can also commission me, here you have the info 💌

[popculturebuffet]

Reply to the Evil League of Mutants Review

Also the shot during the song of Draxum clearly marveling at not just Lou Jitsu but specifically Lou's shredded abs was a fun bit as a less subtle bit of coding for Draxum wanting to use the man for more than just his fighting ability if you know what I mean.

-------------------------

There is.. no straight explanation for that especailly in context as while it's later explained Hugin and Muinin found Lou... for most fans it'd come off ad Draxum TOLD THEM about his abs. And even then "cheesy action hero whose films I didn't enjoy" has VERY bitter ex energy, combined with the fact that Draxum recognizing the fish and ladder technique means he did in fact watch Lou's films. I can see him just ... bitterly watching them nitpicking them to death every night. "See you can clearly see the stunt performer!"

[yohohonabottle]

Potion mishaps - Optional bonus chapter!

Walking up the street towards the Golden Guest, the disheveled intel-broker takes out the rolled up parchment from his bag and skims through his notes, mind whirring with questions. The potion that scoundrel threw at him packed quite the remarkable punch, twisted him into a madman in less than a day...And somehow he still got away with just a couple of sporadic pulsating migraines. Those were something else, short, barely more than five seconds- But damn did it feel like Hugin was hammering at his skull with full force.

Hey! At least they stopped the second the corruption whizzed off! Still, it just doesn't add up...

—"How come the hex wore off so quickly..? I swear it had me by the throat like a kraken. Not that I'm complaining- Barring the short migraines..." The 'little ghost' flashes his partner a small, innocently Cheshire smile. A look that Sinbad catches from the corner of his eye and gives the mischievous rascal a suspicious look, lowering the scroll he is reading. "...Pirin?  What did you do to me?" 

—"I infused a spark of my own magic when I was holding onto your shoulders." A simple reply that leaves him incredulous. —"You what now?" 

—"It's.. a complicated process to explain. Just, think of it like getting a small shot of penicillin." Uh-huh, sure. One hell of a penicillin then. Not very happy with the cure, but it still did as intended, didn't it? And besides, it's not like Pirin would ever hurt him. Not intentionally, not if he's in his right mind. Or so Sinbad hopes, taking the leap of faith to place his trust in the mage that has become more than just his companion.

Doubt still lingers briefly, old habits die hard as they say.

It still baffles and humbles him how the man chose to implicitly put full faith in him, going off of nothing but innate intuition that works as a lie-detector in a way, despite having been bitten countless times over in the past. Being willing to forgive like this, without agreeing or being compliant and submissive with someone's wrongdoings... In a way, he is a saint. On the other hand, the captain knows for himself that he can't wrap his mind around the concept like that. Not yet. If someone were to do to him half the things that the vampire had been through- A part of him would be livid beyond measure for many long years. Possibly want for revenge and justice at the same time, or maybe crumble.

Pushing the memories aside, Sinbad refocuses back to the present. No need for gloomy reminiscing.  

—"In short- You drove away the curse with a strong bout of magic. And the migraines were the cure at work." Fascinating. —"...Yes. Sorry for that flash-bang heal, you were spiraling too quickly and I had to act fast." By now the magic has dissipated entirely from his body, not even the warm and light tingling of it present. It's so strange, how his mind feels much clearer now. Like a massive amounts of junk has been thrown away. 

Did you also slip in a benediction while at it? 

The question must have shown on his face, because the critter only gives a shrug. Which, isn't exactly a solid answer. Figuring he'd find out on his own, and secretly appreciating the consideration, the sailor lets the topic slide.

For a long moment a comfortable silence hangs between the two of them, broken up only by the soft clunk of and tunk of their boots on the cobblestone. And then a very soft, hardly stifled snicker that sounds like a snort, followed by another. And another, bit louder- less of a snort this time.

The tall, caramel-skinned seafarer casts a sidelong glance at his companion, unsure what to make of it or whether to be concerned. The deathly man is grinning from ear to ear and struggling to school it into a neutral expression, covering his face with one hand, shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. 

What are you laughing about?   Pirin is positively red-faced from poorly holding back, trying his best not to cackle like a hyena- Giggling and snickering instead. 

Finally unable to take it any longer and keep his piqued curiosity at bay (And also creeping worry for the man he's come to love), Sinbad speaks up.

—"Are you alright, Ioan?" Almost broke the dam it seems. God, his laugh is infectious. He finds himself grinning as well. So now it's the both of them out here, giggling around like idiots. More like grinning, but it's getting there. His inquiry only appears to make whatever mental images the vampire has even funnier. Never thought I'd see or hear this guy laugh. And here I am. What a day to live in, eh? Somehow, the thrill-lover gets the distinct feeling that the silly things going through that pretty head have something to do with him. 

—"It's..so stupid- I can't, I'm sorry." -Poor man chokes out between fits of chortling, fighting to wrestle them down. Patiently, the blond adventurer gives him a moment to compose himself. Enough so he's not a sniggering mess. Deeming himself calm enough to talk coherently after catching his breath, Pirin at long last sheds light on what's been setting off his funny bone. "Back when you introduced yourself to me, my dumb brain actually misheard it as 'Sindad'. I'm not kidding." Sinbad snorts. 

—"Gotta hand it to you, my siren. I knew you were smitten, but I didn't think you'd be that down bad."  —"I know! It's so dumb. So there I was, awkwardly staying mute and desperately avoiding to use your name, while having 'Sindad' in my mind and sweating bullets whenever I saw or had to speak to you directly." 

—"You could have asked me to tell you my name again, you know?" Pirin glances to the side with a short, languid raise of his owl-like eyebrows--like shrugging with them--still softly smiling then looks back up at him. —"I was too embarrassed. Furthermore it took me a good four weeks to finally get it right in my head, and really pay attention when others said your name over and over like parrots." Giving a light amused shake of his head, Sinbad turns his gaze back ahead while still listening to his partner. "Same with poor Bols. I don't know why my brain kept adding a 'W' in his name." This one makes him let out a small puff of laughter. 

—"Bowls, huh? Yeah, I can see the connection."  —"Worst part is that I often mishear or misread things even though I'm paying close attention and trying to remember them correctly. I just keep flipping and swapping numbers and letters, or completely alter to something else. Like that one time I overheard a fisherman grumbling about his haul not selling well on the market and heard 'wish' instead. I had to do plenty of double-takes this year.." 

—"And what's the silliest misread you've had?" At this the magister falls quiet, looking on ahead and he raises an eyebrow. 

—"Look, I swear I don't have it out for Bols- Okay?" 

—"I believe you. Can't be that bad anyway, right?" 

—"It's really out of pocket." How outlandish can it possibly be?

The brown-eyed charmer gives a quick raise of his burly eyebrows as though to say 'go on.', looking down at him. A second passes.

