#it can make any fandom insufferable in a matter of months and it's exhausting

[spooky-mister]

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I Am A God - Prologue

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Hey!

Well, I haven't written anything in a while because I've been drowning in film school coursework. B u t we finish in a couple of weeks so I figured why not start a new fic?

I'm actually pretty excited to write this one, so let me tell you about I Am A God.

This is going to be a AU chapter fic crossing over FD3 and Jennifer's Body, throwing the characters of the former into the conflict of the latter. Some chapters may draw more heavily from Jennifer's Body (for example, this prologue is a pretty by-the-numbers retelling of Needy's opening scene), however other chapters may deviate and I will work to add nuance through the characters and their place in their universe.

I will try to keep this fic updated weekly!

Also off the bat, I would like to warn that this fic will include violence, sexual references (nothing explicitly NSFW) and major character deaths throughout. I will include any specific triggers before each chapter but please let me know if I miss out a trigger you would like me to add :)

Anyway, without further ado, on with the fic.

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I Am A God - Prologue (1/12)

Fandom: Final Destination 3/Jennifer's Body

Pairing: Various

Chapter Word Count: 1,078

Chapter Potential Triggers: Physical violence, solitary confinement

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Hell is a teenage goth.

And well, with that pretence, Erin supposed she wasn't much better.

The rough fuzz of wool grazed the ex-goth’s fingers as she fed it through the cross of popsicle sticks nesting in her palm - threading a craft project she granted little attention. Her eyes were vacant, fixed on the hatched bars of her one window and darting around as if following a fly. Without her old mask of Dollar Store make-up, Erin looked particularly tired. Exhausted, even. Drained… And her dark ginger hair clashed repulsively with her mandatory orange jumpsuit.

Erin Ulmer had been housed in McKinley, Pennsylvania’s one correctional facility for a total of two months now - barely a scratch on her total sentence. She bet they wished they could kick her out sooner. She was an outcast - even here. Quiet and meditative despite her reputation amongst the doctors and guards. She was a Kicker with a capital ‘K’ - even said so in her file. She liked to think of herself as a fighter.

She had been assigned a one-window room with a façade of cleanliness - the white walls and linoleum floor tainted by small cracks and stubborn stains. It wasn't all bad though. At least on the outside, she had her fans.

Her floor was littered with colourful cards and boxes, idols and fuzzy stuffed animals. Sure, they were mostly from creeps and clergymen, but… They were a small mercy to tape her down when she felt loose around the edges.

The girl’s left eye twitched as her thoughts were cut short by the sharp, sudden rap of knuckles against her door frame. She didn’t need to turn around - she knew who it was. At least, she knew what to expect from the gleaming white lab coats and obnoxious ID badges. It didn’t really matter which one was giving her the spiel today.

“Your mealtime started five minutes ago, Erin,” the lab coat spoke, deep, male and tired.

“Suck it, Doctor Feelgood," Erin croaked through chapped lips, but she could tell the guy wasn't going anywhere. She sighed and glanced over her shoulder, giving him a saccharine smile. "I mean, thank you."

God, she was going to rot in here.

At least mealtimes let the chains a little looser. Breakfast was her favourite. Just Erin, a barred window and a fresh frosted cherry Toast ’Em.

Typically, she was left alone to enjoy her peace and quiet.

This morning, she wasn’t so lucky.

Erin caught sight of the nutritionist before they spoke a word, narrowing cold, blue eyes as her body language tightened. The woman’s smile was patronising, her expression one of a parent deciding the best way to scold a difficult child. Erin was used to it by now. God, gag her with a spoon.

“Good morning, Erin,” the nutritionist cooed on her approach, leaning over slightly so that she came to the girl’s eye level. The woman made Erin feel nauseous, weathered, leathery skin dancing on her jowls and the stench of morning coffee still thick on her breath. She spoke to Erin with a sickly condescension, tight lips pulled taut in a false grin. “Just one Toast ‘Em today?”

“I like Toast ‘Ems,” Erin murmured with as much energy she could muster… Which was not a lot by any stretch of the imagination. She had no patience for the doctor’s interrogations, her cadence monotonous and dull. The woman didn’t seem too pleased by the brevity of her response, over-plucked eyebrows knitting together.

