#THE GIANT FROST STATUE

[feralthembo]

Pst..

Hey you...

Playing videogames is consuming art.....

Do with this information what you will.........

#trying to get myself to sleep and all i can think of is what the new war has done right #the visual storytelling on the zariman was magnificent #the use of contrasting lighting to indicate notable scenes like the campsites or where to go next #THE GIANT FROST STATUE #and the drifter's camp? beautiful. gorgeous. i aspire to that level of detail in my medium #AND HOW U SEE THE BITS OF THE ENTRATIS IN THE ZARIMAN???????? AAAAAA????????? #also Let Go Child. Let Go. #im AAAAAAAAAAA???? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! #ALSO RIP THAT CEPHALON TEACHER SHE WAS CUTE AF #i love the way the timelines weave around eachother too btw that shit fucks as much as the fleshmech necromancy

[fromthepinnacle2thepit]

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 - 𝒚𝒖𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

pairings: copia x reader

summary: its yule! one of the biggest celebrations in the ministry. drinking, dancing, worshiping the unholy father. but of course, something else seems to be on your mind…a certain papa. maybe he has you on his mind too?

rating: mildly spicy, VERY MILDLY, otherwise pure fluff and comfort

author note: ITALIAN TRANSLATIONS ARE AT THE BOTTOM BTW!!

Snow fell around the ministry, and the world was dark. It was as if the rooms inside the ministry had taken all the light from the world and stored it inside it’s deep unholy walls, filled with sin and the children of the dark.

But tonight? Tonight was a night of celebration. The world outside was a void, only filled with the noise of music and laughter from inside. Snow fell around the trees, covering it in a blanket of white and quiet. Lights from the stain glass windows left a kaleidoscope of colors upon the frosted and snowy earth. Footprints from the Siblings and those who traveled for the celebration marked and trampled some of the newly-fallen snow. In summary, the world outside was currently a wasteland of cold barren trees, but inside was a world of joy.

It was Yule.

A night where many came together, where Siblings danced and thrived under the eyes of the Dark One. A night of blissful sin and devotion, of love. And of celebrating the earth, the returning of the light and the cycle of the land.

Currently for you though, it had begun as a night of distress. You had paced around your room, searching for some kind of clothing to where. It was…irritating. For a night that’s meant to be so full of happiness, it seemed to bring much misfortune to your wardrobe. Eventually, you were able to put your complaining to a ceasing as your eyes laid upon a perfect thing to wear. Something you had purchased a long while back, that had slipped your mind and your field of vision by disappearing into the back of your closet. You thought it was very fitting for the theme of tonight and for the general spirit of things. And you looked..well let’s just say you were very satisfied with how it made you look. You had completed every other aspect of your look for the night, and decided to head on down to join the merriment.

You opened the door of the room that was your haven, and stepped out into the hallway of the ministry. A wall of what you could only describe as Yule hit you. Noise flooded your ears, filling them with the sounds of dancing, laughter, talking. Of course some shrieks of joy, singing, and running was mixed in. You inhaled and you felt the warm air which was filled of the smells of food and incense. And then of course, your eyes took in the rest. Decorations had been sprinkled all over the walls and you were sure that the center of all the festivities was absolutely drenched in them. You smiled to yourself as you began to watch, appreciating how festive they managed to make things look while still maintaining a dark-ish look, a gesture to the general beliefs in the Abbey.

As you walked through the halls, you saw strings of tinsel covering paintings, a ornament hanging off of one of the fingers of a statue of Lilith, and a upside-down star on top of a tree covered in dark red lights. As you came closer and closer to the giant room that held the main party, you were able to identify it as Frankincense. Candles flickered on the walls as you walked through the hallways, making things dimly light but still bringing you comfort. And it wasn’t too dark, as you could still see Siblings running in each and every direction as they prepared for the ongoing celebration. You were happy you were finally able to settle and go revel in the spirit of things. Well, not really settle, knowing the rowdiness of everyone from the Ghouls to even the Clergy on holidays.

As you were thinking, you had lost track of the time, and were surprised to see that you were already in the great big room that held so much excitement. The rest of the building had simply passed before your eyes before you could realize it.

Songs played on a speaker, and Siblings danced wildly. Though some danced slowly and rather…sensually. You chuckled to yourself as you walked over to a group of Siblings you’d grown fond of. Your eyes scanned over the crowd of members of the Abbey, and some of the Clergy. You watched, amused, as Dew chased Swiss by the food table. You wondered why but decided to stay out of it, though you were always entertained by their rambunctious behavior. Phantom seemed to be sneaking around with a few of the Ghoulettes, while other Ghoulettes were dancing. You saw Sister Imperator standing by the long table in the front, meant for the higher members of the clergy. Such as herself, the Cardinals, and of course…Papa. She seemed to look over the room as well, and you followed her gaze. A few small fires (all safe and meant purely for decoration) were scattered through the room, like little fire-pits. You hoped none of them had been started by Ghouls. Dark red ribbons flowed upon the walls, some green and black joining them. Other dark and gothic- and somehow Yuletide- decorations joined them. The entire room looked perfect. You looked back to Sister Imperator and watched as she turned to another member of the clergy, looking frazzled and concerned. You walked a little closer to her table, pretending to be watching what was now a wrestle between Dew and Swiss, and heard her say something along the lines of “Papa” and “where-?”

Ah. So that’s what it was. Papa. You couldn’t blame him for being late, all with Sister’s impossibly demanding schedule. You were friends with Papa. With Copia. You wished the two of you could talk more, but with the extremity of Sister’s demands, there wasn’t much time. So, you found a way. The first time you truly met was in a walk around the Abbey. Well, outside the abbey. You had been walking around with a book, the whether had been chilly and you were ready to head inside and take shelter deep within the comfort of the library. But the sudden warmth you had felt was not from the solace of inside the Ministry, but instead, Papa himself. You had talked to Copia a few times before he became Papa. You’d helped him when he’d dropped his books once, when you’d found one of his lost rats, when you’d randomly asked him how he was once or twice. He’d always been so sweet, so endearingly awkward. But when he bumped into you outside that one day, it felt as if for the first time, he truly saw you. His nose had been in a book as well, and that’s how the accident had come to happen.

“Le mie scuse, sorella! Stai bene?- Uh- Are you alright?” he had said, his face scrunched up in concern as he picked up his book, and yours as well.

“Yes Papa, thank you, I’m so sorry for the accident. Are you ok?” you asked quickly, unsure whether to smile or put on a face of worry.

“Sì, sì, grazie! No need to apologize, I’m- um, molto bene. All okie dokie.” he said, and you couldn’t help but smile at that. It was amusing that the Papa of the entire Dark Church, the leader of all the followers of the Dark One, used the saying “okie dokie”. You couldn’t help but quickly be enamored with his more than awkward charm.

You two had discovered you were both about to head to the library, and decided to accompany each other. You two had smiled as you entered the library, and he had quickly needed to disappear into a separate realm of literature and unholy works, while you had found a nice cozy corner. Since then, you two had found each other often in the library. Sooner than later, you two had begun to sit with each other. Not always talking, but sometimes just sitting them and enjoying each other’s presence. While you had spent time reading, lost in your own worlds, you quickly discovered that less of that time in your mind was lost in the worlds of the books, but more-so lost in your thoughts of him. How his mismatched eyes flitted over words, taking in all types of languages and symbols you couldn’t dream of knowing how to understand, how sometimes he sighed and tapped one of his fingers against the wooden table you two frequented when he was frustrated with some part of the scripture he was reading. How soft his gaze could be, and other times how hard. You took time remembering how when he was a cardinal, how the swish of his cassocks sounded in the hallways. Before you knew it, you were enraptured with him. With how he was as a whole, and in all the little moments when you could see all the different fragments of who he was.

Once, as you two had been sitting at your shared table, as you were looking over the words on the book that had barely held you attention until then, you wondered what he would think of what you read. You thought about all the different pieces of literature you had read in the past while you two had been doing this, and realized a number of little parts that instantly brought him to mind.

The next day, you hadn’t gone to the library at your shared usual time. But instead, you had given a book to the librarian (who had been watching the two of you and decided you were bound to fall in love) and had asked the librarian to give the book to Copia when he came in. She happily agreed and thanked you for coming in so often, and you were on your way.

He had come in, and had been confused as to where you were. He had been handed the book by the librarian, who gave him a smile. And suddenly a tradition was made. You two left books for each other all the time. Genres varied, and notes were left between the pages. You had come to know each other quite well, but you only wished it could be closer. Not just physically, but you longed for him. His presence. All those things you admired while he was reading and so so much more.

As you realized you’d been staring at Sister Imperator while thinking about Copia, you shook yourself out of your thoughts and went to get a drink. You wondered where he was. There were few windows in the huge room that weren’t decorated with stained glass, but through the few clear ones, you could see a heavy snow. It gave you a strange feeling, snow. A feeling of significance. Like loneliness mixed with an intimate comfort. You only wished that a certain Papa was here to share the feeling with you, here in the candlelight room full of both darkness and pure warmth. He always knew how to make you feel better, how to make you feel like suddenly the only people in the world who truly mattered in the moment was you two. He made you feel like your entire existence was burning with passion.

Suddenly, something caught your eye. It was moving in a part of the dark hallway outside the great big room. Seemingly hiding. You got curious and though you hoped you wouldn’t miss Copia’s grand entrance, though you doubted he was the type to really make one. You started moving towards the shape, pausing to survey the room one last time, as if Copia could suddenly pop out of the shadows- not that it would be uncharacteristic for his role in the Ministry. But as you settled upon the conclusion that he was simply not there yet, you decided to head to odd shape in the hallway. Your senses felt stripped of the delight of the party as you stepped back out into the dimly halls which felt as if you’d just been in them, even though by now, it had been a while since you’d been in them. You peered into the darkness ahead of you, not being able to tell if there were any shadows if it was simply the movement of light from the candles which lined the walls. However, as you grew closer you could see that there was in fact a shadow, and it was moving. It wavered for a moment, and you tried walking slower, so whoever it was wouldn’t be able to hear your footsteps and flee the privacy of the hallway. Though the shadow started moving away and you sped up, so did the shadow and it disappeared from sight. At last, you rounded the corner with one last burst of speed and saw..

…Copia?

Yep, it wasn’t just a trick of the eyes. Your unholy Papa was right there in front of you, standing in the hallway, hiding from the annual Yule party.

“Papa?” you called out, and he froze. His back was to you, and he was tense. Though, a second after you said it, he seemed to relax a little bit, as if hesitant to fully let himself relax. But as he turned around and saw you, his entire posture seemed to melt. His eyes softened and suddenly he looked so calm and natural in the candlelight. It flickered prettily across his face, illuminating his eyes so mesmerizingly, and shining off parts of his outfit. He looked like the flame of a candle himself, he had a quiet air of excitement and gracefulness. A slight smile took over his face as you two stood facing each other in the hallway. It had been a while since you’d had a rendezvous in the library or an exchange of a book, with all the holiday preparations and ceremonies.

“Sorella,” he said “You…sono ipnotizzato.”

You didn’t know what that meant, of course, so you simply smiled. “Yes, hello, Copia.”

He took a few steps towards you, but waited. So you took some.

“Mi dispiace, ero...I was hiding from the party. Not uh, not the most noble thing, eh?” he said,

“It’s quite understandable really,” you replied, and he gave a breath, a kind of sigh, and a emotion not unlike relief spread across his face.

“È così? Well, yes, I suppose so, sorella. What are you doing? Out here, I mean.” he replied, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way his Italian accent weaved throughout his words, and how Italian words spilled through more often than not. You found it enchanting. He was enchanting.

“In a way, I was looking for you. I mean, I was wondering where you were, and then I saw a shadow down this hall and decided to go figure out what was going on and here we are really!” you responded cheerfully. You couldn’t ignore the way it felt like your senses were on fire right now, it felt like every breath couldn’t come fast enough and it took all of your might not to practically implode with glee.

“That does make sense. Sì, vedo.” he said and you saw his eyes drift back down the hallway which was behind you, leading into the room of the party. You turned and looked back at it too. It looked so much more inviting now that your beloved Copia was here. Suddenly you had an idea. You took his hand, and decided to put all your doubts aside for a moment.

“Come with me. Back to the party, I mean. We can go together, it’ll be nicer to have you there, and we can hide from Sister Imperator together. And…it would be nice to spend some time with you. I’ve missed you. Plus I’m sure I’d make much better company than Sister Imperator would make if you were to go in there and get swept away by her.” you suggested, with a chuckle at the thought of Sister Imperator and all her flustered pestering.

“Well,” Copia said, and was lost in thought for a moment as he looked at you, then back at the party, then back down the hallway he was heading originally. “Ok, sorella. I would..er, well, yes I would like to go. With you.”