—"...Golden goose. I red the sign as 'Golden goose'." The seaside savant shrugs nonchalantly with a 'Eh, close enough.' and once again returns his eyes on the path. Meanwhile Pirin stares at the unrolled paper in his hands, noticing how his jolly sailor still hasn't put it away and just looks on ahead somewhat absently. Completely distracted and having forgotten about the scroll that he had been reading. Well this is one way to look busy. However he doesn't say anything to point it out and turns to look on ahead as well while keeping a discreet eye on the other. Curious as to when the rugged man would notice. 

The inn comes closer into view, a warm light from its windows accompanied by rowdy voices. A clap of thunder booms overhead as the skies have turned gloomy and rain starts to drizzle. Typical weather antics. Well, at least it held off for a good while today- A surly evening with rain won't be bad. Sinbad rolls up the notes again, tucking them back into the bag slung over his shoulder. A drop lands on the crown of his head, then another. Looking up and lifting a hand, another drop lands on his palm. 

—"The rain's picking up. We should probably duck at the tavern before we get soaked like rats." -He mutters absently, watching as a lightning flashes in the distance and a low rumble follows it a few seconds later along with soft rustling of fabric. The downpour around them hisses. Looking down, the scarred weasel almost looses breath at the sight, eyes glued.

The drenched shirt clings tightly to Pirin's sleek form like second skin, accentuating every curve, line and dip-- ghostly skin looking like made of alabaster and hair sleeked with water, curled up and darkened to silver. However the magister looks entirely unfazed, as if this is a regular Tuesday and getting soaked to the bone is a normal everyday occurrence.

Holding his red tailcoat, Pirin lifts it up in an attempt to use it as a makeshift umbrella and cover both of them. Draping it over himself, he lifts the other end higher up, but unfortunately Sinbad is too tall and out of reach. Already his messy hair is drenched, bangs sticking to his forehead with just one rum-hued eye visible, gaping at him as though hypnotized.  Clicking his tongue with a faint scowl, the 'siren' gives his shoulder a light swat, muttering

—"Hunch over a little and get closer, will ya?"-- Finally snapping the intel-trader out of his trance. Wrapping him in a side-hug and bowing slightly as requested--or chided--the seawolf takes the offered end, and drapes it over himself as well. 

—"Let's get inside. Believe me, it's no fun having a cold for a week." Another boom of thunder rumbles and crackles, the torrential downpour turning even worse. 

[alfredofwessex69]

"I heard what I heard from Hugin." I reply.

"Lord King, I beg you, tell me why. Why must you drive him from his land. Why must you drive us from your land? Has Uhtred not served you loyaly?" I pull his forehead against mine, my voice lowering into a husky lull. "Alfred please, please let us defend Coccham on our own merit. We have done it now for so long."

Alfred breath hitches in his throat as you close the distance between the two of you.

“He does not show fealty, my dear. I do not trust him. I cannot trust him,” he lets out a shaky breath. “I must protect my Kingship, my land, my people…”

He moves away from you, his voice raising in a stern, authoritative manner.

“He shows no appreciation for that Land, nor anything I’ve granted him. He only speaks in spite and ignorance. Even the journey here was laced with his own contempt… he refuses fealty. He dances the line between loyalty and betrayal,”

“You will move your family to Winchester. You will speak none of this to the Lord Uhtred, lest you become an enemy of the crown, as the Irishman is now.”

[imagine-loki]

Loki's Witchlings

TITLE: Loki’s Witchlings (Loki and the Witchling part 2)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 37/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a healer working with the Avengers when Loki comes to join the team

RATING: T (so far) 

NOTES/WARNINGS: This is a direct sequel to Loki and the Witchling.  Also on AO3 click here

Odin was a dick. He was a shit parent and not a good king.  Not really.  He’d changed in the past few years. He was great at being a grandfather.  That didn’t excuse him from his past crimes.

“I saved them,” he tried to protest while the court looked on, looked at the evidence of his crime in front of him. The valkyrie were still crumpled where they’d fallen, too weak from having spent centuries in raven form.  

Loki’s nose wrinkled at Odin’s blatant lie.  “It is unwise to lie in my presence father, or have you forgotten what my godhood is?” Loki asked coldly, sneering the word ‘father’.  He loved Hugin and Munin since he was a child.  They’d followed him along on adventures with Thor to protect the young princelings.  Neither of them had known, at the time, of course, but they knew now that they’d been protected by Valkyrie.  

You hated that Loki’s relationship with Odin was shattering again under all the secrets coming to light.  They had just started to repair it.  There was no helping it.  Odin had to pay for what he did to the valkyrie.  Not just to Hugin and Munin.

You would comfort Loki and be there for him later.  Right now, justice had to be served.  That was why you had a second chance at life.  Hela wanted this wrong against her valkyrie righted.   She was the patron goddess of the valkyrie.  

Odin glared at his son.  Before he could open his mouth again to spill more lies, you spoke, your wings flaring out behind you, making you look more menacing and reminding the entire court that you were a valkyrie now too.  “You ordered the valkyrie to fight against Hela when you were banishing her,” you announced, reminding the court, reminding the realm what had happened.  Most of them didn’t even seem to remember that Odin had a daughter.

It was no surprise that he would wipe their memories to hide what he’d done. 

Magic surrounded you as you spoke, spread and reminded the people.  It wasn’t your magic.  It wasn’t Loki’s.  Frigga had arrived, summoned by someone, but it wasn’t her magic either. You didn’t know whose it was at first. It wasn’t important at the moment, not really.  The story was important and it flowed through you, not even truly feeling like your own words.

“You knew full well that Hela was their patron goddess and they would lose going up against her, but every valkyrie is bound to obey the throne of Asgard, so they couldn’t fight your orders.  They were all massacred by Hela in the fight.  Except for two. Odin ordered Hugin and Munin to stay behind.  The only two valkyrie left on Asgard.

He’d sacrificed all of their sisters in order to banish their goddess. And there was nothing any of them could do about it.”

The court gasped at your words, at the truth they heard and remembered.  

The magic around you crackled and you took Loki’s hand.  It wasn’t either of your magic. 

The crackling got worse and a portal opened in front of you with black and green magic.  “Thank you, Sigyn,” Hela said as she stepped through with Fenrir striding in behind her.  

“You’re banished,” Odin spluttered, unable to think of something better to say.  

Hela rolled her eyes.  “I come to seek justice, as is my right as the queen of Helheim.  Don’t fret.  I won’t be on your realm long.  The realm has heard your crimes, father,” she sneered the word, just as Loki had done.  “You have harmed the valkyrie under my care for too long and things must change. Now,”

“What do you want?” Odin actually sounded afraid of his daughter and you understood why.  He was vicious as he taught her to be and in the height of her power, while Odin was at the end of his.  

“You to pay for what you’ve done,” Hela replied easily.  “And for the valkyrie to be allowed back on Asgard where they belong.  Their numbers have swelled in Helheim and they are finally strong again,”

The crowd was, of course, focused on the first part of that statement.  So were you and Loki.  But it was Frigga who made the first move.  “Darling?” She asked with tears in her eyes.  Her baby was home.  She shouldn’t have been there, shouldn’t have been home.  She was banished, but Frigga didn’t care.  She rushed to hug her baby, loving all her children equally.  