“That’s good,” she tested. “But I’m not sure one Toast ‘Em can provide sufficient energy during your day.”

Jesus Christ, could she shut her mouth for ten minutes? Twenty? Perhaps the whole day. Anything to spare Erin from the insufferable drawl she suffered day in. Day out. The doctor could take her clipboard and ram it up her ass. In fact, Erin would do it for her. Frustration built and built and built as Erin’s short fuse began to dwindle and hiss. She had no patience left after what she had experienced - and definitely no patience for this. She wanted to be left alone. She wanted to be free of this fucking crapshack. But while she was here, she’d just have to re-route that frustration into some… Healthier outlets. Healthy for her, at least.

“I recommend more complex carboh-”

The nutritionist didn’t get the time to deliver her advice before Erin got to her feet and launched her foot forward, cracking hard against the woman’s face and sending her stumbling and spiralling back into chairs and tables alike.

Blood oozed from the woman’s newly mangled nose as she landed on the ground with a thud, the ecstatic roar of Erin’s fellow prisoners drowning out the groans and hiccups of pain.

“I recommend you shut the fuck up!” Erin bayed, her previous docile nature stripped away in an instant to reveal a picture of rage - red hair wild and teeth bared. She inhaled sharply, gathering the salty taste of mucus in her mouth before firing it as a projectile into the doctor’s pain-twisted face.

Of course, it didn’t take long for the cafeteria guards to intervene.

A tall, burly man grabbed Erin under the arms, causing the teen to squirm and scream and kick out her strong legs like a caged mustang. Another guard - scrawny and puny compared to the one behind her - earned a rightful kick to the stomach when coming around to grab at her feet. But she couldn’t fight forever, she was exhausted. So with the fanfare of her shrieking and whooping inmates to play her out, her legs were grabbed and she was rushed away flailing and screaming.

She knew where they were taking her. Erin was intimately familiar with solitary confinement.

She hit the concrete with a resentful grunt, immediately righting herself and shuffling to the far wall - knees pulled tight. Her chest hammered and her head spun, limp, lifeless locks of ginger hair framing the fury in her face. She saw the light of the adjacent hallway dim as the door was swung shut, darkness coming with the harsh clang of metal.

Erin screamed until her throat threatened to rupture. Until she succumbed to her exhaustion and slumped against the wall.

She hadn’t always been so cracked. Up until two months ago, she’d been relatively normal… Or, as close to normal as you can get when masquerading as the town’s token gothic outcast.

But that had been before the killings began.

Before her best friend - ex-best friend - made the worst mistake of their lives.

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[allbeendonebefore]

I was kind of under the impression that this is just a widespread thing in Alberta, especially because of the Angus Reid fractured federation survey (I cant include the link here, but you can Google it, its from January 24th 2019). When got back into Hetalia, I imagined the dynamics kinda changed to this, which would be pretty bad tbh. I hope its not that aggressive in Alberta, I will never be able to go check tho, too expensive :( I loved the bad french btw

i see you guys sending these asks super late at night and i wonder whether any of you sleep - idk where you’re writing from and i may be on the west coast but are you guys ok wherever you are? I just woke up but I have my tea and if I’m not caffeinated now I surely will be as I answer this.

I’m sure I’ve seen the survey you’re speaking of before and before I address it in any specific detail I just want to back up and re frame Why I’m Being Like This in regards to recent events and my orientation towards answering these questions in terms of Hetalia the way I do, because I think it’s the heart of how I answer.

the tldr of it is:

1. I have an opportunity to make interpretations of reality in unexpected and challenging ways, therefore widespread opinions don’t govern anything but my stupid gag comics in the simple sense that if everyone was represented by widespread opinion alone all the time, nothing would change and

2. if i can answer dozens of asks about ralph and oliver hanging out there’s absolutely no reason I can’t answer asks about ralph and jean hanging out, lol.