With those words, you lit up inside, a thrill going through you. Apparently, you lit up externally as well, as suddenly you felt a large smile on your face, and Copia chuckled, sharing the smile. You had let go of his hand, but you held it out again, ready to ask another question.

“Well then, Papa! Or, Copia, shall we?” and you let you hand hang out in front of you. He looked at it for a moment, and slowly, but a hand covered in a leather glove, into yours.

“Yes, sorella.” he said, looking from where your hands joined, up to your eyes. Your face lit up again, and you turned back towards the greatly lit room at the end of the hallway. With your hand in his, you begun walking towards it.

“Per te, gentile sorella. Sempre e solo per te.” he said, following you. His eyes reflected candlelight as you led him through the hallway. You only heard a little bit of his Italian words, and you didn’t understand them, but you didn’t recognize their significance. What you were focused on at the moment was the feeling of his hand in yours and the thought that you might get to spend the rest of this wonderful evening with him.

After a moment of reveling in the delight your senses took in being around him, you two were finally in the midst of the Yule celebration. Now that Copia was here, it felt as though your eyes allowed you to take in more, to experience more. You smiled as you looked over the room, trying to find a place where you and Copia could relax, away from the prying eyes of Sister Imperator. Yet your eyes stopped when they reached an ice statue you hadn’t noticed before. It was…a rat? You turned to Copia, your eyebrows raised and a smirk forming on your face. Copia looked at your face and it’s meaning registered in his mind, so he followed your gaze and a wave of realization washed over him when he understood.

“Ah! Si, the ice rat! A uh, nice touch, si? My idea, of course.” he said, and his childlike excitement sent a wave of comforting warmth through you. Oh Copia, dear sweet Copia.

You decided to lead him to the dance floor, where people were still dancing in all types of ways and styles.

You held out your hand to Copia again but he shook his head.

“No, sorella, I couldn’t. Non lo so..I don’t know how.” he quickly stated.

“That’s ok! Follow my lead!” you said, and before he could reply, you pulled him in. Into your arms, and into the mob of dancers. You couldn’t see it, but he both looked at you with immense focus, as he was trying to concentrate on what on earth to do. Yet the look of concentration wasn’t alone, it was accompanied by a look of awe. He thought you looked so beautiful.. if only you could know.

You two whirled along. You knew some people were watching, as you were dancing with Papa for Lucifer’s sake. You knew that on other nights, the feeling of all their eyes would’ve made you uncomfortable. But this time, you could barely recognize the fact that they were even on you in the first place. You were more focused on the unholy man you were absolutely enamored with. You smiled as he slowly began to get the hang of the dance. Within an instant, your feeling of happiness was overpowered by the feeling of pure thrill that was caused by the feeling of his fingers tightening comfortably against your waist, and his gloved hand meeting yours as the music carried on. He gazed at you with a look that captivated you. A smile, an intense one, but it wasn’t a smirk. You hoped for a moment, you prayed to the Fallen One, that maybe, just maybe, it was love. Out of nervousness, you began to talk.

“You know, I would’ve thought you’d have loved tonight! I was surprised when I saw you in that hallway!” you said, trying to speak louder than the music. After you said your thoughts though, you began to understand and realize more of why he might’ve preferred the quiet. You wouldn’t have minded the quiet either. As long as it was with him.

“Oh! Huh, ehehe, why do you think that, sorella?” He says, chuckling at the way the world is spinning around you two, at the joy of the moment.

“Well, because all of the partying!” you say, but quickly you realize how mistaken that statement is, and how you meant something so different.

“Huh? Cosa intendi?” he asked, very very confused, hoping you didn’t misunderstand his personality, his flirting as something different. Though he realized- to his dismay- you had not realized his flirting. It was funny though, because he had not realized yours.

“I’m sorry, that came out very wrong. I just meant that it seems like the kind of holiday celebration you’d appreciate. The closeness, the gift giving, the pretty dark decorations, snow. Oh! And the worship.” you all say, and he loves watching you talk. You watch his face as you say the words too, trying to soak up every single detail of how he processes your words.

“Oh..si, the worship, eh?” He says, quite awkwardly. Worship. Devotion. Giving your all, wishing for the all of another thing. What he felt for you.

You gave him a confused look, “Yes Pa- Copia. Worship.”

“Cara mia, the only thing I’m worshipping tonight is you.”

Your eyes grew wide with that statement, huge. You took in the man in front of you, and you felt your heart soar- did you hear him right? The music was so loud, you couldn’t tell. But the way he was looking at you, dear Satanas. You’d give yourself up at the alter if it meant feeling his soul collide with yours. A loud noise startled you, and the music shut off. The culprit of this interruption? Ah. Of course. Sister Imperator. She stood behind the very long table in the middle of it, facing everyone. She was the face of independence and organization. Oh no, she had a microphone. You felt Copia’s body way lightly next to yours and you realized your hands were still intertwined from the dancing. The thought that the two of you were still touching was seared into your mind. It burned your very existence. Should you pull away? You felt one of your fingers twitch and cursed yourself mentally. He looked over at you and you saw his eyes were also wide. Sister Imperator lifted the microphone to her mouth and the entire room held it’s breath.

“Siblings, Ghouls, Clergy, and others! Welcome to our annual Yule festivities! We thank each and every one of you for attending and giving devotion to the Dark One with us..”

Sister Imperator’s speech went on, but Copia was too focused on you to truly listen to it. Did you hear what he had said about worshipping you? Wait..no. His face burned red as he realized you might’ve taken it in a..different way. A sexual way. That you might’ve thought he wanted you that way. Did he want you that way? Well he knew the answer to that, but did you know the answer to that? Oh Lucifer. He cursed himself for how clumsy he was with his words. He felt himself grow warmer as he thought of how you might think of him now. But he hadn’t meant it in a sexual way. Well, he could mean it that way. If you wanted to- but still it was very early for that- but. All of his thoughts were a mess and jumbled together. He just meant he wanted to appreciate all of you. Give you his all, his devotion, his love. And maybe, have you return that? Though the more he thought about it, the more he realized how unlikely it was. And the sinking feeling he had begun to feel grew more until it took over his every emotion. He reluctantly let go of your hand, and you looked over at him, with a sad face. Wait, a sad face. He was so confused, highs and lows surrounded every thought in his head.

After a minute of blocking out Sister Imperator’s speech, and thinking, he decided that this was Yule, the celebration of the returning of the light, and of the Dark One. That he must have hope.

Little did he know, you were thinking the exact same thing.

You two longed for each other. Must unbeknownst to you both. And soon enough, you both had tuned back in to the speech, as you both processed it was nearing it’s end.

“May this holiday of Yule bring you many joys and connections with our Unholy Father! Nema. Let the festivities continue!” Sister Imperator said. Just as she lowered the microphone from her mouth, and was scanning across the room, her hawk-like eyes finally landed on you two.

“You.” you both saw her mouth from across the room, and your eyes grew wide. You turned to Copia and saw as his eyes widened as well, and he tensed immediately. Suddenly his eyes began to move and you looked back over, to follow them. Sister Imperator had begun to move across the room, and was heading towards you two. And she certainly did NOT look like a ray of sunshine at the moment.

You grabbed Copia’s arm and tugged on his sleeve.

“Copia, go, go!” you said, and begun to pull him along with you. You both raced out of the room, your hearts beating heart, and people parting to watch you two. You entered the hallway and heard Sister Imperator yell something behind you two, but all you could do was laugh. And laugh hard. Suddenly Copia began too. And you kept running, hearing the clacking of her heels on the stone floor a ways behind you two. In all the excitement, you hadn’t noticed that Copia had moved from your grip, and put his gloved hand in yours. You raced through the hallway, making it echo with laughter and your footsteps, running past random Siblings, the occasional pair of people who had abandoned the party to make out in the hallway, you both ran past statues and paintings, through more hallways and past many doors. Before you knew it the sound of Sister Imperator following you two had faded away but either you didn’t notice or you didn’t care. Copia didn’t seem to acknowledge either of those, he was laughing too. Suddenly, you two came to a pair of huge doors. You both slammed into one, and it opened.

A wave of cold hit you, along with a large amount of beautiful snowflakes. You stumbled into the snowy outside world, still laughing. And Copia stumbled with you, always willing to follow. You gazed around as you laughed, then suddenly turned to Copia.

“Come on!” you said, and began to pull Copia along again. He followed and you both raced in the snow, almost tripping, but feeling too free and happy to care. You stopped when you both reached a calm area. The sounds of the party were barely audible. You were by a small cemetery that was on the grounds, surrounded by trees. But you were still close to the Abbey, it was all so connected. You slowed and caught your breath. You looked over at Copia, who to your surprise, was looking at you. He looked happy and free, more carefree than you’d ever seen him. He looked hopeful, and at the same time- hungry.

Much to your surprise, he began moving towards you, the snow falling around you both made it seem all the more important and beautiful. He reached you, and for a split second, it seemed as if your souls really were colliding. Not on the alter as you’d imagined earlier, but here. In the cold snow, in a world of your own with him.

His lips quickly connected with yours as he decided to collide with you in a different way. He wanted you, in any way you would give yourself, he would take any and all of you. His hands came up to your face, as if to cradle it, cherishing every single mark on your skin, admiring how every snowflake looked upon you. He seemed to worship you. As he’d said. You felt worshipped.

This was what he had meant. He moved his lips against yours and he reveled in the way that your body was against him, making him feel warm despite the frozen world around you two. Like you had thought earlier, right now, you were surrounded by a world full of darkness and at the same time, the most comforting warmth. With his arms around you, and a unspoken promise of worship, you felt that feeling the snow had given you before. A feeling of loneliness and significance, an intimate comfort. But this time it wasn’t loneliness, it was love. It was the feeling of having the world all to yourself, with the one person that truly mattered.

So the snow fell around you two, as the world seemed to excuse itself from your minds for a while. Leaving you two to bask in the cold air of winter, on the night of Yule, and simply, wonderfully, and wholly, worship each other.

Authors note: hello! i hope you guys enjoyed this! i plan on making more copia fics very soon! take care of yourself!!

i’d like to give credit to: @gggoldfinch for all their hard work and their amazing fic: Cemetary Gates!! Some themes in this were greatly inspired by their work, and their fic is by far the best Copia x reader I have ever read!

the grucifix artwork is done by the one and only: @gothdaddyissues

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Italian Translations:

Le mie scuse, sorella! Stai bene? - My apologies, sister! Are you ok?

Sì, sì, grazie - Yes, yes, thank you

Molto bene - Very good

Sorella - Sister

Sono ipnotizzato - I’m hypnotized

Mi dispiace, ero - I’m sorry, I was…

È così? - Is that so?

Si, vedo - Yes, I see.

Per te, gentile sorella. Sempre e solo per te. - For you, kind sister. Always and only for you.

Non io so… - I don’t know…

Cosa intendi? - What do you mean?

Cara mia - my dear

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[feyspeaker]

In the shadow of the light from a black sun Frigid statue standing icy, blue, and numb Where are the frost giants I've begged for protection? type o negative too late: frozen

something different. the heat is killing me and I've missed rendering paintings.

#vampire #fantasy #blood #fangs #teeth #horror #horror art

[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART SIX

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 3,511 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, allusions to eating disorders, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

You shoveled chocolate cake into your mouth while George Michael crooned “Careless Whisper” into the cold, dark depths of your soul: “I’m never gonna dance again… Guilty feet have got no rhythm…” 

You sang along with your mouth full, crumbs spewing from your lips, stopping only to take another bite, another swig of punch. You were drunk on your own misery because nobody had bothered to spike the punch bowl. Yeah, apparently you were attending the one dry prom in the entire country, but that was A-okay because this smooth, melancholy sax was sending you swirling into despair and nothing mattered anymore. 

You finished one plate of cake, licked your fork clean, then reached for another. That’s how Chrissy found you: three slices deep in chocolate cake, with frosting smeared all over your face. She came up to you like a mother approaching her paint-splattered toddler and said, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just eating my feelings…” 

“Yeah, I can see that.” She surveyed the damage with a frown. “Where’d you get all the cake?” 

“I stole it off that table over there.” You gestured with your hand. “Not my proudest moment… and yet, somehow, not my lowest tonight, either.” You sliced through the stolen cake with your fork, another huge chunk, and—down the hatch!—stuffed it all into your mouth. 

Chrissy sucked in a breath through her teeth, grimacing as she watched you. “Oh boy,” she said, and sat down beside you. “Okay, sweetie, tell me what happened.”