Hela smiled and hugged her mama.  “Hello, mother,” she said gently.  “I missed you too.  And I’m sorry for this, but father cannot be allowed to hurt the valkyrie anymore,” she said gently.  No one could deny their love for mama Frigga.  She still held Frigga in her arms as she turned her attention back to Odin.  “As queen of Helheim, I sentence you for your crimes against the citizens of my realm,”

“Hela, no,” Frigga tried to protest. 

“It’ll be alright, mother,” Hela soothed as Odin stood to protest.  “I’m not going to hurt him.  Yet.  Enjoy your remaining years of life father.  Cherish every single moment.  For the second you get to my realm, you will pay.  In the meantime…” she gestured and magic surrounded Odin before anyone could stop her.  “You will surrender the throne to your heir and relinquish what powers remain to you.  You do not deserve to be Allfather, but I will not strip mother of her husband, not until it is your day to come to Helheim,” 

Odin gasped as his powers were ripped from him with Hela’s magic.  The Odinforce, the magic that made Odin Allfather, flew to Loki and Gungnir appeared in Loki’s hand.  Loki fell to his knees beside you as the magic filled him.  You caught him and eased him down.  “Loki!”

Hela smirked over at the pair of you.  “I had hoped it would be you, little brother,” she said fondly.  She kissed Frigga’s forehead.  “It will be alright, mother,” she said.  “And I will see you again someday, when the time comes,” 

With that, Hela left you all, returning to Helheim through her portal as everyone stared in shock at what had just happened. 

[notallthosewho-wanderarelost]

Thanks for tagging me, @beheworthy ! I really appreciate it. :) The video has already been taken down by Disney but I managed to watch it via a different post.

Reblogging again because I posted my analysis in the tags when I really should have typed it up in the post properly. So just to copy and clean up my own tags here:

Some thoughts: I love just about every part of this scene up to when they start breaking up. The one thing I think is weird is the transition from the end of the battle to Jane’s house. i much prefer what we got in the final movie, it’s much less awkward and gives things more breathing room. (It also doesn’t involve Thor randomly being unconscious for three days to the point where they were worried he would die? I never got the sense that the battle with Malekith was quite THAT strenuous for him, so it seems a little out of nowhere imo.)

Things I liked a lot:

Domestic Thor in Earth clothes

Odin acknowledging that Jane is incredible and that Thor was doing the right thing both re: his actions in this movie against Malekith & in pursuing his relationship with Jane despite the obstacles in the way.

Honestly, it’s neat seeing Odin in Earth clothes too. Continuing the trend of fashionable Asgardians in Earth clothes. The old-fashioned gray three-piece suit is a nice costuming choice, very in character.

Jane telling Thor she loves him. LOVE THAT.

The way the scene- even after they break up- treats Thor and Jane’s love as this great fated thing, as something that saves the universe, instead of a minor fling or an inconvenience from superheroics. I hate that they break up but at least it’s done with respect. (Unlike how R*gnarok handled it and unlike the attitude many people at Marvel seem to have about the relationship.)

Also that kiss. It’s a great kiss, I’m glad we finally got to see it in full.

And I do really like that even though they were basically forced to break up by circumstances (read: the studio/writers/directors/whoever it was behind the scenes) they both still truly love each other, and they both clearly show it even as they’re saying goodbye to each other. Those looks they both give each other as Thor leaves are really nice.

It’s so good to see Darcy again!!! I forget sometimes how much I miss her. And she’s such great comedic relief. I’m so excited to see her return in Wandavision. (Also, I agree with her here. Lol.)

Lastly, I like seeing everyone on Asgard react to Thor’s return; I like seeing all the Asgardians in general! Because I love them all. It’s also really nice to see Asgard properly one more time. (Instead of the pale poorly-designed shadow of it that they’ve shown us after this movie. Thor 1 Asgard is still best Asgard though imo. Thor 2 Asgard is second-best though.)

Also very cool to see the actual footage of Thor with Hugin and Munin, after seeing bloopers of that shot so many times.

Things I didn’t like:

How the scene EXPLICITLY goes on about how Thor is not of earth and needs to only ever be on Asgard. And especially how it’s JANE who says it. That she can’t picture Thor living on earth with her at all, ever.

Like. Thor in comics has an Entire THING about how he fights FOR EARTH and loves it so friggin much. I’m thinking of that comics page during one Ragnarok or another (Siege maybe? Not sure, but it’s something relatively recent) where it’s Odin, Thor, and Loki, and their battle cries are ‘For Asgard!’ ‘For Midgard!’ and ‘For Myself!’ respectively.

And also the whole thing in Jason Aaron’s Thor: God of Thunder run where Thor loving Earth and being of it is a running theme. Thor as a superhero- as an Avenger- is OF Earth. It’s his home just as much as Asgard is. It’s why he spends so much time there. He’s an Avenger exactly because he loves the Earth and its people. He fights for them.

And the MCU version of that was so clearly shown in Thor 1 with Thor’s time in Puente Antiguo and how much it impacted him, that to now say ‘Earth is not in any way Thor’s home’ makes no sense. Asgard is Thor’s home, but so is Earth. And it’s his home of choice, no less. He’s of both and loves and fights for both and that’s the whole point.

Also I obviously don’t like the idea of Thor and Jane breaking up. At all.

But that is an especially bs reason. I could understand if they’d written it as them having tried to make it work for a while and Jane getting fed up with the long distance thing because Thor would ditch her for years without any warning. They planted the seeds for that enough that while I wouldn’t like it it would feel true to the characters. Them breaking up because Thor must ALWAYS be on Asgard and isn’t capable of making a life on Earth with Jane that he would be content with? Doesn’t feel right to me at all.

And I don’t understand the point story-wise of having them break up because his place is being king on Asgard. Like @beheworthy said- it’s not a good jumping off point for a new story. And especially not for an Avengers story, which we all know was planned to be where we see him next. How is he supposed to be an Avenger if his place is meant to only be on Asgard like this scene is telling us it is?

Plus, to repeat what @beheworthy said again, if Thor’s going to actually become king of Asgard onscreen, that should be the culmination of his three-movie arc, not the midpoint. It’s an extremely odd way to end his second movie.

Anyway. I could probably go on but I’m gonna stop there.

There are parts of this scene I really really like, a lot. But overall I’m very glad this was cut and we got 2+ years of domestic Fosterson in trade, even if it happened offscreen. More time if you go in real time instead of in-universe. I’m really glad I got to enjoy canon Thor/Jane for all that extra time until R*gnarok. (I’m also really glad we got Loki not dying for real, and the seeds of an interesting plotline in him pretending to be Odin even if R*gnarok did nothing with that, but that’s a comment for another post.)