3. If you’d like a shorter, more concise “vision statement”, I have one on @battle-of-alberta here. (although now I notice the links don’t work on mobile so you’ll have to be on desktop for that one)

I’m assuming this will be long so cut time

(and yes, alas, the bad french is my legacy and I’m afraid it has not improved much although i swear i was an A student when i was actually taking it) (and no please don’t visit now, purely for pandemic reasons, it would be really expensive And you’d have a bad time) (and talking to me is free lmao) (I do not mean to say that you need to have feet on the ground to understand a place at all, i mean, at the moment I don’t lol)

headings because I say a lot

what even is hetalia

At the most basic level, Hetalia is a tool that can be used in a variety of ways. It can be for memorization, current politics at a glance or historical relationships in different settings. I use it for all of these things, of course, I certainly use it a lot in comics that take place in the much more distant past in @athensandspartaadventures. When I was writing that, I was in undergrad and AaSA was a tool to help me pass my exams, I didn’t think of how it might be read or interpreted by people who have lived in or experienced those places these days, or what kind of political and cultural tensions it might reveal. (Not to say that it has gotten me into sticky situations, exactly, but I am more aware of where things like that would arise now).

These days I look back on a lot of my experiences - both in IAMP/Hetalia and just as a person, and I think that if Hetalia is a tool it should be used with some awareness of intention and responsibility. Things in the fandom have changed as it became more mainstream and more well known and I think there’s a definite worry about screwing up or not representing Everything or not pleasing Everybody or not doing it Right. I have a simple, insufferably academic principle.

(That said, yes, you can still do it very wrong if you write a methodology.)

Still, it’s a comfort to me that I’m just doing the things the way I say I’m going to do them, and that is the underpinning of Inspired But Not Constrained By Hetalia. I don’t do things Himaruya’s way, I can’t do things the way IAMP would do them if it were running today because it’s not and things have changed, all I can do is do them how I would do them.

I have hurt people in the past because they sometimes couldn’t tell whether I was writing From an Albertan Perspective or not, and I’ve evoked some preeetty spicy comments over the last decade, and I realized that tone and perspective are something that really shapes how people understand and interact with my work and I’m trying to use that understanding in a conscientious way)

what even is alberta

So when you’re me and you’ve grown up in a province that is the Angriest in the country and the most Misunderstood in the country and the most Entitled in the country and nobody outside of maybe Saskatchewan has a good thing to say about you half the time and maybe you’re tired of that... you get kind of depressed thinking about how every year some kiddo comes on the internet ready to be excited about making or celebrating characters that represent themselves and No Matter Where They Go running into everyone else’s negative impressions first and foremost.

We joke about how everyone hates Toronto, though I’ve always understood it in a teasing way because I’ve never ACTUALLY met someone (outside of our current legislative assembly) who REALLY hates Toronto, but it does feel like I’ve encountered (directly or indirectly) people who do Genuinely hate Alberta and hoo boy is That a strange feeling. I mean, there’s an understanding that BC also ‘hates’ Alberta but half the people in BC are originally from Alberta so it’s a, uh, different feeling.

The story of Alberta from everywhere else is always the story of that Angus Reid article and the memes and comments and listicles that spin out around mainstream media. Alberta is giving too much. Alberta is getting too little. Alberta is too stupid to understand that equalization payments are a good thing actually, and Alberta is too dumb to understand you don’t really need EI if you make enough money in six months to own a house and multiple vehicles Just Because you own a house and multiple vehicles. Alberta is destroying the environment for everybody. Alberta has a huge concentration of white supremacists. Alberta is the Texas of Canada* and has the conservative streak and bible belt to match. Alberta should get annexed by the US. Oh, but Banff! We like Banff, though.

And like I said, politicians use these widespread feelings to stir up the sentiments of people who can’t afford to travel, people who are naturally suspicious of mainstream news, people who have barely even left their hometowns let alone the province and have no other means of validating what they hear, but people who’s emotions are genuinely tied to real feelings of alienation that really exist and HAVE existed for generations. And when the so-called “laurentian elites” in ontario and quebec make fun of them for being uneducated red necks, well, you hit a wasps nest and expected what, exactly?

what even am i doing

And like I’m faced with this question every day I decide to pick up my stylus and badger you all with unsolicited comics: do I want this to continue? Do I want to wear the mask that fits? Do I want to stand aside and say #notallalbertans #notlikeotheralbertans and stand over here on the island** patting myself on the back for not? being? there? Do I say yes, you’re right, and stand aside and watch loud mouth white supremacists co-opt wexiters and let them lead the perception of the province I grew up in just because that is what’s currently happening? Do I acknowledge the widespread sentiment and then pick apart every other province to say Well Actually You’re Equally Problematic Hypocrites, So There?