“I took your advice. I tried to talk to Eddie, I tried to be nice, and I went down hard in a giant blaze of glory. Like, it was cataclysmic, Chris. You should have seen it. We’re talking ‘Mount Vesuvius erupting’ bad, ‘meteor killing all the dinosaurs’ bad. Like, I just single-handedly wiped out an entire civilization in a matter of seconds. Total carnage. No survivors. He yelled at me, Chris. He actually yelled at me, and you know, I always thought I’d be turned on by him yelling, but I wasn’t. Honestly, I’m kinda traumatized by the whole thing, and… uhh, yeah… now I’m sitting here eating cake with my good friend George Michael. He has a lovely voice, don’t you think?” 

You went back for more cake, and Chrissy snatched the fork out of your hand. “Okay, that’s enough sugar for you.” 

You snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ll just throw it up later.” 

Chrissy winced.

“Oh—” You slapped your hand over your mouth and sank into your chair, a shameful blush engulfing your face. “Oh my god, Chris, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… you know, all the lactose, it’s gonna make me sick later, that’s all I meant. I swear, I wasn’t trying to…”

Chrissy’s smile was warm and forgiving. “I know. It’s okay.” She scooted closer to you, then handed you a napkin and told you to wipe your face. While you were doing that, she said, “All right, just out of curiosity… when you were talking to Eddie, were you talking to him like you and I talk? Or were you just making a lot of jokes at his expense?”

“That’s not fair, Chris. I’ve known you my whole life.”

“Just answer the question.” 

You puffed up your cheeks and blew out. “Fine, I was making jokes, but they weren’t mean or anything. I just…” You hung your head. “I don’t know how to talk to him, Chris. It’s like, he looks at me and my heart starts beating really fast and I just go into panic mode, and I start hurling insults like hand grenades. It’s like World War II in my head, and I’m deep in the trenches. And I know I’m messing it up. I can hear myself messing it up. All the warning bells are going off: Abort mission! Abort mission! But I can’t stop myself! I insult his clothes and his music, and I sacrifice him to demons.” 

Chrissy said, “Wait, what? Demons?”

“Yeah… I kinda sacrificed him to a demon back in middle school—well, his character, not him. This didn’t happen in real life or anything. It was in a game: Dungeons & Dragons. I dunno if you’ve heard of it, but… it’s surprisingly fun. You get to make your own character and everything.” 

“And sacrifice people to demons, apparently.”

“Yeah—well, no, you aren’t really supposed to do that. I kinda went rogue and ruined the whole game.” 

“That sounds more accurate.” Chrissy giggled into her hand, then tipped her head at you and smiled. “Oh… what am I gonna do with you?”

“Trade me in for a newer model?” 

Chrissy shook her head. “Nah… I’ve grown kinda attached to you.” She took your napkin and carefully dabbed some frosting off your chin. Then she put her hands on your knees and said in a calm, reassuring voice, “Hey, listen to me: it’s just Eddie. You’re not exactly talking to Steve Perry here.” 

“Well, at this point I think I’d have a better shot with Steve Perry.” 

“Yeah… he’s a famous rock star, so somehow I doubt that.” 

“Well, you don’t know how charming I can be.” You pressed your hand to your chest and fluttered your lashes.

Chrissy laughed at you. “Actually, I know exactly how charming you can be, which is why it breaks my heart to see you like this. Seriously, what are you so afraid of? Him not liking you back?” 

“Oh, he definitely doesn’t like me back. Yeah, I’d say him yelling in my face kinda solidified that.” 

Chrissy said, “Well, then you have nothing to lose, right?” and you went quiet. “Just talk to him. Don’t overthink it. Don’t make jokes. And please, for the love of God, don’t insult the guy. Just walk up to him and be honest. Say, ‘Eddie, I’m an idiot—I’m an adorable idiot, but an idiot. I’ve been in love with you for six years, but I never knew how to express my feelings. I’d very much like to marry you and have your babies’—Ha!” She absorbed your half-hearted slap, giggling as she did. 

“Just talk to him,” she said. “I promise you’ll feel better once you do.” 

“Yeah, that’s easy for you to say. You confess to a guy and he’s basically winning the lottery. I do it and it’s like, Sorry, son, there’s been a death in the family.” 

“Oh, that’s not true, and you know it. You’re the lottery, too.” 

“Yeah, maybe the penny scratcher…” 

Chrissy shook her head. “Now you’re just being silly.” 

But you weren’t. You weren’t joking at all. 

Silence fell over the table as the music seamlessly transitioned into The Dream Academy’s folksy cover of “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths. Another slow, painfully depressing song, but this one was even worse because it carried this pathetic sense of yearning that stabbed and twisted into your heart like a dagger. 

You braced yourself for another three minutes of torture when, out of nowhere, a phantom voice said, “Wanna dance?”

You looked to your left and felt your stomach flip. It was Jason Carver, standing beside you with an outstretched hand, looking like a damn Ken doll in his prom tux. (You had made that joke more than once. Chrissy always hated it: “I swear to God, if you call me Barbie, I’ll kill you.”)

You flinched away from him, blushing. “Oh… no thanks, I don’t really—” 

“Come on, it’s our last prom. You gotta do at least one slow dance.” Jason’s smile was confident and irresistibly charming. 

You stared at his hand for a minute, your stomach twisting into all kinds of knots; then you glared at Chrissy. “You put him up to this, didn’t you?”

She put up her hands and backed away from the table. “Hey, don’t look at me…” 

And before you could further protest, Jason took your hand and effortlessly lifted you out of your chair, making your knees buckle as soon as you put weight on them. The anxiety was hitting you like a train now and dragging your body over the tracks. What if you stepped on his foot? What if you scuffed up his shoes? They looked like some really expensive shoes. Could you actually afford to replace them? What if your breath smelled terrible? What if you had chocolate cake in your teeth? (Oh my god, you definitely had chocolate cake in your teeth!) You two were going to be standing face to face, practically nose to nose. He was going to see everything. The peach fuzz on your face. The huge pores on your nose. What if Jason saw all these glaring imperfections and thought, Wow, she’s somehow even uglier up close? 

Well, then you would simply die. 

Panicking, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “Wait, Jason, I…”

Jason chased your hand, caught it, and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Hey, come on. Just relax, okay? I promise I won’t step on your feet.” 

“Yeah, but I…” You saw your reflection in his dazzling blue-grey eyes and suddenly lost your will to resist.

The next two minutes felt like two hours. 

Here you were, slow dancing with Jason Carver in the middle of the dance floor. His hands were around your waist, holding you close like you were his real date and not just some last-minute tagalong. Your arms were draped around his neck, stiff and awkward at first, but gradually loosening as you swayed to the music. It was surreal, being this close to him: feeling his heart beating against yours, feeling the heat of his breath on your face whenever he spoke, whenever he laughed at one of your jokes. 

Ten-year-old you would have been so happy right now. She would have floated home on a cloud, spent the rest of the night daydreaming about Jason Carver and gushing about him in her diary. Savor that sweet naivety, kid, because in a few years it’ll all be gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you let yourself daydream, get so caught up in your fantasies that you had to pinch your arm just to bring yourself back to reality. You tried, but you could never seem to get your feet off the ground. They were just so heavy. 

Then after a while, you just stopped trying.

“You know, I used to be really jealous of you,” Jason said after a while.

“What?” you said. “Why?”

Jason looked at you like you were insane, like it was so painfully obvious. “You’re Chrissy’s favorite person in the world, and you always will be. Whenever something good happens, you’re her first phone call. When she’s upset, she goes running to you for comfort. And that just kills me because I wanna be that person for her too, and I’m scared I never will be.”

You frowned. “Yeah, we kinda have a weird codependency thing going on. It’s probably really unhealthy, actually…” 

Jason laughed. “It’s not, it’s great, and I’m so glad she has you. Honestly, I am.” His smile was so sincere and sad, it broke your heart a little. “Look, Chrissy is amazing, easily the best thing that ever happened to me, but I know she only shows me the good side of her. The happy side. She smiles for me and cries for you. She doesn’t trust me enough to show me her ugly side, and I don’t know how to change that. I’m scared to bring it up because I don’t wanna push her away, but I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do.” 

“Jason, trust me, you’re already doing exactly what you’re supposed to do.” When you said this, you felt your chest tighten. “Maybe I just need to step back a little, give you two some space.”

“What? No, that’s not what I—”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. “Jason, it’s fine, really. Honestly, I think that’ll be the best thing for both of us. I mean, we can’t lean on each other forever, right?”

You laid your chin on his shoulder and stared across the dance floor to where your best friend was sitting with a huge smile. 

Of course Chrissy wasn’t jealous watching you dance with her boyfriend. No, that hideous emotion was reserved just for you. You were the one who was never satisfied with what you had. You were the one constantly comparing yourself to everyone else. Judging yourself. Weighing yourself. Hating yourself. 

Here you were, slow dancing with Jason Carver, being the envy of every girl at prom, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to switch places with Chrissy Cunningham, to be sitting right where she was. 

Because that’s where he was going. 

As you watched Eddie approach Chrissy, as you watched them talk, Jason started singing under his breath: “Please, please, please… Let me get what I want… Lord knows it will be the first time…” and you buried your face in his shoulder and squeezed your eyes shut real tight.

Chrissy stared at Eddie Munson with knitted brows. “You’re asking me to dance? Why?”

“Uhh… because I want to? I don’t really know how else to answer that.” Eddie scratched the back of his neck, feeling both nervous and bashful as he stood before her in his suit jacket and ripped jeans. “Umm, look, you don’t have to say yes or anything. Seriously, just say the word and I’ll get outta your way and leave you alone. I just thought, y'know, since it’s the last prom and all…”

Chrissy cut him off. “Yeah, but why? I never even talk to you, so why would you wanna dance with me?”

“Well, I uhh…” Eddie cleared his throat a few times, then let out a nervous chuckle. “Wow, you’re really putting me on the spot here, aren’t you? Umm, okay, well… that’s a little difficult to answer, and I’m probably gonna shoot myself in the foot for saying this, but... Wait, are you okay?” 

Chrissy was staring off towards the dance floor, where her boyfriend was dancing with her best friend, and as she did, her whole expression just kind of wilted into this guilty, miserable look that cut Eddie to his core. 

“Oh shit,” he said. “Hey, look, I’m not trying to get in the way of anything here. I know you have a boyfriend and that’s totally cool. I just…”

Now Chrissy had her hands cupped over her mouth, appearing on the verge of tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, to seemingly no one at all. Then she looked up at Eddie, her blue eyes sparkling like two gorgeous sapphires, and she said the words he had been dreading most of all. “Look, I’m really sorry, but I can’t dance with you tonight.” 

She pushed past him and walked away, leaving Eddie gutted and standing alone with his heart in his hand. 

“Okay,” he said after the initial shock had worn off, “that was fucking brutal.”

When you finally opened your eyes again, you were facing the opposite side of the room and staring at a wall of familiar faces. But one in particular caught your eye. It stole the breath from your lips and made your face go white with terror… as if you were seeing a ghost. 

Your legs felt so heavy as you broke away from Jason and stormed across the dance floor. Once you got close enough, you opened your mouth to yell, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper. 

“I thought you had food poisoning!” You hissed the words like it was a curse, like you were trying to banish his spirit back to the grave. 

Chance Gallagher turned toward you with a cup of punch in his hand and a pretty girl at his side. “Oh shit,” he said, looking like a rat caught in a trap. “What are you doing here?” 

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? What are you doing here? I thought you were sick.”

“Yeah, well, I uhh…” 

“You got better, huh?” There was a lump in your throat as you watched Chance fidget with his tie, loosening it so he could breathe more easily. The color of it matched your dress perfectly, but it also matched the dress of his pretty new date, along with the corsage that dangled from her wrist. It was your favorite flower. You figured it was hers, too. 

You rubbed your brow furiously, struggling to fully grasp the situation. “Wait, I think I’m a little outta the loop here… If you didn’t actually wanna go to prom with me, why did you even ask me in the first place?”

Chance’s shoulders went up and down uncaringly. “Because Jason asked me to.” 

His words hit you like a sucker punch to the jaw. You staggered back and shook your head. “What? Jason asked you to…?” 

Of course, you thought. Of course, Jason put him up to it. Why else would someone like Chance Gallagher ask you to prom? Chance was popular, Chance was on the basketball team, and who the hell were you but Chrissy Cunningham’s bitchy best friend? You knew he wasn’t actually interested in you. Hey, you? The guy didn’t even know your name! That little voice in your head tried to warn you—it was practically screaming at you!—but you didn’t listen to it. No, you let yourself wish and dream and get swept up in all the grandeur of prom, but it was all bullshit. Fake, plastic, bullshit. And you shouldn’t have come in the first place. 

You ran into Jason and Chrissy on your way out. As soon as you saw Jason, you pointed your finger in his face and screamed at the top of your lungs, “YOU SELFISH SONOFABITCH! YOU TRIED TO PAWN ME OFF TO YOUR FRIEND!” 

Chrissy’s face scrunched up with confusion. “What? Jason, what is she talking about?”