I’m still hoping we see Thor and Jane get back together in Thor 4, but this scene only seems to reinforce how much people behind the scenes dislike the relationship and seem to want them broken up. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed but my expectations low for now. Here’s hoping that at least they’re acknowledged as important to each other even if they aren’t together romantically anymore, the way their dynamic was written in Aaron’s comic run. :)

Lastly: the way this break-up goes makes me more curious about Patty Jenkins’ version of this movie. Which supposedly had the “starcrossed lovers” theme as a really major part of the movie, instead of just kind of implied ocassionally like we ended up getting. (Until this scene abruptly hits you over the head with it out of nowhere, that is. Maybe it was more present in the earlier Alan Taylor version as well?) I’m now wondering if maybe the reason Patty left the movie in the first place was that people (studio execs, Feige, someone else?) wanted Thor and Jane broken up in the movie and she refused to end it like that. The way she and Natalie have talked about her version makes it sound like Thor and Jane’s relationship was really central to the overall plot, even more than it is in the version we got. I guess we’ll never know, but it’s something this scene makes me think about.

Did you see the Dark World deleted scene from the Infinity Saga? Someone uploaded it to YouTube. And Jane finally says “I love you” to Thor!!

@notallthosewho-wanderarelost had been searching for it for a long time. Thank you for showing us the way. 

But I gotta say, I hate it. I’m glad it was changed.

I appreciate Jane for doing the right thing. Keeping Thor for herself would have been selfish. So good on my girl for making him go be the King. But. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out the narrative purpose it would serve for Thor’s arc to have him be reset in the starting position again. *cough* Steve Endgame *cough*

Thor is back in Asgard as the King. Odin is chilling in his chambers. Loki and Frigga are dead. Jane is history now… How do you begin the third movie from here? How can Ragnarok happen if Thor and Odin are well and alive in Asgard?? How can Avengers have him for their adventures????

And I cannot stress this enough, but I don’t want Thor/Jane broken up. End of. I have spoken. One good thing to come out of this clip is the kiss we’d been dying to see. AND DOMESTIC THOR.

[huginsmemory]

TRICK OR TREAT 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

TREAT FOR YOU!!!! PELICAN BY EMMANUEL FREMIET 1896 BE UPON YE🫀🍂🍁🎃❤️

[mcusoulmateau]

hela, goddess of death

The day Hela’s soulmark appears, she is faced with a problem: Odin.

 Her youth was blissfully soulmark-free, and she had even begun to think she might be one of those lucky few to never get one. No pressure to find one person, no insistence on marriage, nothing to come between her and her blades and the battlefield. She can see what a soulmark does to Odin, how he is so anxious to track down his Frigga. (She isn’t supposed to know his mark, but she snuck a peek while he was in the Odinsleep. She’s had half a mind to find a Frigga herself and kill the bitch before she can distract Odin any more than she already has.)

 Her father’s views on soulmates are so limited. She doesn’t need to find someone out there named “Death” to be her husband and co-ruler (as if she would ever co-rule Asgard with anyone, Death or not). Why waste her eternal life looking for Death when she could become Death herself?

 Can she change Asgardian tradition? Can she convince him to throw away millennia of practice so she can rule unattached?

 If Hela is going to propose such a thing, she has to make it an enticing offer. She covers the damned mark on her wrist and starts scheming.

 -

 “Shall we spar this morning, my child?” Odin asks over breakfast. “Your blades are getting sharper each day.”

 “Yes, Father,” Hela replies, conjuring a dagger to twirl between her fingers in between bites of buttered bread.

 Odin’s eyes linger significantly on her wrist, bound with a gold-and-onyx bracelet that was not there the day before. However, he says nothing of it.

 They practice in a courtyard near the armory, a few dozen soldiers at the perimeter ready to join the fight at Odin’s command. Hugin and Munin circle overhead, no doubt whispering to the Allfather about Hela’s every move.

 “What is the most powerful object in the universe?” Hela asks, sending a knife to her father’s face.

 He deflects it with his spear. “Is this a riddle you ask, or are you hoping to add to our treasure vault a new trinket?”

 “Merely a question for the wisest man I know.”

 Odin jabs at her with his spear, forcing her to conjure a sword to parry the blow. She has only just begun to craft blades large enough for swordplay, and the act takes more energy out of her than she cares to admit.

 “‘Power’ is a slippery thing to measure.” Her sword glides along his spear with the harsh sound of metal on metal, but he counters her. “A plague may wipe out a civilization, but it cannot mine the earth for gold or power a ship from one world to the next. Does that make a simple pickaxe or lump of coal more powerful than the Skrull Flu?”

 “Now who’s telling riddles?” she asks. They start to move in a circle, weapons locked. One of the blasted birds cries.

 “My father would tell you it is the Aether. It nearly brought ruin to the nine realms and beyond.” They trade a flurry of light blows, none of them meant to cause harm. “Or perhaps it is the Eternal Flame, which could bring about the very destruction of Asgard—and you know as well as I that if Asgard falls, the other worlds will follow swiftly.”

 She wields her sword one-handed and uses the free hand (now sporting a black leather guard instead of her bracelet from breakfast) to send three daggers to her father’s ankles. He yanks his spear away from her and leaps out of the path of the flying blades.

 “And we just happen to have both of these powerful items in our possession,” Hela says dryly.

 “The Aether is not truly ours, child,” he chides, though his tone is gentle. “We have it so that nobody else may make use of it.”

 She sees her opening. She drops her sword, summons a knife in each hand, and charges him. Her dual blades catch the shaft of his spear, and they are again locked in a battle of wills.

 “Why only the Aether, though? Why is it, above the other Infinity Stones, locked away for safekeeping?”

 “The other Stones have not yet been used against Asgard as the Aether was,” Odin says, pushing down on her. Her arms start to ache, but she persists.

 “But they could be. Just imagine the terror that could be wrought on our people by the Power Stone, or the Space Stone. Are we to wait to act until after disaster befalls us?”

 He considers this, and she takes his moment of thought to raise one knife to his throat.

 “Yield,” she orders.

 The soldiers observing them tense.  Hugin and Munin hover near his shoulders, ready to attack her with claws and beaks.

 “I yield,” Odin says. And for the next several days, the whole Asgardian court agrees that their king is rather lost in thought.

 -

 Hela’s ambition outstrips her father’s, but Odin will do anything in the name of Asgardian safety. Even, it turns out, ransack planet after planet in search of the Space Stone, though it takes decades of planning and research before the first drop of blood is spilled in the name of the Stones.

 While her father locks himself in the library, coming out only to meet with advisors who might have a clue about the location of the Stones, Hela turns herself into a weapon. She studies dozens of styles and forms: the photon blades of Maveth; the primitive Midgardian shield, spear, and blade combination; the Xandarians and their Novaforce; the Jotun ice rapiers; the Kree overreliance on bioengineering; the Sakaarans’ serrated cleavers; Xartan mind games. She trains her body in swordplay and martial arts until the ground is slick with her sweat, and every muscle aches, and she does it all again the next day.