Obviously I’ve been saying no for a while. I’m perfectly happy to acknowledge the reality and when I draw stupid gag comics like this or this you can tell (hopefully) from my style that it’s tongue and cheek. When I draw less stupid not-gag comics like this or this I am trying to explore the Real Sentiments in a way that doesn’t completely polarize the issue and spin it out of control. I’m more of the opinion that even though Current Sentiments do get in the way that as personifications they 1. have some perspective and as people they 2. have some interest in not throwing out a friendship that was a struggle to build up every time the polls change or some new radical party seizes power. I do a lot of research and I want that to be reflected in my understanding of each characters deep seated beliefs and motivations, but I don’t want to let either the history or the current realities dictate the future if I am going to try to do that myself. 

why even am i doing it for

So like really the heart of the matter is: I am writing what I write for my thirteen year old self. She was the me who moved back to Canada from the United States, who’s first introduction to living there was a hellish surge of nationalism after September 11th. Who’s defense against that was to hide behind a shield of Canada is Better, Actually and who returned to Alberta during the boom years to realize that, oh wait, the rest of the country thinks we’re assholes just like they think the United States is. Who spent her teenage years learning that, boom or bust, the widespread sentiment in and out of the province is just as narrow, shortsighted, self interested, and stubborn as her own fiction of What Canada Was Supposed to be Like. Who learned that propping up that image at the expense of her friendships was not worth it, that propping up that image at the expense of people who are suffering and dying under that image is not worth it. Who found herself rehashing the same sort of gut reaction defensiveness online because the Guilt and Apologizing on behalf of her province compared to others felt Really Heavy for a kid who didn’t have any clue what to do about it and was just there to have fun and learn some stuff.

So I’m writing for anyone else who finds themselves exhausted and saddened by coming online and seeing that the only way that people can imagine Alberta is as an antagonist. I’d like to challenge everyone to start to imagine it better. It’s my little “escape” from reality, and for me it’s much easier to talk to people here where the stakes aren’t as high and the grievances a little less personal.

I’m also writing (in a more secondary way) for everyone who’s ever looked at alberta from afar and wondered What is going On inside your Head and is it always This

(no comment at this time)

as always, I’m here to explain At The Very Least what goes on in My head because at the end of the day, that’s all I can do. And though there are some things that make me angry and emotional, I’m happy to explain why. Happy to answer asks or chat on discord or whatever, any time I have the time. :)

footnotes

*This is just a footnote to say something I didn’t want to interrupt the flow of my comments, but this is an annoyance that me and my Texas Tomodachi share lol

**You’ll notice angry Albertans online have a favourite tactic, and that’s pointing out hypocrisy. They can justify A N y T h I n G by calling another province a hypocrite “so there” (i.e. BC can’t claim to be environmentally conscious because of Victoria’s sewage problem or Site C) - and while I am interested in shattering the image of Alberta vs. the Perfect Rest of Canada a little bit, I feel like it’s a very lazy argument that is used to deflect and not to help. I think it is more useful to unpack the sentiment of Why Alberta Still Feels Taken Advantage of rather than mudslinging, and when the mud starts flying no one seems interested in addressing problems anymore.

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 29: Fear in Finery

Chapters: 29/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Let’s try this again) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Reader, Brunnhilde, Thor Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), On The Road, Horse With A Side Of Extra Horse, Shut Up Todd,  Summary:  You're having second thoughts about sitting in a courtroom with a man who tried to murder you, no matter how many gods are between you.

You were absolutely, completely, off your head drunk; a condition for which Loki was solely to blame.

“No work today.” He had said. “We must speak with lawyers, and that is work enough.”

He's been right. You had thought about teasing him for his perceived laziness: imagine calling off all your princely duties, just because you had to talk to someone!

But talking to the lawyers was excruciating. They were frighteningly serious, determined to get every last bit of information out of you, calm, cold, and unsympathetic. They had to be; it was an important part of their job. You didn't blame them for it, but having to re-live the experience two separate times-one for the prosecuting lawyer and another for the defending-was exhausting.