Jason opened his mouth and closed it again. His stormy blue eyes were writhing with guilt. 

“He forced Chance to ask me to prom, Chris. He made him do it. What, did you have to pay him? How much was I worth, Jason? Twenty bucks? Thirty? Did you get a good deal out of it, at least?”

Jason exploded: “Oh, come on, of course I didn’t pay him! I would never insult you like that!”

“Right, you would just force me onto your friends like some chore!”

Jason shook his head furiously. “No, that’s not what it was! I swear to God it wasn’t. Look, all I did was ask Chance to do me a favor, that’s all. I didn’t know he was gonna flake on you like that. If I’d known, I never would’ve asked him to do it in the first place.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the dirty blond roots. “I just wanted everyone to have a good time. That’s all I was trying to do.” 

“I don’t believe you,” you said as a tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. “No, you wanna know what I think, Jason? I think you wanted to have a good time, and I was in your way. Well, don’t worry, Jason, I’m getting out of your way now, so you go ahead and enjoy your perfect little prom, okay? I’m done.” 

You turned to leave and Chrissy was at your elbow, crying and begging you to stay. 

You said to her, “No, please, I don’t wanna be the one that ruins your night, and I really don’t wanna cry anymore. And I know if I’m around you, I’m gonna completely fall apart and… I just need some time by myself, okay? I’ll be fine, I will, I just… I really need to get outta here.” 

You tore away from her and saw dozens of eyes bearing down on you. Preps. Jocks. Nerds. Cheerleaders. Sally, Sarah, and Stacy, standing there looking so damn pleased by your misfortune. Like this was just perfect, wasn’t it? Like it was exactly what you deserved.

You squirmed away from their eyes, all of their eyes, and ran up the stairs and out the door.

Now here you were, sitting on the dirty floor of the women’s restroom and crying in your prom dress while "Endless Love" sent you spiraling right back to middle school. All you needed was a bucket of pigs' blood dropped on you, and your night was complete.

You ripped off your corsage and whipped it at the garbage can. Then you slumped down, knocked your head against the wall, wiped some of the mascara off your cheeks, and thought, God, this night can’t possibly get any… 

The door burst open and—“Oh shit!”—Eddie Munson came stumbling into the bathroom like a drunken idiot after a bar fight. He spun around, catching himself on the wall, and then pushed his back against the door. 

His brown eyes bulged as they locked with yours. 

“Uhh… hi. How's your night going?”

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

#eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #chrissy cunningham #jason carver #chrissy x jason #eddie x chrissy #stranger things 4 #st4 #ambrossart #dancing with myself #dwm #eddie munson imagine #fanfiction

[chantsdemarins]

The Breath of the Æsir 🏰 (Loki x Reader) Chapter 2: The Stranger

Okay friends, I re-wrote Chapter 2. I was not happy with it after a friend pointed out to me that it needed work. Making me remember I really need a beta reader! *Any takers?

I hope those who might have read the first one will give this version a try!! As always reblogging and comments are the most amazing experience for me as a writer in this community. Thank you for reading and waiting. I am trying to get on a schedule I can stick to!

Summary: This is Loki's side of the story so far, as the world he finds himself in stirs into turmoil. What will the nature of your relationship be under these circumstances?

Smut Meter: Calm wildfire status

Word Count: 3,141 (give or take)

Loki

Loki was hiding among the Æsir. His true origin was not of theirs. Fárbauti, a frost giant, had been responsible for pulling him out of the tight silence and into form, so he could live among the Gods. A thin agreement had occurred between Odín and the Jötunn. This agreement was unknown to Loki. Odín would raise him. All his life, stirring in his veins was the blood of another people, another realm. The ornate mirrors in Asgard reflected back to him the image of a handsome spell caster with Æsir features. There was only ever the slightest feeling, that perhaps, his near-constant discontent, was related to the architecture of a family lie.

He knew where there was limitation, there was often equal illumination. Therefore, this conflict gave Loki insight into many aspects of the universe, some of which he would never have known had he not been born for deceit. This dual vision of light and dark created a natural and gradual buildup of powers, which he had no reason not to abuse. Where he lacked morals, he was tempered by circumstance back into some code of character that appeased both his father and whatever party he had offended by his lack of grace and concern. However, from time to time, something would cause him to change, more permanently, more absolutely. These events were so profound when they happened that the Skalds, both in Asgard and Midgard, told of them. Sometimes humans would be caught in the lava of the Gods' path. You were one of those humans. The day Loki lay close to one of his possible deaths, you had found him.

He was banished because he had seen enough. His contrary disposition had rejected the Northman’s insistence on placing his royal family at the heart of their bloody conquest. Thor, Freyja, Frigg—and Odín—had been brought deep into the conflict moving across the belly of Midgard. They used incantations and sacrifices to move the will of the Gods in their favor. Loki disliked this immensely. He did not like to be appeased with tokens. The ground of Asgard was saturated with the blood of Midgard. This disturbed him so much and ate at his being until he could stand it no longer. He cursed Thor, cursed Odín for the part they played in encouraging such worship.

In the throes of his discontent, Loki quickly discovered a God cannot have everything. For example, he could not have his opinion and his magic. Odín told him to go see for himself. Go see why the humans needed the Gods. See their fragility and need for guidance. He would be begging him to return to Asgard. “Go experience their ignorance with only a sword to protect you from it,” Odín had said to him.

When Loki decided to take a great risk, a great calamitous excitement would concurrently erupt. His enduring life and the lives of the Gods needn’t be so pristine and eternal. He longed for the shorter life of the Midgardians. He wanted to feel what life would be like if you only had a few years before you became permanent food for the beetles and worms. He needed to feel time slipping away from his grasp. So, without any seiðr, he nakedly stepped through the Bifrost and fell to Earth, fell to the home of the Midgard serpent, one of his many children, of which he was not the only father.

When he opened his eyes and began to walk across the hillside, so indulgently green it hurt. He took a moment and said a prayer to the elemental spirits that spun such colors into life on Midgard. They were independent of any God's influence, even ones with their full powers. The elementals were bonded to Midgard herself as servants. Loki could only admire their spinning of forms; he still had incredible vision even without any magic. He could see into their structural design and could listen to the hum of their cellular respiration. Loki was not the God of such things as fertility, but he felt himself in a keen understanding of it. He truly saw his station in the nine realms as a God responsible for making life, more than the ending of it. Not that any of the Gods would ever understand this about him. Creators often end up destroying their most precious creations just because they can. Loki had come to Midgard to change this.

He walked with careful trepidation; he was mortal now, and even though his heart soared with the thrill of his new lot, he did not want his tenure on Earth to be over so quickly. So, he cautiously guarded his path over the verdant hillside in the quiet of the afternoon. Things were seemingly calm, still, which actually began to worry Loki. Silence could mean only two things: peace or death. As he continued walking to gain a better view, he encountered a sight he was not prepared to see just yet. The ruins of a village burned in a heavy cascade of smoke. He quickly remembered he had no power to change the circumstances before him. He thought of Thor—would he truly celebrate this use of his name? He wished they would have the courage to do as he did, to come and see the work of the humans. Loki would have to be the eyes of the gods this time. Just as his contemplation ended, he felt the ground beneath him bend in a rhythmic flutter—horses. It was the same in any realm; the beasts were among the most powerful of all creations. Some could even fly, but not these. These heavy beasts carried their masters, who likely spotted him from their outposts.

They saw a stranger overlooking their burned village and identified him as one of the raiders, one of the pillagers, not as the God who made such acts possible. He looked up just in time to see a sword brandished by one of the riders. With a quick and skillful blow, he was impaled in his stomach. It had only been a few hours since his arrival, and already he was vanquished by the Norns. He fell, consumed by defeat and physical pain, his armor pierced. They spoke in their language, seemingly arguing whether they should take him captive. Perhaps they would have if they had not just suffered such a great loss. They left him to die and rode away without looking back.

The Encounter

Loki was consumed with a pain he had never felt before; it was completely debilitating. No sooner had he arrived on Midgard as a human he was swept away into the saga of their fragility. He couldn’t believe he was once so interested to experience this, to feel his life expiring and his pulse weaken. His heart was slowing, and every breath felt like he was uncertain if yet another would follow. He now worried that if he were to die on Midgard like this, his death would remain unknown, and his family would not find him before the vultures tore the newly minted mortal flesh from his bones. He fell into a fever quickly and began to dream of the frozen landscapes of his true birth home, of Jötunheim. His Asgardian façade was fading with every labored breath.

It was just his luck that as he could take no further steps, he reached the courtyard lined with thorny gorse, which pierced the white of his skin as he fell through the yellow flowers, leaving droplets of blood forming from yet another location other than his stomach. He called out something from a tongue he knew from Midgard, although he knew not where and when it was from. He saw you in the doorway before he closed his eyes; he wasn’t sure if he would open them again. He hoped that if he did, you would be there beside him. It was the tiniest of wishes; he was sure you were a Valkyrie. Not having enough blood in his veins to remember there were no Valkyries on Earth, his eyes shut, and the world of Midgard faded from his senses.

He had felt the jostling of stitches, the pulling of thread against his taut skin. He saw you, Valkyrie, with golden threads weaving his wound closed. He swore he heard you tell him his body was a tapestry, one you could embroider. He laughed at the thought of being sewn together by a fierce battle goddess of the nine realms. He worried about his weakness. He did not like the vulnerability that consumed him as he fought to return to the living. Part of him remembered the icy cold feeling of space he once felt as he let go of Thor and drifted off into the void, only to be intercepted by a race of beings so deadly and diabolical, he knew he wouldn’t be able to die enough times to satisfy their lust for power and domination. Part of him rested in the knowledge that you would make him whole again. The Norns had led him to a warrior who was also a weaver, a tailor.

He Lives, for Now

"Gef þú seiðr þinn mér," Loki mumbled once he was finally able to awaken. Sweat covered his face. A chill coursed through him. You had saved him just as he had predicted. He was still alive, but he was not yet well at all. "What is seiðr?" you immediately asked. You did not have what this man was asking for, and you would not be robbed of what you did have. Leaping to your feet, you grabbed the knife you had uncovered from his person while the man slept. Loki found himself once again at the receiving end of iron—only this time, it was his own.

"How quickly I forgot this is how people communicate, regardless of their station," Loki mused, clutching his stomach, fingers running along your needlework which now adorned him. "Communicate? Sir, you are in my home. I saved your life, and now you ask me for something else. What else could you want, unless you are the thief and murderer my servants say you are? Are they right? Have you come to kill us?" Your voice was a barely audible trill, but every vowel entered his ear as if it were a drum beating away shadows inside of him. You looked so shaky and unsure Loki was immediately disoriented.

As a Valkyrie, you would be more skillful, potentially than him. Why were you not wielding your own blade? Loki’s mind puzzled in a million different directions. In the chosen tongue, he rattled off an inquiry about where he was, now remembering he was on Earth as he came to. He needed you to confirm it. You told him the name of this small village, and Loki more solidly realized you were actually a human woman, seemingly. He found his voice hidden beneath the swell of feelings rising in his chest. "Do you know how to use that knife, woman? Don't wield something you aren't prepared to use, and why would you undo your handiwork?" Loki pointed to the careful stitches across his body. "You know me not, sir," you retorted. "I have unraveled nearly all the needlework I started. I have thrashed threads from one tapestry to another; I have no finished embroidery to show for it, so sir, flicking the threads that hold your guts in would be no long consideration."

The words that flew out of your mouth betrayed all your education and training. Never in your life had you spoken to a man like this, not to your father and surely never to your husband, but this man seemed to be able to feel and hear anything you might say. You didn’t know why you knew that, but you did. Perhaps it was the sewing him up that gave you such a perspective. The candlelight study of his stomach. You thought of the fine line that jutted across his abdomen where you had let your fingers trace in a kind of stoic appreciation for a moment while applying your stitches to his wound. You suspected your husband’s stomach did not have muscular curvature. The stranger was the first man you’d ever seen naked. You let yourself consider that for the briefest of moments before you returned to your senses and your defense of your home. By no means had you an understanding of just who this man was and what he was capable of even in his weakened state.

Loki continued to consider your origins. You could not be a simple incarnation of a human. Perhaps you were actually Asgardian, another traveler like himself, grown discontent with the trappings of the ethereal realm and transplanted to Midgard. He had known others who had come; his idea of leaving had not been a unique one. The Norns might have given him some grace after all, by leading him to you. Yet if you were a fragile mortal with a much shorter life than his, you wore your timeline with such grace, that it completely startled him. You were closer to the end of your short life than the beginning, perhaps you knew this and were prepared to defend what little you had accumulated. Or maybe it was something else that inspired such bold words. "What do they call you?" you finally spoke again, daring to continue. "Loki." His name was a rune itself, a spell, the only magic he had left. He wondered if you would feel its power. "Loki," you repeated, his name flowed from your heart to your feet, causing your body to feel heavy. You landed on the velvet living room chair with a crash. Loki, who had been situated in the other chair, leaped up beyond the ability his body should have allowed. "Woman," he said, daring to near you. "Please wake." He had not expected you to faint.