 The Asgardian court, the landed gentry, they start whispering about how unbecoming this practice is for a princess. They start wringing their hands and worrying if she or her father will ever marry and ensure succession. They make snide comments that she’d be more likely to find a soulmate if she spent her time and resources on doing something a little more ladylike than fighting.

 Hela prefers the commonfolk, who think of her as a terrifying harbinger of doom.

 This assessment echoes across the Nine Realms once the hunt for the Stones truly begins. Blades fly the moment her heel hits the planet. She can throw daggers fifty yards and still hit her target, can summon swords in both hands to fight hand-to-hand against three at once, can pull claymores from the ground to turn the very landscape into a weapon. But all this is fruitless target practice if the victims around her don’t know anything about the bloody Space Stone and where to find it.

 On their sixth sacking, Hela finally gets a worthwhile lead. She has a scientist under her boot, frantically pleading for his life. He claims he was one of the leading researchers studying the Space Stone when it was in his planet’s possession five years prior.

 “It doesn’t look like a stone anymore!” he cries. “We needed a vessel to harness its power.”

 “Then what does it look like?” she asks, growing bored.

 “How familiar are you with four-dimensional geometry? It’s more than a cube, it’s a—”

 She summons a blade from the ground beneath the man’s neck, skewering him.

 “—a tesseract,” she finishes. She stalks off in the direction of her father, leaving bloody bootprints in her path.

 -

 It is two more years of searching before the Tesseract is in her hands. Hela has expected this moment for longer than some species’ lifetimes, and yet—

 The Aether, the Tesseract, and four more to go. She is one-third of the way to becoming who she is meant to be. Her father is working with the Dwarves to build a device to wield the Stones, surely she should feel something knowing that her plan is well underway. She can stat to envision a day when she might wear her soulmark freely, no more leather wristguards or ornamented bracelets. One third, two out of six, she ought to feel more than just the eerie smoothness of the cube at her fingertips. The must be something.

 But the Stone does not satisfy.

 -

 Planets fall. The Asgardian coffers swell.

 The King and his Executioner chase rumor after rumor and leave few survivors in their wake.

 -

 On Vormir, she cannot hide who she is any longer.

 The guardian tells them that one of them must sacrifice their soulmate.

 “A steep price,” Odin muses, “and one I cannot pay. I have not met her—and if I had, I would not trade my kingdom for the Stone. My match is destined to be my Queen.”

 “That is what I suspected you would say.”

 “And if we killed you?” Hela asks archly.

 “Forgive my Executioner for her lack of manners,” Odin says.

 The guardian smiles joylessly. “Then I would be dead, and the Stones would replace me, perhaps this year, or in a thousand. But you would be no closer to what you seek.”

 “My child,” Odin says, “I cannot—will not—command you to sacrifice your soulmate and your intended. However, I will not stop you, either. This quest of ours is for the protection and advancement of Asgard; if you know your match, I will not judge you for this.”

 “Father,” she starts, her head spinning. “I—” But there are no words, no excuses, no lies.

 “You do have a mark, do you not?”

 She swallows thickly. “I do.”

 “Is it a name I know?”

 “Not exactly.”

 He looks bemused. “Is it, or is it not? Have I met your intended?”

 She wishes the planet would swallow her whole. “I have no intended.”

 “But you have a mark? Explain yourself.”

 She rolls her eyes and rips the bracelet from her wrist, baring the name beneath.

 Odin does not speak for a long time. This is a face she knows well, the face he wears when he debates whether or not to execute a criminal, to send a helpless soul to her waiting blades.

 “What are you?” he finally whispers. “What monstrosity have you become?”

 “Spare me your sanctimony, Father. I am as I was yesterday, and the day previous: your executioner.”

 “Yesterday, you were my executioner. Today, you are woman whose soul is bound inextricably to death.”

 “Truly, a perfect executioner,” she observes rather glibly. But her father is in no gaming mood.

 “If I found a man called Death, could I have him sit the throne with you? Is that what you expect of me?”

 “I expect you to let me rule, as is my right! I do not need a soulmark to validate my birthright.”

 “We must leave this place,” Odin says. “It is imperative I find my match—secure the throne and the succession—instead of going on treasure hunts.”

 She does not budge from the precipice. “You value the idea of your precious Frigga more than you do me, your daughter, your heir, your co-ruler! I am Asgard’s true queen!”

 “How many have you killed, Hela? Not in battle to protect Asgard, not as my executioner, but killed in this mad quest for Stones? Thousands, easily, if not millions. And I let myself be talked into thinking this a valiant idea. I am a fool.” He hangs his head. “And you are a monster.”

 Hela has been on a gold leash her whole life, a series of rules and expectations that she be an Asgardian princess. It is a loose leash, to be sure, one that allows for her to train her magic and to fight in battle, but she nevertheless feels the constant threat of expectation that she marry and become someone’s queen. With her soulmark finally bared, with her father not bothering to hide his disappointment and shame, the leash is cut; she is free.

 For a few brief seconds, at least.

 On the crags of Vormir, drawing from the deep magical wells of this planet, Odin begins the spell that will seal her away as long as he draws breath.

 -

 He strikes her from every record. But some rumors and whispers survive, turned from history into fantastical poetry and lore. Odin cannot execute every bard who speaks his daughter’s name, so he allows her to become a dark legend, a mysterious shadow in Asgard’s past. And for millennia, that is all she remains.

[swapauanon]

@alexa-rynay replied to your post:

                   I just wanna point out that Ruby’s and Yang’s...                

   Thanks for this insight. It should also be said that Ozpin resembles Odin from Norse mythology. Hugin and Muninn (Qrow and Raven) are a pair of ravens who fly all over the world, bring information for Odin.    

I mean, Ruby’s Red Riding Hood, Rose Red, and Dorothy. There can be more than one allusion per character. But in the context of the Rose/Xiao Long household, I think that they were going for the Edgar Allen Poe homage.

[banana-pancake5]

Sisters a Dimension Apart: Bedtimes

[This was for a writing prompt FOREVER ago. I think the prompt was “De-aged” and was submitted by @jadetheblueartist? Not 100% sure lol. Anyway this is a really small short story based on Vita and Frida as kids (probably no older than 10 but idk the specific age)! I stumbled upon this when looking through my notes app so I hope y’all enjoy :D]

“Fi Fi! Fi Fi! How was your training with Dad?” Vita excitedly ran up to her sister, quickly bouncing to a stop so she didn’t collide. When she regained her balance she cocked her head to the side and continued with genuine curiosity, “Was it good?”

Frida was perched on a bench with her hands pressed hard against the wood as she tried to catch her breath. Her arms shook ever so slightly with each breath. She had always been easily worn out from Dad’s training, especially with the magic stuff he was trying to teach her to do. “I- it was fine,” she said between breaths, “how was yours?”

“Hmph,” Vita huffed with arms tightly crossed over her plastron, “why wasn’t it good?”

Frida finally caught her breath and slowed her breathing to a normal pace. She placed both her hands in her lap and her fingers idly began fidgeting with the bandages wrapped around them, “Y’know I don’t like Dad’s training… it just makes me tired, that’s it. But what about yours?”