They hadn't let you and Loki be in the same room while they were asking their questions, leaving him irritable, and you an anxiety-riddled mess by the end of it all. The sticky honey buns you had made that morning hadn't stayed with you, and so, after they lawyers had satisfied themselves and left, he had whisked you away to one of the little private dining rooms to the side of the banquet hall, and ordered a lot of food, a lot of drink, and one of Beli's apprentices to provide music.

Loki himself had served you, in a reversal of his usual role. And you had allowed him, and now you were totally drunk.

He'd served you something he called 'crystal mead'; a sparkling, bubbly drink that changed color depending on how the light hit it.

“This is very young.” He had said. “So it should not be too potent for you.” It was so delicious, that you couldn't seem to stop drinking it, and even the food had not saved you from drunkenness.

You swayed to the music, unfamiliar but beautiful, trying to hum along. You thought you were doing pretty well, but Loki snickered every time you tried.

“It appears you have proven me wrong, my dear. Be proud. Precious few have ever done so.”

“Ooohhh, I'm Loki, and I'm soooo smart, and never wrong!” You snarked thoughtlessly. “I'm sooo strong, and soo handsome, and I've got everything under control.”

Loki grinned widely. “Your accent is off. If you are to impersonate me, you will need more practice. Tell me more about how handsome I am.”

“You hush! You know how scared I am? I don't wanna go! I don't wanna see that guy again, and I'm tired of almost dying! Can I stop?”

Loki sighed. “You have my permission to stop almost dying. I...well, I can't say I'm exactly the paragon of not almost dying, but I'll do what I can to keep you from also almost dying.”

“Howwww many times have you almost died?” You asked.

“Eh, three or four times.” He shrugged. “Not that often, in the long run.”

In the long run. In a life of thousands of years, perhaps that wasn't very many. Still, you were pretty sure that Saldis had never almost died, so maybe it was much worse than he was trying to make you believe. To you, it was still an unacceptable number of times. Surely Loki could not be allowed to die before you did. It just didn't seem right.

You patted his hand sloppily. “Loki. Loki, Loki, Loki.” You repeated. “That's way too much. Don't do that any more. You've used up all your turns, so you have to stop.”

“Well, since my Seidkona commands...”

“That's right! I'm Seidkona, so listen to me!...I still don't wanna go. But I'll go. Gotta do the right thing.”

“Well, not always...” He trailed off. “But if you're feeling brave, then yes. Do the right thing. In this case, it seems that duty commands it.”

You started to take another drink, but Loki stole the mead right out of your hands, and replaced it with an apple juice.

“Wha? Hey! Gimmie that back!” You protested. “I'm not done!”

“I'm afraid you are my dear. We can't have you so drunk this early in the day, can we? It's not even dark out yet!” The teasing was heavy in his voice. You crossed your arms and huffed.

“It doesn't get dark anymore!” You grumped. “Night time doesn't exist! The stars are lies, and the moon is a ghost!”

“Poetic, but you still cannot have any more. Here, have some bread instead. This one has that jam you like so much.” He always seemed to make sure that jam was there. You chewed the bread as if you were angry with it.

“I miss Phil.” You mumbled. Loki crooked one perfect eyebrow.

“Who is Phil?”

“My philodendron. He's special. He's as big as me, and he had variegated leaves. That's pretty rare. Normally they're really expensive, but Tara got me a cutting from her aunt, and I raised it...raised it up...I hope he's doing all right...” You choked the words out around the sudden lump in your throat, and Loki went from teasing to concerned in less time than it took to look.

“_____, I-”

You buried your head in your arms and let the tears burst out.

“I haven't talked to Tara in months! I haven't even sent her a letter! I almost got killed, and I didn't even leave her a note to say I was okay! She's my best friend, and I just forgot her!”

“N-now, now, _____,” Loki quickly, giving your back an awkward pat. “I'm sure she understands that your life has taken an unforeseen turn, and that you simply aren't as available-”

“I haven't paid my rent!” You wailed. “They probably sold all my stuff! Or trashed it! My plants! My cookbooks! My sketches! I can't replace them! My plants counted on me, and I abandoned them to go play fairy tale in some mythical world, where it's never night!”