As he drew closer to you, he wasn't sure if you had fainted or passed to some other realm. You looked so peaceful. He held your head and for a moment dared to place a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your eyes struggled to open. "Loki," you murmured, not having heard the name before, but its composition—the four sounds—collided, perhaps stealing your breath. His concern for you was evident on his face, but it quickly faded, replaced by something akin to fear. Loki was startled by how swiftly Midgard's emotions were becoming his own. He had known so little of fear and now he was becoming proficient in all its shades and hues.

Suddenly a deep knock on the door and frantic voices could be heard from outside in the courtyard. A group of tenants had gathered, yelling and frantic. Perhaps the worst of your fears had materialized. Not only were you harboring a man, but now the townsfolk knew and had come to confront you about it in your husband’s absence. You did not want to open the door. You glanced at Loki, who had stepped further back into the darkness of the living room while you found your footing. "Lady, you should answer them," Loki's voice was a mere shadow, yet you trusted it to your surprise. Elinor was also nowhere to be found, and you were once again left to make decisions by yourself. This introduction with the stranger would have to further wait. With all your strength, you walked across the room and unlocked the large, heavy door. Before you could open it fully, the crowd of tenants crashed into your home and fell against you. There were strict conditions under which the manor lords ruled, and such an intrusion was likely less a group coming to judge your guest but one of desperation you immediately recognized.

You gasped for air and tried to calm them, beseeching one of the tenants to explain what had happened. "They are here, the slaughter wolves," Æthaldan, the young blacksmith, finally spoke wildly. The rest of their voices were a blur, a scattered cacophony you couldn't decipher. The "slaughter wolves," who sought to take the land you managed, had been kept at bay by bribe or sword wielded in temporary acts to push them back, to change their minds about the worth of the land. Words had been spoken by the manor lords about the rocky soil being no better than the soils of where they came. Their crops would not find purchase here either. You knew this to be true in your heart since your land had been barren, and that barrenness had crept into all places of your marriage, including your womb. Nothing but the yellow gorse you had planted around the periphery had grown.

Suddenly from behind the crowd, you heard the sound of your closest companion, "What are we to do?" Elinor had been able to come back to the manor from where she had been in the village; she was now frantic as well as she pushed Æthaldan and the others out of her way to get to you. You surveyed the tenants, as you embraced your friend; none had weapons worthy of the name. One held a reaping iron, another something procured from the hearth, likely nothing in comparison to the weapons of the intruders. You needed time to think, but there was none. You looked down at the weapon you had lifted from the stranger while he slept. You had nearly forgotten you were holding it, clasped tightly in your hand. You tried to hide it in your skirt pockets, but it was clear no one had noticed what you were holding in their panic, not even Elinor.

"Please keep them safe until I return!" you finally shouted at your friend, knowing the best she could do was bolt the door once everyone was inside. Your instructions were curt, "Call to the others, have them come to the house," your voice trailed off as you ran through the corridor of the manor, looking for the stranger. You wondered where he had gone; he was still injured but not knowing his nature of intent you imagined all possible things as you searched for him in the curtained darkness of your halls. Your thoughts ceased when you came upon his nearly collapsed form; he was barely able to stand. Without thinking further, you handed him back his knife, taking his hand and placing it to it, folding his fingers around the hilt. "Help us now, I saved you, now you save us," you demanded. "This is your weapon, use it,” you reiterated when you noticed he was not stirred to action. His blue eyes were crestfallen, “Lady, I cannot,” were his words before he handed the blade back to you.

#loki #tom hiddleston #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fandom #loki fanfic #mcu #loki fluff #loki smut #loki x reader #norse aesthetic #norse mythology #norse pantheon #norse gods #norse paganism

[cephalonserotonin]

Devstream 180 Notes

This is a long one, folks.

brought to you by creative lead Rebb Executive Producer Dick Wolf

New dojo contest to kick off a transition to cross-save dojo world… see forum post

Pride Campaign 2024

is active now until the end of June! a new glyph, display, and wings in lovely rainbows!

Jade Shadows update coming June 18!

features a new cinematic quest: Jade Shadows. It picks up after The New War (so it's got TNW as a prerequisite) where the storyline of the Stalker left off. Rebb and the crew request that folks not spoil the quest for others after playing it. Use spoiler tags if possible! Quest runtime ~ 25 min There's a teaser for the story quest, featuring the Stalker hanging upside down like a bat:

New Warframe: Jade!

Pablo describes her as a support frame. Her passive is two aura mod slots which is kind of crazy ngl

Her kit briefly summarized:

1: throws a little mote with an AOE effect of healing for allies and increasing damage taken to enemies

2: cycle through various squad buffs. The UI art for these is really gorgeous

3: a debuff: enemies in her sight are slowed and lose armor. You also revive any dead allies in your vision.

4: floating and a zappy exalted weapon. It's kind of like Hildryn's four but basically better in every way because you can actually set off large amounts of damage and fly higher and faster. The exalted weapon has synergy with her 1 and 2.

As Pablo mentioned, Jade's abilities provide a lot of combo potential, good for any "min maxers" in the audience.

Jade's three signature weapons: the Cantare throwing knives, the Harmony scythe, and the Evensong bow (a variant on the Dread).

The Ascension game mode: "what if Warframe but up?"

Non-endless There's a giant elevator you have to feed with energy. The team's video crashed so Rebb gave what I'd call an excited 12 year old's description of the game mode instead which I loved:

There's this giant elevator that needs energy to go up. So you have to keep feeding it ionic charges so you rise out of the depths. And as you're feeding, the Corpus are there! *excitable machine gun noises* And then you're like, oh god! And then you have to, like, jump around-- but if you fall out of the elevator, you better hope you're good at parkour, and that you can read the level to get back up! and back up! and back up! And then: you have to make it to the top. But that's not all. Once you get to the top of the elevator, you gotta escape. You gotta make a run for it before the Corpus hold you back! Aahhh! Aah! Ah! …and that's Ascension. :)

Once we finally watch the video preview of the game mode later I think it looks fun. The level looks really neat; I love the graphics of the inside of the elevator. There's a new Jade Light eximus enemy here but I can't really tell any details about it quite yet.

ORDIS IN LARUNDA RELAY!

He's hosting the clan operation Belly of the Beast (featuring above Ascension game mode). In his shop is the Asteria ephemera, which evolves with community participation. Also some arcanes… and a beautiful skin for the Hate.

"If you're a hater, this is for you." Hilariously the arcanes are capped at 42 each because apparently in Gargoyle's Cry certain players went crazy burning themselves out to stock up on arcanes, and the team is trying to prevent that (and players blaming them for their own bad choices, as always). Two full sets each is more than enough, frankly.

Status Rework!

Blast now does a secondary detonation, or if hitting 10 blast procs, creates an AOE explosion. This is exactly what I have been wanting for ages so I, personally, am thrilled.

Magnetic now scales with overguard and shields the same way, and also does a secondary punch of damage (and an electric proc!) once the shield is broken.

Cold should freeze enemies more often now… and came with a free Frost rework! Now Frost's abilities give proper cold procs, thus freezing enemies, which is now standardized across his abilities. His 1 has been buffed and his 3 snowglobe has been modified (to allow shooting from in to out but not out to in). He has a new passive: his armor scales with the number of cold procs enemies have (like the defensive version of Ember).

There's a lot of testing going on right now on the interaction between ragdolling and freezing enemies.

There's a change to damage vulnerability mechanics which I didn't quite follow; seems to be mostly a simplification of the system.

Armor damage attenuation scaling, as mentioned in the last devstream, now has a cap, meaning corrosive procs should be more effective.

Yareli Deluxe

...looks like eldritch coral?

Next round of TennoGen

…finally comes with a Lavos skin, which is plague doctor themed.

Some augments (Protea's is probably OP), decrees (list shown below is incomplete), and arcanes

UI improvements!

In the upgrade screen: duplicate mod config button, indicator for substats, increased mod polarity

Augment list viewer in the abilities screen

Community customization table where you can copy others' fashions. Great news for gamers too unoriginal to make their own fashions, I guess. Coming at first for just Excalibur, Mag, Volt, and Jade.

Quick Access (fast travel wheel) for more areas like the dormizone.

UI autoscaling with resolution (to prevent tiny UI bars for people with huge resolutions), also coming with ability to scale the UI back down.

"Donut numbers" for damage view that do not cover the enemy you are shooting (old way can still be switched back to, called "cloud.")

Awakening quest has a lil fashion preview now!

Loadout hot swaps conveniently directly from the starchart!

QOL!

Cap on adversaries (liches and sisters) at 150. For the sake of database health. The programmer in me is mildly concerned that there was no limit before this.

Semi auto becoming full auto (see last devstream for more detailed description).

Automatic selection of last relic during endless relic cracks.

Streamlining necramech acquisition.

Unifying melee finishers and mercy kills (both with mechanics and appearance).

The return of Heirloom skins: starting with community art this time

First major change (from last year's disastrous heirloom launch) is the heirloom collections will now be released one warframe at a time.

Ember Heirloom is also a purchased fanartist concept!

Two paths to acquire it: a temporary paid path (for money, comes with some plat) and a plat path that will be available until next heirloom launch (and you can purchase the cosmetics individually!)

This is much better than last year's Heirloom launch, which, as aforementioned, caused a lot of community strife.

molten booty

And finally, the TennoCon 2024 schedule:

#warframe #devstream 180 #sera's devstream notes #Jade Shadows #tennocon 2024 #Jade #Youtube

[blaiddfailcam]

Ranni and Miquella's crossed fates

I've briefly mentioned before my thoughts on Ranni and Miquella's intertwined fates and their potential cooperation, but I swear I keep finding more and more subtle hints and decided I should probably start jotting them down, if only for my own amusement.

Some of these are observations, others are my own theories based on said observations. Take them with a sizeable grain of salt.

Torrent and the spiritcalling bell

The Shadow of the Erdtree promo art appears to imply that Miquella was Torrent's former master. Ranni was entrusted the spiritcalling bell by this enigma.

Torrent was entrusted to Melina, who by deduction is potentially Miquella and Malenia's amnesiac sister. It wasn't just chance that brought the two together, but could have been part of Miquella's plan all along.

The spiritcalling bell shares a similar function to those used by Revenant Worshippers to summon forth wraiths. For whatever reason, Revenants appear numerously in areas associated with either Miquella or Ranni, and seldom elsewhere.

His name calls to mind rushing waters, falling in line with the theme of flowing water to counter stagnation and rot. Malenia was tutored by the Blind Swordsman, after all, whose flowing sword sealed the Outer God of Rot long ago.

Torrent's eyes are the same pure gold color as the Miquellan Albinaurics, differentiated by their uniform pigmentation from the golden irises of "grace-given" beings.

Conescrated Snowfield's relevance to Ranni

It is the only location where Rimed Crystal Buds grow, an ingredient used expressly for crafting Frost Pots, a weapon devised specifically by Ranni's servants.

The white bowers are only found elsewhere in the regions of Siofra River, surrounding Nokron. Likewise, two Followers can be found in the Snowfield.

Astel reappears in Yelough Anix Tunnel.

Black Knife Assassins lend aid to Ordina to guard the Haligtree from unwanted guests.

Consecrated Snowfield's situation at the northernmost region of the map, west of the Mountaintops of the Giants, parallels the positions of the Dark Moon and the Full Moon in the northern sky, as seen from the Moonlight Altar.

Carian influences in Elphael

Loretta, a knightess of Caria, elected the land of the Haligtree to be the most promising refuge for the Albinaurics of Liurnia, pledging fealty to Miquella while maintaining a protective spell over her former house. She was not marked a traitor to Caria, suggesting an alliance between the two houses.

The Miquellan Knight's Sword illustrates a clear borrowing of craftsmanship by the Haligtree, modeled after Carian weaponry, yet substituting holy amber for glintstone.

On the contrary, the Black Leather Shield, purchased from Pidia the Albinauric, appears to hint at the location of the Haligtree: "From the north, this shield depicts the polar star in rivets of gold." The Celtic motifs typical of Miquellan weapons and armor faintly trace the edges of the shield.

There's also the mystery of the Amber Starlight Shard. Pidia offers a map leading to a hidden statue of Miquella and Malenia where the shard is found; Seluvis requires the shard to try and gain control over Ranni. The shard itself is said to be the lost fate of a demigod...

Ranni and Miquella's lost Great Runes

Certain details suggest the Great Rune of the Unborn had actually been intended for Miquella, from its function as a device for rebirth, to the amber egg that cradles it, even down to how its shape matches Malenia's Great Rune, albeit smaller and pure gold.