“But Dad’s training is so funnnnnnn! I don’t get why you don’t like it.” Vita hopped up on the bench beside Frida and took a seat, “Mine was awesome! I learned how to make lil zappy things fly from my fingers! Oh, look look look!!!” Vita tightly shut her eyes and began wiggling her fingers in the air. After a minute or two, when Frida began to believe she was just making it up, a small spark flew from fingertip and popped into the air with a crackle. Vita opened her eyes and stared at Frida expectedly, “Did you see it? Was it awesome?”

“Cool,” Frida’s tone may have sounded uninterested, but that was far from the truth. She was actually fascinated by her sister’s trick, as would any child be when shown a magic trick. She leaned down and inspected Vita’s hands with a puzzled expression, “How did it happen?”

Vita’s expression soured to a pout, longing for a gasp or applause at her amazing feat, but she tried to answer her sister’s question nonetheless, “hm. Well I just focused really hard and poof! Magic!”

Frida nodded intently and stored those words in her mind for later.

“Girls, training is over. Go straight to bed; Hugin and Munin will accompany you.” Draxum shouted with a stern tone from the distance.

“Yes, sir,” Frida replied as she hopped off the bench.

Vita mouthed the words ‘but it’s so early!?‘ in confusion and disgust at Frida’s compliance. Aside from the mischievous smirk that spread across her face, Frida didn’t respond to her sister’s complaint.

Hugin and Munin accompanied Vita and Frida as they prepared for sleep. The two of them shared a bunkbed together, Vita happily perched on the top bunk with Frida content below. They both were tucked in by the gargoyles and shortly after they closed their eyes for the night. But once Hugin and Munin had left the room, Frida carefully climbed up the ladder to the upper bunk and whispered to her sister, “Pssst, Vee! Are you really about to sleep?”

“Um… yeah? Dad said to didn’t he? ” Vita whispered back, having already accepted the “early” bedtime.

That same mischievous grin from earlier crept onto her face, “Well technically he said to go to bed. We’re in bed aren’t we? He didn’t say we gotta sleep.”

“Ohhhhh, heheheh”

Vita and Frida stayed up much later than their bedtime that night. The whole night chatting about the most random things and laughing until it hurt. Continuously shushing each other after every fit of giggles in hope Draxum wouldn’t hear them. They talked and played until their eyes drooped and their heads bobbed down from the call of sleep. Eventually the two of them dosed off sprawled out on Vita’s bed with their arms and legs over each others.

~The End~

— MasterPost —

[theincaprincess]

For a hero's strength is measured by his heart *part 16*

Afternoon my darlings!! How are you all on this lovely day? 

Yes here is part 16 for you all, my brain finally decided to play ball with me!! I hope you enjoy this and I hope it won’t be months again till I get the next part! 

Forever taglist @amyf20​ @blankdblank​ @moonfaery​  @meyoko10​ @southsidesarcasticwriter​ @tolkienprincess​ @starlightintherain89​ @fuer-immer-jetzt​ @fizzyxcustard​ @lady-of-lies​

Loki Taglist @full-of-choices​​ @the-human-cloud​​ @ceruleanrainblues​ @markusstraya @johnlockismyonlytruelove​  @kimanne723​​ @killedinamascarade​​ @bilesxbilinskixlahey​ @the-small-loki-wife​ @shanty-lol​ @soradragon​ @redryderdesigns​

Main masterlist here 

As always catch up here 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Word count 1,000

Glass after glass Loki and Thor drank waiting and hoping Heimdall would be back with news of the immortal fruit, while the nurses gave them an hourly update on your condition, you were getting better by the second, you just needed rest according to the nurses, but Loki was still worried, worried at the fact you had died too many times on the table all for him, if he had known the risks, he wouldn't have let you do that not for him, he cared about you far too much to lose you and he didn't want to lose you again.

"Brother?" 

Thor's voiced echoed into Loki's ears as he turned to face him still lost in his own thoughts. 

"(Y/n) well be fine, she is getting better and stronger, and there is still hope for her" Thor said slapping his brother on the back. 

Nodding Loki raised his glass to his lips to take another drink but he didn't instead he lowed the glass and wet his lips " did Grandfather keep a record of his search for the fruit?" he asked while still staring into thin air.

"Probably, that is where we all get it fr...." Thor cut himself off and stared at Loki knowing exactly where he was going with this, rising to their feet both off the brothers left the room and headed to the great Asgardian library in hopes to find the records of their grandfather's great deeds and any information on the immortal fruit.

....

Opening the door to the library Loki looked around his once favourtie place, he had read every book on the great shelves more then once, the only place he was never allowed in was the personal collection of Odin, the library was like a sanctuary to Loki, where he could be himself, where he could lose himself in all the magic of the nine realms, the fairy tails, the stories, the history, Loki learned more here then he did from the professional tutor Odin got him and Thor as a child to school them in the way he wanted, but Loki knew more of the world from these books and he knew exactly what way to walk to get to Odin's personal collection. 

"This way brother" Loki said to Thor who looked like he was lost, smirking at his brothers faced Loki stepped forward and made his way through the endless aisles of books, twisting and turning down different parts, while Thor followed trying to remember what way they turned if Loki wanted to get up to mischief and leave him in here. 

"How many books are here?" Thor asked absently minded trying to feel the silence atmosphere 

"Over 120 million books" Loki replied turning to his brother and watched as Thor's mouth fell open, smiling he turned back around and kept walking as Thor looked from the ground to the ceiling shaking his head before turning his eyes back to Loki who turned the corning making Thor jog up the aisle to get back behind his brother. 

Turning the last aisle Loki walked down it while Thor stood at the top and looked around "Brother its a dead end, you must have taken the wrong turning" Thor stated but watched in shock as Loki just smirked at him and lifted his hand to a book. 

"Not everything is as it seems, brother" Loki said as he pulled the book down and the back wall of books opened inward to reveal a hidden chamber, pushing the door Loki stepped in and held the door for Thor as he walked down the aisle looking at the book to opening the door, before nodding at his brother and walked past him as Loki shut the hidden door. 

"Did you get it?" Loki asked moving from the hidden door to the large wooden raven covered door in the hidden chamber. 

"Father won't be happy with this, or us when he finds out what we are doing here" Thor whimpered as he handed over the large bronze key to Loki. 

Taken it Loki placed it into the lock on the door and unlocked it, pushing it open, he took in all the books and papers in Odin's personal collection "he is in his Odin sleep, we should be done by the time he wakes, and no one else will know"  Loki smirked as he stepped inside followed by Thor. 

Turning around Loki and Thor took in the full room, books and papers occupied any free space in the room there was a large windows that you could see the whole of Asgard from and the daylight lit the whole room up, looking at each other the brothers nodded as the went to a different bookcase each and started to search for their grandfather records.

....

Feeling her hand being squeezed Frigga looked at her hand then to the eyes of her beloved husband Odin, blinking a few times a smile graced her lips as she took in the slight of Odin opening his eyes before he pulled himself up into a sitting position. 