A gesture from Loki sent the minstrel away, leaving just the two of you, you still sobbing onto the table, and Loki at a loss for what to do. Finally, he settled for draping one arm over your shoulders, and letting you decided the level of comfort you wanted.

“If you would like, we can contact your father, to see if he salvaged any of your belongings.” He offered. “If not, I intended to take you into town to get a few things for yourself anyway. We are going to be providing you with a cell phone, so you will be able to contact your friends and family. You haven't abandoned anyone, you've just been temporarily unavailable. Don't fret now, my dear, let all that stress go...”

He let you cry yourself out, offering the occasional coo or murmur of encouragement, and a handkerchief, as soon as you were done. It was, of course, brilliant green, with golden embroidery, and you almost felt bad for utterly wrecking it with your nose. Loki seemed to think it could be salvaged though, tucking it away somewhere in his magic pockets.

“Here, eat your bread now.” He said, pushing the plate at you once again. “And no more mead for a while. We will have to find a formula you can withstand. Your mortal blood is far too thin for our alcoholic accomplishments.”

“Rude.” You muttered, gobbling bread.

                                                                             *****

“Which do you think?” Loki asked from in front of the full length mirror, holding up two sets of his horns. “The full helmet, or the hollow top?”

“Perhaps we should avoid wearing anything that could be considered martial in nature?” Thor suggested, sounding terribly bored.

“Hm, you think so? Well, I do have a set that more of a coronet-”

“Just braid your hair and be done with it, you insufferable dandy!”

“You can't call me a dandy!” Loki huffed. “You have beads in your beard.”

“They hold the braid in place, and they make me look dashing.” Thor preened.

“They make you look like a barbarian.”

“You are simply envious that I have a beard to put beads in!”

“Oh yes, so greatly do I regret my inability to fully cultivate the 'filthy vagrant' look! Whatever shall I do, with only my impeccable fashion sense to back me up?”

The brothers bickered and debated every thing from armor, to accessories, to footwear, eventually settling down so that Thor could wind green ribbons into his brother's hair.

You had been provided with a weeks worth of dresses, each finer than anything you had ever worn. You had never even imagined your wedding dress-if you ever got to have a wedding-would be of such high quality. Gratifyingly, you could tell that some of them were older, altered pieces, which you tended to prefer for practicality's sake. Even more gratifying: they weren't all green.

You, and Saldis, and Brunnhilde, and Borgliot had all been gathered in the King's chambers very early in the morning-or very late at night, with the sun misbehaving so, it was impossible for you to tell anymore-to prepare for your journey to the city. The king had said that it would take the better part of a day on horseback, and that the trial would likely not last long, as the defendant had pleaded guilty, with no remorse at all for his crimes.

Reservations had been made for a weeks worth of time, and Loki promised you that, whatever moments were spent outside the trial, you could chose to spend however you wished. Saldis would be coming along, for she spoke Icelandic as well as English, and could read it too; she would be there to translate things for you during those times that Loki had to be parted from you, and she was to see to your care and attire. She bubbled with an excitement you thought it was far too early-or late-for, showing you the intricacies of wearing a snake-shaped pen-annular brooch that twisted and turned in your hands like the very reptile it resembled.

“How...again?” You asked, unable for the life of you, to get the long pin in the right place. You'd been gifted a gorgeous deep blue cloak that was sure to keep you warm; Loki had been very solemn and proud to wrap it around your shoulders, but he hadn't bothered showing you how the pin worked when he'd handed it over.

“Just like this, my Seidkona.” Saldis said, fastening the brooch with a quick movement. It looked so simple when she did it.

You sighed. “I feel like a child.” You complained. “Can't even dress myself.”

“High class clothing is complex.” Saldis explained. “Most nobles cannot dress themselves.”

“Besides, you kinda look like a child too.” Brunnhilde said, offhandedly, as she twisted her braided hair into a tidy topknot. “Mortals are all pretty small, but your little body, on that little horse...you're going to look like an elf.” At your crestfallen expression, she hastened to add. “But that's fine. Elves are considered lucky. All of the shorter Asgardians you see have Alfar in their backgrounds.”