The children reborn of the amber egg all possess eyes of mixed gold and greenish-blue. Strangely, this mixed pigmentation only appears elsewhere in the eyes of Revenant Worshippers, again reinforcing that bizarre connection with at least one of the two Empyreans in question.

Ranni also lacks a Great Rune, yet a somewhat commonheld theory is that the moon bears a marking that can be seen within the Elden Ring, yet isn't connected to any of the other Great Runes. It depicts a vertical line intersected with upward arcs, like a sort of ripple.

This sigil is also seen in the Ripple Blades carried by young Albinaurics, and even in the Haligtree Crest itself. Though the number of "ripples" and their curvatures vary, the general symbol remains consistent.

Blind guesses as to what it all means

A sword memorial in Altus Plateau reads as follows:

"A sovereign alliance rots from within.

"Traces yet remain of bloody conspiracy."

At first, I thought this might have been referring to Mohg and Miquella, and that Mohg had sworn an alliance with the Haligtree in conspiracy to abduct the sleeping Empyrean. However, it's not entirely unlikely that it could refer to Ranni and Miquella's alliance, and perhaps their potential conspiracy that would culminate in the death of Godwyn and the shattering of the Elden Ring.

While Miquella had clearly worked to either ensure Godwyn would die a true death, or that he could restore his soul through the rite at Castle Sol, but either failed or was thwarted, just like when Mohg abducted him from the Haligtree. For all we know, maybe Ranni even deceived Miquella with a pact.

As for their missing Great Runes, and the Haligtree's plantation in a region more befitting a Lunar Princess, I almost get the sense that, having clarified her intent to rid herself of her Empyrean destiny, Ranni offered Miquella passage to the north, and possibly even the Great Rune she had inherited. This effectively allowed them to trade fates, but it remains to be seen what Miquella/Trina's plans truly were, if the DLC might offer any hints.

Or, perhaps their fates had been entangled from the beginning, starting with Radagon's sly subjugation of the Carian lineage, and his vow of silence enforced upon the Carian Preceptors to hide what the stars might portend. Either way, it seems clear that Ranni and Miquella harbored a mutual distaste for the stagnation of the Golden Order.

...I'm fully prepared for this theory to split apart at the seams when Shadow of the Erdtree drops (hopefully soonish??????). Still, it's fun to mull over in the meantime.

#elden ring #my ramblings #ranni #miquella #shadow of the erdtree #I've been trying to write this more eloquently for weeks but fuck it

[fantasygerard2000]

One thing that bothers me with the Starboy fangirls, apart from their obsession with him, is that they accuse Disney for not sticking with the human star idea but they themselves ignore this in the art book.

The creators said in the book and in the Making Of documentary that in the early draft, Star was a shapeshifter, kind of like Genie and Maui.

And yes, i am aware that shapeshifters in fictional media can take on a human default form but, does he need to just be a human though?

Even after they scrapped the Starboy shapeshifter idea, they still work on a default design for Star before sticking with the flowing ball of hope and positive energy. They made several elaborate and bonkers designs for Star that I didn't hear any of y'all complaining about.

Like i wrote in a previous post, there's like a hundred concept art of Star having several non-human and abstract designs and y'all stick with the Jack Frost and Sandman fusion. You're accusing Disney of creative bankrupt yet you only stick with a plain human for Star?

It honestly just feels like the rewrite community is inbreeding with itself when all you write is the same story, just with minor variants. And yes, i am aware that there are works that have Asha and Star be platonic friends and just aren't the author projecting into Asha so they can ship themselves with Star because they're insecure about self shipping.

Star doesn't need to be a human or your work should be about romance. You can make a story about Star as a magic winged horned wolf that Asha must protect form Magnifico like Iron Giant and E.T. Or have Asha go on an adventure flying across different lands on Star.

You don't have to stick to a status quo you made up just because you think you should. Expressing creativity to break out of its limits, not be bound by it.

#disney wish #wish 2023 #wish movie #wish #star wish #starboy #wish star #wish rewrite

[tired0artist]

Loki S2E3 Spoilers ❗️❗️❗️

❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️

You know, I was thinking about that scene in front of the statues of Baldur, Odin and Thor.

Or more so, about Loki’s reaction to it.

Mobius reminds Loki that he’s one of the Norse Gods. An Asgardian God.

And then we get this somber moment, with the beautiful and sad music (which appears also in season 1 and plays when Loki is reminded of his home).

And in my interpretation, in that moment Loki struggles with his identity once again. I think that he looks out at the statues and thinks about the fact that. He’s not Asgardian. He’s a Frost Giant from Jotunnheim.

Of course he often reminds others, that he’s Asgardian, and Asgard is his home. But I don’t think that Loki fully believes this.

But what he does believe. Is that if he says something a hundred times, it will become true and he’ll believe it.

And so he desperately hopes that it’s true, because he wants to believe it.

Of course he cuts off this line of thinking by making a quick jab at Thor. Acting as all is well and normal.

But the thought lingers, that he wasn’t Asgardian enough to be depicted on that pillar beside his father and brother.

Idk just some post episode thoughts 🤷‍♀️ I enjoyed this episode and I’m happy that the show stays entertaining. In the past with some other marvel shows, by episode 3 or 4, I remember that the plot got dull and the pace slowed. But it seems that Loki won’t have that problem, for now. I am really glad that it’s going so well ❤️

#loki #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki season 2 #loki series #loki show #loki spoilers #loki episode 3 #loki of jotunheim #loki of asgard #mcu #frost giant loki #jotunn #jotun loki #frost giants #jotunheim #asgard #mcu asgard #mobius m mobius #mobius #jotnar #god of mischief #loki god of mischief #loki and mobius #Thor #loki odinson #odin

[donationwayne]

Feelin Good (Could be Better) Chapter Six

We're past the halfway point babyeeeee

You can read over on AO3 right here

CHAPTER SUMMARY

Buck and Eddie get ready for the bbq and Buck stress bakes.

Summary

The Buckley parents come to town, turning Buck's already shaky mental status from precarious to worse. Despite avoiding a dreaded dinner at all costs, Buck consents to join Maddie, Chimney, and his parents for dinner. Buck is super fine thanks for asking, he'll just bake about it. And think about kissing Eddie, obviously. Secrets are revealed, leaving the 118 reeling.

snippet

“Do you think you made enough?” Eddie asks dryly.

Buck is too in his head to hear the stark sarcasm in his tone. “Should I have made a better variety of cupcakes?”

“Buck.” Eddie says simply. “I’m pretty sure if we collectively manage to eat all of this tonight, we’ll all be in sugar comas.”

“I’m sorry! I bake when I’m anxious!”

“I’m going to pretend to be mad at you next time Chris has a bake sale coming up.” Buck elbows him, and Eddie laughs.

"You could just ask me!" Buck chastises, "You know I'd be happy to watch you struggle to frost cupcakes."

"But where is the fun in that? Eddie asks with a smirk. “Now, come on, let's get this over with.”

Buck watches Eddie stride up the sidewalk, armed with the cupcake containers and the giant tupperware Eddie had affectionately referred to as the cookie vault. Buck's heart throbs at the sight of him, allowing himself, for just a moment, to imagine more.

Eddie turns. “Are you going to help me with the door or what?”

#911 abc #911 #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fluff #don't be fooled by the snip THIS IS ABOUT TO GET REAL ANGSTY #WE HATE BUCKS PARENTS #the 118 as family

[ask-serendipity-sky]

Hi anon,

I cut the top of your ask because I don't post other blogs.

I have lots to say about this.

•Tae doesn't doesn't get a cake yet. They get a cake after the album is fully released. So it was odd of him to say that.

•We KNOW the company is monitoring what is said online because Jungkook told us (and that's how they keep up with the fandom) so they saw all the cakes for Jimin and the trends.

Could the company have used Tae for their agenda? Yes, it wouldn't be the first time he does what they say.

•People assuming that Jimin didn't want a cake are the same people assuming that he wanted to get mistreated and he isn't being sabotaged.

•If Jimin was on a diet, he didn't have to eat the cake.

Jin also got a cake for The Astronaut and didn't eat a crumb. Yoongi also didn't eat his birthday cake or his D-Day cake.

Also, this is coming from a former baking business owner (me), cakes can be made out of styrofoam and frosted and they look like normal cakes. You don't eat those. Cake is not wasted.

So if the problem was Jimin eating healthy and not wasting cake, they could have gone this route or gotten a cake for staff to share since I'm sure Jin didn't eat his own giant cake in Argentina by himself.

•You can't compare a prerelease or an album release to Jimin's achievement.

Being the first Korean to achieve a no.1 on the Top 100 deserved a dummy cake at least. So he deserved 2 cakes.

A party. Or an interview-like welive like when BTS got their no.1 on the Top 100.

Or even a salad with celebratory cute little chimchims made out of eggs.

It is not about the cake. It is about the company failing to treat Jimin the same as everyone else and acknowledging his accomplishments. But also, it is about the cake.

Anyone anyone ANYONE who is downplaying any of the things that have happened to Jimin or twists things just to keep their ot7 status or kumbaya-BH-is-love mood is not someone who loves and appreciates Jimin.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts.

#skyasks #jimin #jikook

[jay-anxiety]

Loki x Fem!Reader

“Betrayal and Healing”

Warnings: none really, emotional vulnerability, mention of complex familial relationships, he cries

———————————————————————————-

When Loki finds out he is a frost giant, he feels as if his world comes down around him, crushing his mind and soul. There is a roller coaster of emotion running through him, feeling like needles in his blood.

He feels the anger first, grabbing the madness and holding it in his cold, iron fist. He feels betrayed. Lied to by the ones he thought his creators, his father, his mother.

He and his father were never particularly close with one another, but the connection of the parental guidance and care always seemed like enough. This hope for his relationship with his father has now been ripped from his begging grasp, he feels that rope break and it burns his hands.

His mother, on the other hand, was his lifeline. His hope, the first to teach him and love him and see potential in him. That may be why he feels the most betrayed by her. He feels that every affection she ever gave him was false, misguided. Phony. It makes his insides churn as disgust with himself rises in his chest. He feels her love for him and the heartbreak in her eyes as he looks at her with hatred. But he is blinded by that rage. He could never truly hate her, no matter how much he wanted to.

Next, he feels the vengeance bubble up in him like magma, burning him from the inside out. He fantasizes how he can make them feel just as betrayed and hurt as he does. He wants to prove to them that he is not nothing, he wants their souls to bleed because his is gushing. His anger drives this as he thinks of his family with nothing but contempt.

He is flashed back to his childhood, thinking of his father’s obvious favoritism toward his brother. He finally knows why, he thinks. The anger bubbles inside of him when Thor’s image is painted in his mind. His father’s “only worthy son.” He wants to make Thor feel the pain of being ignored, neglected just as he was in his early years.

The next emotion that washes over him is a sadness in its purest form. He feels alone now, like nothing ever truly mattered. He is violently aware that his constant battle for his “father’s” approval was all for naught. He realizes that no one truly knew who he was, not even himself. The thought aches.

Then, he thinks of you. The only person to show him the privilege and joy of selfless love and care. He knew you didn’t care about his status or his reputation, you loved him just as he loved you. Without consequence.

With the thought of you, his mind sinks as he feels heavy waves of shame and fear wash over him. He realizes that this is nowhere near what you signed up for. He thinks now that he is a monster, he is an abomination. That now that you knew, you wouldn’t be disgusted by him. That you will most certainly leave him in all due time. The thought rips him apart limb from limb. The dread tears right through his chest and feeds on his freshly broken heart.

When all of these feeling wash over him, he decides to call you. He doesn’t know what else to do and he’s afraid you won’t come. He waits with bated breath and denied tears as he waits for you. His skin freezes and every nerve in his body feels as if it’s on fire.

He sits on the edge of the bed when he hears rapid, panicked footsteps come to his door. They pause only for a moment as his door is thrown open and his head snaps to see you. Out of breath and knees quaking in worry, you walk up to him as quickly as sore feet can take you.

You run up to him, chest heavy with concern as you pant, just staring at him. He stands up and begins to pace, stressed. His hair is damp with nervous sweat, his body exhausted by raw emotion. His hands are shaking, freezing and terrified of what you’d say. He can’t bring himself to look at you as he tells you what he is.

“I am a monster.” His voice breaks and he fights down tears. He feels disgusting, his own words slice him open. “You should go.” A choked sob comes up and is pushed violently back down as he tries to hide from you. He shrinks into himself as though he’s been burned.

You stand up, prepared to speak with as much conviction as you could muster through your own emotion. “No. I’m not leaving, Loki.” Your heart is torn to pieces at the state of him. It hurts how awful his words are, how the request seemed begging, as if he actually meant it. His gaze on you is hard on the surface, as if he’s angry with you. You know he’s not, he’s never been truly angry with you.