"My love, you have finally awoken" she said with a teary smile. 

"How long have a been asleep for?" Odin asked groggily, feeling the dryness in his mouth. 

Handing over a goblet of water Frigga wet her own lips "a few months, much has happened in that time" she said as sat on the bed. 

"My sons.... Where are my sons?" Odin asked as a pair of black ravens flew into the room and sat at the end of the bed. 

"I need to explain something first" Frigga spoke to the messenger birds, knowing exactly where they had come from, the hospital and library.  

"I'm listening" Odin spoke before taking a sip of his water, eyeing the messenger's birds curiosity as their names came back to his memory Hugin and Munin, turning his eyes back to Frigga he waited for her tale of the past months had had not been awake for.

Part 17 

[house-of-kells]

A place where I am not myself.

Syntheticspacemagic | Fluff | Ikora x Shiro-4 | SFW 

Ikora had always liked being alone with her thoughts. Alone on mercury when the guardian went in after Osiris and Sagira, alone when she stormed her way through the crucible, and alone when it was just her and her ghost wandering the jungles of what had once been known as Africa, when she was still a fresh guardian.

But this time was different, staring out at the traveler as it pulled itself back together, Ikora felt, for once, uncomfortable with being alone with her thoughts.  she rubbed her palms over the smooth wood beneath her hands as she leaned out over the railing not unlike she had seen Zavala do so many times.  the dramatic irony was not lost on her.  It had been only 2 weeks since the guardian had returned from the tangled shore, informing the two remaining vanguard of Prince Uldren’s death. 

Despite having been the one to send the guardian on that journey, Ikora felt no sense of relief, no satisfaction, only what she could describe as disappointment. disappointment not in the guardian, but in herself, she had gone behind Zavala’s back to OK a mission that had in the grand scheme of things, accomplished nothing.  the two vanguard leaders still had not spoken.  

“Ikora.” a synthesized voice behind her spoke, low and solemn.  Ikora turned her head slightly, just enough to see the speaker from her peripheral vision.  Shiro-4, one of Cayde’s closest friends, leaned against the wall fifteen feet from where she stood, hands folded over his chest, regarding her with his robotic eyes, and for once Ikora wished that Exos’ could display just a little more emotion.  “Shiro, what are you doing here.” she responded in the same solemn tone, ordinarily she’d be more cordial, shaking his hand, all business, but today she just couldn’t muster the effort.

Shiro sported a new cloak sown from black cloth, instead of the yellow cloth he had worn originally, the cloak sported a long red stripe down its left half, as though mirroring the cloak Cayde had once worn. as he shifted his weight, Ikora caught a glint of silver at his hip, a small unassuming sidearm was strapped there.  

“I came to check in, got a message from Cayde saying he had died, and left some things for me.”  he shifted uncomfortably.  “whole place isn’t what I expected to come back to honestly.”  Ikora turned back to stare up at the traveler again.  “and what were you expecting Shiro?” Shiro stood up to his full height, no longer leaning against the wall, and approached. “wasn’t expecting Cayde dead and you and Zavala giving each other the cold shoulder, that’s for sure.”  he gestured to the railing next to her. “May I?” Ikora waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, and he mimicked her position, hands placed on the railing, only his eyes weren’t on the traveler.  

Ikora held the silence for a few long moments, cherishing it, before snapping it in her hands. “I never intended it to be like this.”  she said, lowering her eyes to the city. “I’m assuming you mean the guardian skipping off to the shore to do the deed.” Shiro quipped.  Ikora nodded in confirmation, honestly Shiro would have made a fine hidden had he been a warlock, his skills of perception almost beyond reason.  “I thought it would bring...” Ikora paused searching for a phrase to convey what she felt, in truth she had no idea what she had ‘thought it would bring’.  

Once again Shiro came to her rescue. “you thought it would help things make sense, like how it used to be.  you thought it would drive Zavala onto your path. you thought it would bring resolution to Cayde’s death.” again he had hit the nail on the head, but Ikora made no move to confirm his guess.  “I feel as though your words are wasted on me Shiro, why are you here exactly?”  the exo shifted a bit, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “ah, well, you see...” he shrugged. “when Andal died, there was this restaurant I brought Cayde to, down in the city, it was sort of a place away from places, if you get what I mean.”  she didn’t. “No I don’t I’m afraid.”  Shiro sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Cayde eventually ended up calling it ‘the place where I can be not myself’, its sort of a place where you don’t have to be a guardian for a while. you’re a guardian, but not there. you’re a soldier, but not there. you’re a civilian, a titan, a warlock, a hunter. but not there.”

Ikora finally looked over to the hunter, the barest hint of a smile gracing her face, the thought of a place where she could think things over not as the vanguard, not as a guardian, not as a scholar, but as herself, as Ikora, seemed oddly cathartic. 

“you know Shiro, I think I would like that.”  she said, keeping her eyes on the traveler.  the hunter nodded. “I’ll get it set up, and ping you the coordinates tonight, wear something nice.” he looked down at her robes. “and uh, not that sort of nice, like, normal nice.”  Ikora didn’t understand but nodded along anyway.  “Great.” Shiro said, rising up again to his full height “just look, not you.” he said, striding away. Ikora shook her head, wondering how in the world she could not look like herself. 

it had taken a few hours for Shiro to send her the coordinates as well as a time, and a few hours more for her to put together a suitable disguise, but Ikora had managed to dig the robes she had worn as a young guardian out of her closet, and reattach the shoulder sling to her old shotgun, Invective.  the robes were simple, maroon in color, with black leather serving to fill in the gaps, and a handy hood to pull over her head.  across her arm, Ikora had placed one of her old wearable colliders’, and had departed the tower in secret, placing an old teal helm over her head, and pulling up the hood about her neck.  

saying the restaurant was hard to find was the understatement of a lifetime, even with her ghost, Hugin, supplying active coordinates, it had taken them nearly two hours to find it, and the result both was and wasn’t what Ikora had been expecting.  put together from what seemed to be random bits of metal and wood, the ‘restaurant’ was nothing more than a large shack with a corrugated steel panel as a roof, hanging from the roof, just above the doorway, was a fizzled out neon sign suspended by wires threaded through what looked suspiciously like bullet holes; the sign read “the Middle of Nowhere”.  Ikora looked around, there was no sign of Shiro yet, and this didn’t feel like the sort of place to be alone in, and she began to have second thoughts.  letting out a small hum, Ikora leaned toward Hugin and said “Maybe this wasn’t the best idea...”  just as she began to turn to leave, a familiar voice called out to her.

“Ikora.” Shiro called from across the small grassy yard outside of the shack. jogging across, he stopped a few feet in front of her.  “I’m so glad you were able to make it.” Ikora nodded cautiously. “Shiro when you said a place...” she paused, uncertain. “I wasn’t expecting this.”  Shiro nodded, easily reading what she implied. “yeah I know, but give it a shot, and if you don’t like it, we don’t come back.  Deal?” Ikora felt a bit shocked by how forward he was being, she had never taken a chance to talk to Shiro without being in a vanguard meeting, and now that she was alone with him, his calm reassurance was... nice.  “Alright.” she managed to say.  “I can give it a try.”