All of the shorter Asgardians were still half a foot taller than you. Being short wasn't something you'd ever really noticed, before coming here. Among other humans, height variance felt far less pronounced.

“Methinks thou hast 'hashed it', my general.” Borgljot jested. “Our dear mortal is surely no child.”

You caught her gazing appreciatively at the way the diagonal elements in your clothes flattered your figure, and you grew a little warm. You hadn't been awake long enough to be able to appreciate flirting from anyone, let alone a six-foot-three warrior woman from space.

Brunnhilde nudged her sharply. “Mind your manners.”

“She is not incorrect.” Loki called from near the mirror. “I happen to know that my Seidkona is very much a woman.”

You took in a deep breath, but decided not to tell him off in front of everyone. Later. Borgliot's impudent grin faltered as she glanced from the prince, to you, to Brunnhilde, who simply gave her a very pointed look. Her face fell, and she said nothing else.

Loki came to guide you to the horses, while Saldis gathered your luggage. Thor had convinced him to wear no armor at all; instead he had girded himself in an intricately beaded tunic made of velvet so plush that your hands itched to touch it, and trousers so well-tailored that your eyes simultaneously screamed to keep looking and to turn away. It was practically scandalous, and you were embarrassed by how intriguing you found just this one set of clothes.

Thor was also resplendent in his finery, with his doublet and red cloak, and shining buttons, his ribboned hair an opposite color match for his brother. It was a nice touch, in lieu of crowns.

In fact, the entire entourage was absolutely majestic, and you felt like a dog someone had dressed up in a matching costume. Your clothes were right, but you were out of place.

Maybe it was just the apprehension you still felt towards seeing your would-be murderer again, or towards being in a court of law. Being out among humankind again, knowing that some of them saw you as a traitor to your species.

“Would you like to ride the same horse as before?” Loki asked you, as the stablehands led Leynarodd out to him. You nodded. Technically, that horse deserved justice as well.

A loud and happy whicker caught your attention and you glanced around in search of the animal that could have made the sound.

“Who was that?” You asked. It wasn't Leynarodd, who was contentedly munching the apple Loki had offered her, and it certainly wasn't the shaggy, placid little beast that had been brought to you.

“Oh, that was the other horse I rescued from Ragnarok.” Loki said with a little smile, stroking Leynarodd's broad forehead.

The thumping of hooves grew, odd-sounding, almost like striking iron. The animal that approached was enormous; bigger than Leynarodd, bigger than any horse ever was or could be. He was shining silver-gray, ribbons and bells in his mane and tail. Thor perched atop his back like a scene out of legend, and, if all eight hooves striking the ground with the sound of metal were any indication, that's exactly what this was.

“Is...is that...?” You breathed out in awe. This creature was equal parts beautiful and terrifying, his perfection and wrongness impressed into your mind. It occurred to you that no one had ever said animals could not be gods as well.

“It is.” Loki said proudly. “Saddle up, my dear. Not all of us can keep Sleipnir's speed, and we have a long ride ahead of us.”

You mounted your sweet, small horse, who seemed not at all perturbed by the legendary beasts she was expected to travel with. Perhaps you ought to try to be more like her.

“Can you tell me this girls name?” You asked.

“Believe that one's Acorn.”

“Acorn?” The horse's ears perked, and you hugged her neck. “Oh, that's so cute!”

“And somewhat ironic, considering there are no oak trees here, so she's likely never seen one. Onward! The day is young.”

The procession wended slowly through the streets, the people gathering to solemnly wish you all well. This was not a situation that called for celebration; instead, the people waved squares of gray cloth, and played slow drum beats on the corners.

“It's to symbolize that we are going to a battle who's outcome is uncertain.” Loki explained. “Legal battles should be able to go either way, in the nature of fairness. But we know how this will end, if not all the details.”

The drums faded behind you as you reached the edge of the city, replaced by a slightly different sound; that of chanting. Angry chanting.

Past the gate, past the increased number of einherjar, blocking the road out, was a crowd of people, chanting louder and louder at the approach of your little cavalcade. Most of them were carrying signs, and too many of those had your face on them.

Dread rolled down your bones. Was there any possibility they were there in support? The red slashes you saw through your own face put those hopes to rest.

What had you done to deserve this?