His voice raises, “You MUST!” The pure emotion, the fear in his voice shakes you to your core. He glares at you with all the conviction of a kicked dog. You see the vulnerability behind those piercing eyes and you refuse to comply with the emotionally-driven demands. You see him, you know that loneliness isn’t what he needs.

You storm up to him, taking his face in your hands as your voice raises, determination burning in your gaze. “You will never be a monster, Loki. Not to me. You are still the man I know you to be, knowing of your birth will not change that.”

You see the tears finally begin to fall as the facade breaks. The angry man he showed you vanishing as he sinks back into the crying boy desperate for approval he always has been. He clutched your wrists and leans his head into your hands.

“What if I hurt you? What if I cannot control myself and you get caught in the crosshairs?” His body quakes in fear at the thought. The thought that he ever would hurt you, the thought that it was even possible terrifies him.

“You could never hurt me, I know that. I always have.” Your heart crumbles and you know the only thing in his head talking is his fear.

The that fear has always plagued him, you see it in every conversation, you feel it in every touch. The thought of hurting you scares him more than it does you because he is convinced he may actually do it. You know he can’t. Every time he holds you, he treats you like the finest porcelain, fragile and precious. Even when the two of you argue, he would never even think about raising his voice to its full volume, let alone hurting you.

When he hears your words the dam breaks a little more as his chest wracks with sobs. “How can you be so sure? What if I make a mistake?”

“Then I will hold you in my arms and forgive you. I don’t believe you could ever hurt me out of malice, you are the gentlest man I know. Even if you did, my love for you is like a mountain, unmoved by hardship.” Your thumbs wipe away the continuous flow of tears, suppressing your own.

His shoulders shake as his cries shift from out of fear to relief. You take your hands from his face to moving your arms around him, holding him close, willing your love for him into his body. He feels the warmth and comfort your arms provide him and he cries harder, letting out everything he was bottling up inside himself. He clutches your arms, then your waist as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. As he squeezes his hands into fists on the back of your top, you feel the cold dampness of his tears and rub comfortingly up and down the length of his back. Hushing him and whispering sweet reassurance into his ear.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stay that way. You do know that you would hold him for the rest of time if he said he needed you. His sobs die down to sniffles, sniffles dying down to restoring breaths. When you feel his body relax out of exhaustion, you lead him to the large bed in his chambers and lie down with him. Despite his relaxed muscles, his arms still hold you like you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much you mean to me,” he mumbles into your neck and presses himself further into you. His words nearly make you cry. After everything he’s just been through, the turmoil, the hatred, the betrayal, he still holds you like you are his goddess, his muse, his moon and stars. The vulnerability that he only presents with you makes you feel like you are.

“I love you, Loki, more than anything in this universe,” your voice is hushed and holds enough meaning that you have to bring a hand up to wipe an unshed tear.

He looks up at you when he hears you sniffle and now it’s his turn to hold your cheeks in his hands, long fingers caressing your cheeks and the furrow in your brow. “You are everything to me, I love you.” It’s a deeply meaningful string of words, but he makes them sound so easy, so warm and true. He stares into your eyes a few more moments before holding your body tightly to his once more.

The rest of the world didn’t matter when the two of you were in that bed together. Time kept on, but it was no longer relevant. The two of you would spend eternity in one another’s arms if you could. His grief, his vengeance, his anger could wait, neither of you need it when you knew that the world was here with you. And it didn’t matter where either of you came from, just that you found each other.

———————————————————————————

Sooooo I did it again. Not sure if this one is good, I tried definitely lmao. Lmk if there is anything I should work on, constructive criticism is always appreciated 💕💕💕💕

#loki fic #loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #loki laufeyson #Loki

[evita-shelby]

Twelfth Night

Or during the Riley Clan's celebration of the Day of the Three Wise Kings at their new mansion, Tommy discovers Franz Kafka.

Mentions of accidental violence, and Tommy’s insecurities and also Kafka’s writing

1923

Tommy had been curious about the traditions Eva’s country had about the twelfth night.

He had introduced her to the English ones on her first time celebrating it by making sure she got the pea in the Twelfth so she could have the paper crown John’s children made for even if he got the clove instead of the bean. Tommy had also played a harmless little prank on her the following morning which resulted in her reacting with her fist right on the kisser.

They laughed about it then ---well he did to make her feel less guilty for punching him--- and laugh about it now as they take a holiday to America to see her family.

They’d bought a mansion in the country, the second largest home in all of fucking America to be exact and would be hosting the entire family now that they had a place more than large enough to accommodate them.

Arrow House as an estate was about twice the size in terms of land, and quite large too, but it looked like a modest row house in comparison to the 19th century castle the Rileys had acquired.

It was a status symbol as well as a home just as much as Arrow House was.

But strangely enough, the Rileys treated the cavernous hall as anyone would treat their home while Tommy still felt a stranger in the bed he and his wife had bought.

Children laugh and play with their parents and nannies, servants bustle about preparing for tonight with the members of the family helping out and while everyone treats him well, Tommy feels as if he stepped through the looking glass.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I wanted to check on you before dinner,” she said softly as he hid in the library reading Robert Frost. He’d read Kafka’s short stories and when that made his feeling of otherness worse, Tommy decided to turn to poetry and the whiskey in the crystal decanter.

“If you’d come minutes ago, I would’ve asked you if you’d love me if I turned into a cockroach.” He tries to shove his discomfort away and remembers Eva hardly ever saw her family and they’d be home by next week.

“Kafka is definitely worth learning German for, even if his work is rather dark.” The witch smiled as she joined him on the sofa. She smelled of pastries, even in her fine clothes she was found in the kitchen with the staff.

Hates being idle, a trait that seems to be as common as brown eyes in her family.

If she wasn’t helping about, she was taking care of Charlie and taking him to explore the nearby town or the unending grounds.

“So, would you?” he asks shifting to get comfortable with her, with the army of servants and relatives willing to take one year old Charlie off their hands, it was nice to have her all to himself for a while.

Even with so many roaming about, Tommy and Eva still had quite a lot of privacy.

“I’d find a way to turn you back, and in the meantime, I suppose I’d let you roam Arrow House and eat all the rotten food you want.” Eva answered as if she was powerful enough to undo even something as strange as Kafka’s metamorphosis. “Just imagine the stories of Thomas Shelby, the successful businessman and giant fucking cockroach.”

He laughs at her words and wished they could skip dinner, but formal gatherings came with the life he’s made for himself and Eva’s family was a good place to start.

“Anything I should know before your cockroach husband sits down to dinner with your family?” he asks hoping he is all caught up.

“No matter what I tried to stop it, the tiny Jesus figurine is in your slice of rosca. I’m afraid we’ll be hosting my darling family next year. Or have another baby, depending on who you ask.”

And sure enough, on January 1924 he hosts the Rileys at his home on the condition the tiny Jesus isn't on his slice of cake and convinces his wife to have a second child.

Rockwood Hall was the second largest home in America, remodeled and owned by JD Rockefeller until his death in 1922 and then demolished in the 1940s. It had over 204 rooms and spanned 1k acres. Surprisingly Arley Hall, which is used as Arrow House has 2k acres but the house is smaller.

Kafka’s The Sons ,a collection of short stories that features the Metamorphosis was published in german in 1915. Tommy in this fic can understand German as the translation to English wasn’t made until 1930.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #evacore

[monstersdownthepath]

Lord of Vengeance and Cold: Kostchtchie, the Deathless Frost

CR 26

Chaotic Evil Huge Outsider

Bestiary 4, pg. 48-49

Let's clear up the most important bit first: There's actually two official pronunciations for this repugnant Demon Lord's name, so use whichever one you see fit: KOSH-chuh-chai, or kosh-TIK-ti-kai. I prefer the first, as it's closer to his real-world folkloric inspiration in Koschei the Deathless, with whom he shares far more than just a name. Unlike his real-world inspiration, though, Kostchtchie (which I'll be shortening to Kostch from now on) actually DID eventually run afoul of Baba Yaga, and what happened is likely to surprise no one. Already a powerful and feared warlord, Kostch had conquered every enemy he had ever faced except the looming specter of death, and demanded that Baba Yaga make him immortal. Rather than slaying him outright for his impolite request, refusing him service, or transforming him into an unliving yet unaging material, the Queen of Witches was for some reason moved to grant him his request... but, as these stories go, not in the way he wanted.

She tore apart his soul, twisted his body, and broke his mind. Being turned into a statue would have, perhaps, been more merciful.

Portions of his soul were sealed inside of a torc which, while sustaining him like a lich's reliquary, could also be used to command him. The body he was proud of became infused with the essence of the Abyss to turn him into the demonic brute Baba Yaga saw him as. When these torments concluded, she left him to pick up the shattered remains of his ego. Given that she immediately discarded the Torc for someone else to find, granted him demonic resilience and might, and fermented his hatred for giants into a hatred for humanity and turned him from a warlord into a force of nature, it's difficult to say if Baba Yaga did any of this to punish him, or as part of a plan to punish everyone else for allowing such a man to exist. Perhaps, like many of her more eccentric actions, she did it on a whim, or perhaps she did it as part of a plan for the future. Kostch doesn't care one way or another; all he desires now is vengeance, and achieving this vengeance requires nothing less than the destruction of Baba Yaga and everything she's ever created... along with every single other powerful woman in existence out of pure misogynistic spite.

Fun fact: Kostch is such a raging woman-hater that it actually grants him mechanical benefit. He has Favored Enemy, granting him +4 to a suite of checks and rolls against humans (not Humanoids! specifically humans) and Giants, but this bonus is doubled to +8 against women. It's more than a little funny (in a miserable sort of way) to me that he's so pathetically hate-filled because a woman 'dared to best him,' and I have much more to say on the subject--some of which involves pointing out the size of his arms and the jokes I could make on it--but to go further with the joke would take away from Kostch's legitimately threatening kit. So, let's take a look...

Kostch calling himself "Deathless" is not an empty boast. Unlike pretty much every other Outsider in existence, Kostch did not actually die, nor has he once been slain during his ascension to the rank of Demon Lord. He was transformed into a demonic shape by Baba Yaga, and fled to the Abyss willingly to fill the cracks in his body and mind with its essence, going from human to mutant to demon without his soul fleeing its corporeal vessel even once. He retains his (heavily twisted) human appearance, a perfect memory of his life from before, and all the skills he once had, and all of these worry other demons, because if he could do it, maybe more people could. While he's incredibly young for a Demon Lord at only 2500 years old, others are nonetheless wary of him because he ascended to his Lord rank so quickly, and because of his relatively short tenure, very few are aware of the full extents of his power or what tricks he may yet be hiding from them.

"Frost" isn't an exaggeration of his talents either (please keep all 'best served cold' jokes to yourself). Though he has no means to penetrate Cold Resistance or Immunity, he has no real need due to the quality of his frost spells: At-will Cone of Cold to blast a 60ft area with 15d6 Cold damage whenever he wishes, a 3/day Polar Ray to shoot a single target for 25d6 Cold damage and some paltry Dex drain, and most dangerously Polar Midnight 1/day to engulf an area in freezing, murderous darkness. That last one is why he has no reason or need to pierce Cold resistance; if he did, he couldn't drop that spell into his own space and punish anyone who tried to stand and Full-Attack him while safe from the majority of the spell's effects. Anyone who doesn't move at all on their turn while they're inside Polar Midnight is instantly, unavoidably frozen over, trapped in a layer of ice until someone frees them (as they're rendered helpless). Since Kostch has a permanent Freedom of Movement and can Greater Teleport at will as a spell-like ability, he has no issue freeing himself if he ends up hoist by his own petard in the spell's area... or he can avoid it entirely and just take a move action each round while keeping up his DPS via Greater Vital Strike.

Even creatures immune to Cold can still be trapped by Polar Midnight's freezing effect, or his 1/day Mass Icy Prison, a spell that can potentially paralyze or entangle an entire party at once. Even if one succeeds the save, they're still entangled and taking 26 Cold damage every round until something scrapes the ice from them. Once a victim is frozen over or, hell, even when they're perfectly fine and not really inconvenienced by his magic, Kostch enters the fray to do what he REALLY wants: Hit you over and over again with a really, really big hammer. Sorcery is fine and all, it can be convenient when someone won't hold still, and his endless supply of thrown boulders (2d8+13) are alright for buzzing annoyances at a range, but Kostch began his life as a warlord beating people to death with a hunk of iron on a stick, and by god has he gotten really good at it over the years.