“Fantastic.” Shiro replied, moving towards the shack, Ikora in tow.  before the pair arrived at the door, Shiro laid his arm across her shoulders; when she moved to step away, he tightened his grip. “okay Ikora, trust me on this, you’re gonna want me around here, at least until folks warm up to you, so just follow my lead.”  Ikora sighed slightly and nodded, Shiro nodded in return, before pushing open the door to the restaurant, while saying. “welcome to the Middle of Nowhere.”  

Despite its outward appearance, the inside of the shack was well lit, with round tables, their finish almost completely peeled off, and old rustic chairs, which probably never had any finish applied in the first place, light bulbs hung from cords stretching upwards to the ceiling;  off to the left on the far side of the single room was a bar, in similar condition to the tables and chairs.  as the pair entered, figures seated alone or in groups at the tables turned their eyes on Ikora and Shiro.  Ikora felt Shiro shift his hand down from her shoulder to around her waist, while he simultaneously raised his other hand into the air slightly and lowered his head in what Ikora could only describe as a half nod. the patrons, most of them hunters by Ikora’s wager, repeated the gesture, lowering their heads and raising their hands, before returning to their drinks or other activities. 

pulling her over to an empty table with two chairs, Shiro took his hand from Ikora’s waist and kicked one of the chairs out from the table a ways, before taking the other chair and sitting down.  Ikora took the chair shiro had moved, presumably for her in the weird way hunters did things, and sat, pulling herself up to the table.  after a moment a young woman came by and dropped two old menu’s onto the table between them. “Anything for drinks?” she asked, pulling out a notepad, her tone somewhat apathetic.  “Two glasses of water, and something for a departed friend if you get my meaning.”  Shiro chimed in.  the woman nodded, not looking up from the notepad. “Sure thing Shiro.” she turned on her heel and wove her way through the tables back to the bar.  Ikora stared after her for a few seconds before pulling one of the menu’s across the table and beginning to unfold it, turning her gaze back to Shiro. “they know you?” Shiro nodded. “yeah, and before you ask, they don’t care that we’re guardians, place operates on a ‘don’t ask don’t tell policy’” Shiro reached out and placed his hand on top of Ikora’s menu, obscuring her vision of the orders. “and don’t, order anything here.”  Ikora would have asked why but decided against it, Shiro was clearly in his element here, and it felt best to just follow his lead. 

The woman returned with the glasses and a dark bottle of cheap wine,  which Shiro took and thanked her, tipping her a few pieces of glimmer before turning his attention back to Ikora. “So Ikora.” he began, and Ikora braced herself. “I heard what happened, and I’m not talking about Cayde, I’m talking about you and Zavala.” there it was, the question she had hoped not to hear. “Listen Shiro, I appreciate this, but I don’t think” she was cut off by Shiro leaning forward, onto the table. “I know you don’t think this is a good Idea Ikora, but I want to hear your side of things, every guardian I’ve talked to knows Zavala’s side, but I want to hear yours.”

Ikora took a moment to compose herself, sifting through her memories, trying to find a place to start;  after she had compiled what she felt was a proper explanation, she cast her eyes downward to her hands.  “I didn’t understand.” she finally said, watching Shiro sit back, listening.  “with Cayde dead, I didn’t understand why Zavala didn’t want to go after Uldren Sov, at first I thought him a coward, too afraid of his own light’s frailty to trust anyone else to do a good job, it felt as though he thought if he couldn’t do something, no one could.”  Shiro nodded. “But that wasn’t the case.” he prompted, and Ikora shook her head. “No it wasn’t, after the guardian returned, and I felt no satisfaction, I turned my thoughts inward.” she looked up to Shiro’s glowing blue eyes.  “if we had sent an army, a raid party, or even a fire-team, the chances of an unnecessary loss would have skyrocketed, and...” she paused for a second, casting her eyes back down to her hands and willing herself to say what she had been avoiding, a result she had until now refused to face. “And despite all how much I despaired, Cayde was still just a single guardian, a loss of another guardian wouldn’t have changed that. simple numbers.”  

As Ikora stared down at her hands, clenched into fists, another gloved hand appeared, looking up slightly, Ikora watched Shiro place his right hand over top her left, a small gesture of reassurance.  “from up in the tower, it all seems like simple math and science.” he said, his tone soft. “if we lose two guardians instead of one, its a net loss, if we don’t prove a point here or there, net loss.” he stared at Ikora intently. “but down here, when the enemy really hits home, its not so simple anymore.”  Ikora nodded, and Shiro sat back in his chair, pouring some of the wine at the table into a spare glass and pushing it towards her.  “I know it’s tough, believe me, but it’ll get better.  I promise”  Ikora nodded, removing her teal helmet.  as the cool air hit her face, she felt her eyes burn, withing the confines and filtered air of her helmet, she had failed to realize she had begun to cry.  “thank you Shiro.” she managed, her voice warbling as she spoke;  she grasped the glass and took a sip, it had a strange, sour flavor to it, but not a flavor she despised. Shiro emptied his glass of water before filling it again with wine, and raised it slightly. “to Cayde.” Ikora nodded and raised her glass slightly off the table as well.

Ikora couldnt help but giggle as Shiro regaled her with yet another tale of Cayde’s antics before he became a vanguard, tipping back her glass, Ikora noticed she had run out of wine again, and went to pour more wine into her glass another time, only to have none pour from the bottle.  as she sat there, pondering why nothing was happening, Shiro gently took the bottle from her hand, and placed it on the table, next to the other empty bottle.  “I think that’s enough Ikora, its getting late.”  Ikora stared at him, dumbfounded. “It is?” she peered up at the small clock on a nearby wall, trying to will her vision to stop wobbling so she could see the time.  Shiro took her gently by the arm, and led her out of the bar, and Ikora had to admit, the cool night air did help straighten out her vision a bit, but not her balance, as she would have almost immediately fallen had it not been for Shiro’s support.  leaning her full weight against him, she stumbled along with him back in the vague direction of the tower.  as he helped her into her dormitory, Ikora put her free hand on his shoulder. “I wanted to thank you Shiro, it was nice to be away from the tower for a while.” Shiro seemed to nod. “whatever you say Ikora, you should get some sleep.”  not that it had been mentioned, Ikora felt the weight of exhaustion creeping over her body, nodding along with him, she mumbled. “yes, sleep would be nice...” Shiro helped her over to the couch, too unfamiliar with the layout of her room to help her to her bed, before turning to leave. “try to take it easy tomorrow Ikora.” he called over his shoulder, Ikora simply waved her hand in agreement, pulling Invective off of her shoulder, and allowing it to drop onto the ground with a loud thud.  the last thing she remembered was watching Shiro close the door behind him, bathing the room in darkness.