It looked as though Loki was suffering the same treatment, with signs and chants, but aside from a slight scowl, he showed no signs of acknowledging the hostile crowd. Trying to take a page from his book, you turned away from the people, and fixed your eyes on Leynarodd instead.

Beautiful, shining Leynarodd, and her beautiful, statuesque rider. Just stay next to them, and you would be safe.

Someone broke free of the chanting ranks, darted into the procession, and grabbed you by the hand. You turned to look down into possibly the least expected-and least welcome of faces.

“Todd?” You squeaked, disbelieving. He couldn't be here. You didn't want him here! You hadn't seen him in over a year, and there was a good reason for that!

“_____, baby, I'm so glad I found you!” Todd exclaimed, as the horses came to a halt. He gestured at the einherjar currently closing the gate. “These clowns wouldn't let anyone into the city, even though I told them about us.”

You yanked your hand out of his. “There's no us, Todd. What the hell are you doing here? How did you even get here?”

The huge head of Sleipnir shoved between the two of you causing the ruckus from the crowd to calm in awe of his presence.

“What the hell? The fuck is wrong with that horse?” Todd nearly shouted.

“He's probably a little peckish.” Thor said dryly. “Oh, you mean the legs, of course you mean the legs, everyone means the legs. It's simple really. It's because he's twice the horse you'll ever be.”

“I...what...” Todd stammered. Loki reached down and placed his hand firmly on your shoulder, either comforting you, or holding you in place so that you could not hop off your little horse and run off with Todd. Little did he know that nothing was further from your mind.

“Forgive me, where are my manners?” Thor said. “I am Thor, king of Asgard, Avenger and defender of Earth. And you are?”

“Uh, Todd Emmerst, sir, your Majesty. Big fan of your work, sir. You see, I've come all the way from Iowa to see _____ again. Now, I don't know the whole story about why she's here, but everyone back home misses her a lot, especially me. I gotta ask; do you really need to keep her? I miss her so much, is there any way you could make it so you could give me my girl back?”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm not your girl, Todd!” You snapped. “The only thing I am of yours is your ex!”

Thor glanced at you, then back. “It appears there is some discrepancy.”

“We had a disagreement.” Todd said. “She was taken away before we got the chance to make up.”

“Did I take you away from him?” Loki asked in a low whisper. “You never mentioned anyone.”

“He's not my boyfriend.” You hissed. “And I never wanted to see him again! He's a total jerk!” He was exactly what you didn't need today, or any day. “Make him go away!”

Loki's prefect eyebrows scaled his forehead. “If my Seidkona commands it.” He said, a wicked grin growing. You barely noticed a little twiddle of his fingers before the crowd started screaming.

With Sleipnir's enormous bulk between you and everything else, you couldn't see what had set them off, but if the shrieks of “Snake!” were any indication, you could certainly guess.

“Everyone get to a safe distance!” Thor shouted, and the crowd obeyed, opening up enough for the procession to pass.

“You know, Brother...” Thor said, when you were all far enough away not to be overheard. “You have been here long enough to be aware that there are no snakes in Iceland.”

“Oh, I am.” Loki said, oh-so smugly proud of himself. “But they clearly aren't.”

“They nearly trampled that man.”

“Oh, that's too bad. Nearly? I shall have to try harder next time.”

“Loki!” Thor scolded.

“I asked him to.” You piped up. “Todd can hold up a debate for hours. He would have tied us up all morning. So I asked him to hurry things along.”

“My Seidkona demanded it of me, and I was helpless under the power of her voice.” Loki said, and your face burned.

“You really dislike him?” Saldis asked. “He seemed pleasant.”

“Oh yeah, he always does when he's in public.” You said hotly. “Then you're left to wonder what happened to that guy when you get home. Why he's like this behind closed doors, why he gets so controlling and insulting when no one else can see him. Or worse, if it's all in your head, if you're really just making it all up, or if it's just you. Yeah, no thanks. Not going back to that.”

“He sounds exceptionally huglausi to me.” Loki huffed. Borgliot murmured her agreement. “And you wanted to scold me.”

“He is behind us now, and will remain that way.” Thor said. “Hopefully that will be the last interruption for the day. We have reservations to meet.”