This is no mere hunk of iron, though, this is a +5 Adamantine Icy Burst Warhammer sized for a Huge creature and wielded by a creature with a 15ft space and reach. It weighs well over a ton and appropriately hits like a car upwards to four times a round, every blow dealing 3d6+24 +1d6 Cold damage (+4 vs humans and Giants, +8 vs women)... Or, rather, 3d6+40, since Kostch's lore block states he more or less ALWAYS uses his Power Attack, taking a meager -8 penalty to his stacked attack rolls in favor of more damage, which works well with his warhammer's x3 damage if it critically strikes. If he can't Full-Attack, he can use Greater Vital Strike to throw out a single devastating swing for 12d6+40 +1d6 Cold damage! Given that he can wield that intimidating weapon in just one hand, his other hand is open to weave in a single slam each round for 1d8+19 damage, but we'll get to why that's much better than it looks in just a moment.

It should be said that Kostch has a particularly jarring ability: Vengeful Strike. Once per round, he can AoO any creature that hits him in melee. It's a very simple ability that nonetheless allows him to keep piling on damage even outside of his turn, akin to the Legendary Actions of 5e! Compared to most Demon Lords, Kostch's statblock is rather plain, but some of the abilities he DOES have are doozies with multiple moving parts. The first is Crushing Blow, something he can use once a round with his hammer. It's one of those abilities he must declare before he rolls his attack and is wasted if he misses, but given that he's got a +53 (usually +45 due to Power Attack) to the first attack roll he makes with it a round, he's unlikely to miss anything but the most ridiculously buffed Heavy Armor + Tower Shield Enjoyer. Upon hitting with the Crushing Blow, the attack ignores both hardness and DR AND he gets to make a free trip attempt (+52) versus the victim at no risk to himself and without any restrictions based on size. A victim crushed by the blow also has to make a DC 44 Fortitude save or be stunned for 1 round and staggered for 1d4 more, but even if they succeed they're staggered, which can severely cut down on their ability to fight back or escape him. A major problem, because like most Demon Lords he's only vulnerable to a scant handful of attacks (DR 20/Cold Iron, Epic, and Good, and 30 Regeneration only shut down by deific or Mythic sources), attacks you really want to be able to throw out multiple of every round. There's no per-day limit to his Crushing Blow and no immunity clause built in if you succeed your save, so he can just keep using it round after round to stun and stagger so long as he keeps hitting successfully.

The second and objectively the way funnier important ability in his kit is Clutch Foe, which he can use as part of the Grab attached to his slam attack. When he uses just one hand to grapple a Medium or smaller target, he can choose to lift that creature off their feet and hold them in his grip. This has the side-effect of making his grapple easier to escape, imposing a -20 penalty to his grapple checks... which means it goes from +56 to +36, giving him a decent chance to keep hold of most martial characters and almost certainly lets him clutch casters. Each round as a swift action, Kostch can then choose one of three options: Crush his foe, dealing his slam damage plus an extra 1d8+28 damage; throw his foe in any direction he wants (which is treated as a bull rush, a maneuver he gets +54 to); or the last and most hysterical option: wielding his victim as an improvised weapon. A Medium creature wielded in this manner deals 3d6+19 (weapon sized for a Huge creature + his Str mod) damage to anything it hits, and the victim themselves takes half that damage back, doubling the number of creatures being harmed every time Kostch swings around his new Club of Screaming Pain.

If you think it's unlikely he'll be able to hold onto someone long enough to use them as a bludgeon, remember that he has more than a few ways to render someone helpless via icy entanglement... And also Power Word Stun. Or he can just teleport or Time Stop and walk to the weakest person in the party and grab them like a squeaky toy. I appreciate that he has Catch Off-Guard to make sure he's not penalized for attacking with an improvised wizard, but if I were to improve his kit, I'd give him the Two-Weapon Fighting line to allow him iterative attacks with a grappled foe. I just think it'd be funny.

You can read more about him here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 26 and up #Lords of Sin Month #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks @mysticstarlightduck for the tag!

My words: loyal, haste, frost, glory

Your words: familiar, equal, pierce, door

Tagging with 0 pressure: @aziz-reads @andyswritings @cowboybrunch @blind-the-winds @little-peril-stories @eccaiia @jezifster @mk-writes-stuff @reininginthefirewriting @badluck990 @addicted2coke-theothercoke @i-can-even-burn-salad @sleepywriter00 @finxi-writes @finickyfelix @albatris or anyone else who wants to hop on!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @fairy-tales-of-yesterday y'all want to do this? Go ahead

Keep reading for:

Noelle's research part two (part one was here)

Jack, Jill, and Beau climb a beanstalk

TWO SOTL passages???? Anyways Jack is having a good time

Shapeshifting chitchat

(Dis)loyal - from The Secret Portal Part Two (article Noelle reads)

When I first joined the Aequales, I fully believed in the ideals that were preached. Now, I am unsure of what to do. It is true, the Aequales wants to bring peace to our world. The Aequales wants Inutilia to have the same rights as other Alii. As a fader, I still believe that Inutilia should not be treated the way they have in the past. I believe that Raissa Kamanzi’s methods are flawed. But Atsila McLain is not who we’ve been looking for. I had nothing but respect for the woman when I first joined. But as the years have gone on, I have found her to be insufferable. She’s demanding, harsh, zealoted, and disloyal to those around her. She doesn’t even seem to care much for her family, only obsessed with the end goals in mind. The ends do not always justify the means, and I am starting to believe she is no better than Raissa Kamanzi. It seems that even though Atsila does not appear to be lying about the rights of Inutilia, it is awfully convenient that her best friend is Inutil. Due to her being in high political standing in her neighborhood, having a high socioeconomic status, her connections to both the Sector 8 and 9 governments, and umbrakinesis, it is no wonder she is able to persuade the masses to her side. The Aequales does have many Inutilia members, some of them ex-Refuga, but there are a disproportionate amount of powered individuals, many of them using the Aequales’ guise of morality as an excuse to be bigoted to Aequalis Inutilia. Does Atsila kick out these bigots for not holding her ideals? No. She uses the advantage. She uses their pull to gain more and more followers. More and more people away from Raissa Kamanzi. I admit, it’s a brilliant strategy. But I cannot stand for a person who turns a blind eye to the very thing she’s supposedly fighting against just because the ends will justify the means.

Loyalty is a strong theme in TSP why do I never use it lol

Haste - from School of the Legends Year One

Outside, Jack, Jill, and Beau stood around the giant beanstalk, all armed with helmets, rope, and sickels around their waists, just in case one of them fell and had to dig into the side of the stalk in a haste. They tied the rope around each of their waists--Beau leading the way and Jack taking up the rear. “Alright,” said Beau, digging his foot into the side of the beanstalk and grabbing onto loose tendrils sticking out of it. “Let’s do this.” He began to climb up the side of the beanstalk. After he was high enough, Jill followed him. Jack looked up the beanstalk again. He couldn’t see the top, and today it was very cloudy--it may have been above the clouds. That wasn't a good sign. There was no way they’d reach the top, but surely Jill and Beau knew that. They were just having a bit of fun. And Jack was going to have fun, too. Once it was his turn, he followed his sister up the side of the giant beanstalk. The beanstalk was a lot easier to climb than Jack initially thought. It was about as thick as a tree trunk and had many layers of intertwined, well, stalks. Jack did slip a few times, but so did Beau and Jill. Maybe they were all average climbers. After what seemed like hours, Jack was beginning to get tired. How much longer until they were at the top? Jack strengthened his grip before he dared to tilt his head up. When he saw it was still forever, he felt weakened. Maybe if I looked down I could see how far we’ve come. Nope. That was a rubbish idea. “Beau!” Jack called upward. “Yes?” Beau yelled back. “Is there any way we could possibly speed this up?” “Yeah!” said Jill. “It’s starting to get a little less fun than expected.” “Okay,” said Beau. “Just give me a second.” Jack tilted his head back to look at Beau, who appeared to be concentrating. A tickling sensation on his chest caused Jack to jump. Parts of the beanstalk were wrapping around his torso, tight enough to be firm, and yet loose enough to allow him to breathe. “Hold on!” Beau said. Jack looked back up just in time to see his cousin thrust his hand groundward, and the three of them were shot toward the sky. A scream seemed to escape Jack’s lips, but he didn’t hear any sound. He struggled to keep his eyes open against the speed. He couldn’t find any way to speak, so silently willed Beau to stop, or at least slowdown. After a moment or so, it appeared to have worked. Well, it didn’t--Beau just stopped.

Not the most exciting passage imo but it was my only use of the word

Frost - from School of the Legends Year One

Jack stood with his feet just over shoulder-width apart, his left foot slightly behind his right. He focused his eyes on the wheelbarrow a few yards ahead. He pulled his left arm back and shot it forward. A stream of ice leapt out of his palm, striking the tire of the wheelbarrow. Jack laughed, spinning around. “Didja see that?!” “Sure did,” Jill said, grinning broadly. “You’re getting better at that.” Jack was sure his face was gonna split--that’s how hard he was smiling. He bounced on the balls of his feet to look back at the frozen wheel. Sure, he was aiming for the bed of the wheelbarrow, but honestly, who cared? Certainly not Jack. It had been a few weeks since their adventure up the beanstalk, and ever since the surprise letter, Jack had been trying out these ice powers he’d apparently possessed his whole life--that was something Jack still thought came out of the blue, although in the time that had past, it was starting to become more natural. His aim, still, was not terrible, not great, just average--so Jack was still Jack. “Thanks,” Jack said, responding to his sister. “Aw, this is wicked, ain’t it?” “You bet it is!” Jill said, crossing over to kneel beside the wheelbarrow. “You shot this out of your hand! I couldn’t even do that if I tried!” “Have you tried?” Jill pursed her lips. She stood again and backed up until she was next to Jack. She mimicked his earlier thrust of the palm. “Yeah, I tried.” “It’s still a little weird that I can do it,” Jack admitted. “Why? Because it’s above-average?” “Well, yeah, actually.” “Come on, Jack!” Jill said. “Stop being such a puss and enjoy this!” “Oh, I’m enjoying this alright,” Jack said, smiling again at the wheel. “It just feels… weird? Off-book? Out-of-character?” “Hey, if you want to feel more like your ‘old self,’ that appears to be an average amount of frost on that wheel.” Jack tilted his head slightly. “Yeah, you’re bang on with that.” Jill laughed, giving him a playful push on the shoulder.

Glory Importance (literally the closest synonym and it was only said once) - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

“So, what does Liam have planned for you today?” she asked. “I dunno,” I said, shrugging. “We basically go over what each animal can do, and the importance of each one in a given situation. I assume more of that?” “Is that all y’all do?” I shrugged. “Pretty much. I mean, we focus on some combat.” “What does Liam turn into?” “I dunno, wood, diamonds, bricks. Water, sometimes.” “Which one of you is more powerful?” “I think technically he is,” I said. The doors slid open to an empty dining hall and we stepped in. I went to the replicator, ordered a granola bar, and then turned back into the elevator. “What Level are y’all again?” Kelsey asked as we stepped in. “Training room.” “I’m a Level-2, he’s Level-3,” I said. “So he is?” “I mean, shapeshifting is weird. The Levels aren’t related to each other.” “What are they?” “Uh, people, animals, textures,” I said. “One Level does all living things, and the highest Level can shift into anything. They’re called omnimorphs.” Kelsey let out a whistle. “Imagine being an omnimorph.” She cocked her head. “Could an omnimorph replicate the internal structure of an Alii?” I thought about it for a second. “Like, replicate their powers?” I shrugged. “Maybe. Do you think Hye-Jin is some level of omnimorph?” “I dunno,” Kelsey said as the doors slid open. “She could. It may not even be related.” “Either way,” I said as the two of us stepped into the training room, “omnimorphs are pretty rare. There hasn’t been a recorded one in a century.”

Levels are up to chance I'm figuring it out. Think Maddie is more powerful but unsure.

#the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #tsp excerpt #school of the legends #sotl #sotl excerpt #find the word #writing tag game #wip excerpt #my writing #noelle bishop #raissa kamanzi #atsila mclain #jack mcdonald #jill mcdonald #beau bellerose #maddie morgan #kelsey newman #liam beaumont #writing blog #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

[escapismisaddicting]

SPOILERS FOR LOKI!!!

Can we talk about the blatant parallels between Loki and Thor’s character arcs?

Loki wanted to be king and tried achieving said status through violence. Shown in the Avengers when he invades New York. Thor also wanted to be king and tried proving himself worthy through violence. Shown in Thor when he attacks the Frost Giants.

Both are harshly punished- Loki through the TVA and the Avengers and Thor being stripped of his powers.

However both realise the error of their ways because they found love. Thor with Jane and Loki with Sylvie Mobius. This leads them to realising that sacrificing themselves is the only way. And in doing so both of them prove themselves worthy. Loki of a throne and Thor of his powers.

#marvel #loki season finale #lokius #loki x mobius #loki odinson #loki spoilers #loki season 2 #loki laufeyson #loki series #mcu loki #thor odinson #thor