#shall i tag this with giantess?

[ember-amber]

This will cause widespread brainrot

#and thank god for it #fionna and cake #adventure time #shall i tag this with giantess? #i think i will #giantess #sizetumblr

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Reduced to Jelly (Fic Part 180. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor @thedollmaker16

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/‘Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

"You should get your breath back first, mon mari, then perhaps you can do whatever you want to me."

"I want to reduce you to jelly."

"Well that's not vaguely threatening at all." Kirby chuckles softly.

"Just wanna make you cum over and over."

"Well, that's a nicer way of putting it, now you don't sound like a supervillain."

"You've corrupted the Hurricane a little." He chuckles.

"He will reduce the woman he loves most into jelly with his touch." Kirby jokes, doing her best supervillain voice.

"Exactly."

Kirby smirks, pulling Helms into a heated kiss, "I love you, mon mari."

"I love you too, ma chère."

"Do with me whatever your heart, or loins, desire."

"My loins desire making sweet, tender love to my wife."

"Then do it." Kirby purrs.

"Lie down."

Kirby nods, laying down for Helms, her submissive side in full display as she blushes a deep red.

"That's my beautiful girl."

"What else can I do for you, sir?"

"Spread your legs and close your eyes."

Kirby does as he says, closing her eyes and spreading her legs, aware of how wet she already is. He bends down and licks a long line between her legs, tasting her juices. Her legs tremble slightly as she moans in delight.

"Now this… is heaven."

"You really think so, sir?" Kirby whispers.

"I know so."

"Oh, Monsieur Helms."

"Practically a delicacy."

"Now that's very high praise, Monsieur, are you sure you mean my juices?"

"I know I do."

"Then I shall shush and let you continue enjoying your delicacy, mon amour."

He's intense with his licking and obviously very happy. Kirby moans in ecstasy, her voice wavering as she gets closer to climaxing.

"Cum for me." He whispers.

"Oh mon Dieu, Shane." She moans as she cums, her head dizzy from arousal.

"That's my good girl."

"Mon ange, I love you, God, my head is all fuzzy."

"You need more water."

"Help me up, please, Shaney baby."

"Sure thing, my dear."

Kirby helps Helms lift her to her feet, holding onto him as if her life depends on it.

"You okay?" He whispers.

"Please… please don't leave me, please." Kirby murmurs, clearly struggling to hold back tears.

"Leave you? Honey, I would never leave you?"

"Dw i ddim yn gwybod beth sy'n bod ond aeth popeth yn rhyfedd yn fy meddwl i a dydq i ddim yn gwybod sut i'w esbonio, Shane, beth sy'n bod gyda fi?"

"I don't know either. People in your past broke you. They left you distrustful. It's my job to help you learn to trust."

"Na Shane, mae fel yr unig beth alla i deimlo yw tristwch neu anobaith, ar ôl i ni, wel wyddoch chi… wnaeth o neu yn hytrach ar ôl i mi ddod… disgynnodd fy nghalon yn sydyn, fel roedd rhywbeth wedi fy nhrywanu yn emosiynol."

"Do you have any idea why?" He asks softly.

"No…" Kirby whispers, burying her face in his shoulder and crying quietly."

He strokes her back slowly, "I'm sorry."

"nid eich bai chi ydyw."

"Is this about me or Shannon?" He whispers.

Kirby shakes her head, not knowing what has made her react like this.

"Let's get you calmed down, okay?"

She nods, still clinging to Helms for safety, he's the only thing keeping her calm enough to even think or speak, albeit in Welsh.

"I love you, sweetheart. I always will."

"Rwy'n dy garu di, fy ngwr."

"I'm never going to stop."

She nods, relaxing ever so slightly and taking a deep breath.

"That's my girl."

Gradually Kirby moves herself to sit on the couch, still holding onto Helms' right arm and tracing her fingers over his Green Lantern tattoo.

"I should look into getting another one…" He murmurs.

"Dylech aros tan ar ôl geni Lilith, yna gallwn gael ein bandiau priodas wedi'u tatŵio arnom."

"Couldn't we do that now?"

Kirby thinks for a moment before nodding and snuggling against his arm.

"Well, not now, but when we see Dee next."

She nods again, kissing his cheek softly.

"You gonna be okay?"

"Dydw i ddim yn gwybod eto."

"That's okay. We can sit here until you are."

"Allwch chi ddweud wrth Shannon mae'n ddrwg gen i, os gwelwch yn dda, Shane?"

"Do you want me to go now, or do you want me to bring him down so you can say so yourself?"

"Ti'n dweud wrtho, dydw i ddim yn meddwl ei fod yn ddoeth i mi ddweud dim byd pan na allaf siarad yr un iaith ag ef."

"I can translate if that needs to happen."

Kirby nods, letting him go. He gives her a quick kiss before heading upstairs to get Shannon, who, thankfully, has only had a couple sips of his drink.

"Please don't say you're throwing me out…" he mumbles.

"Better. She wants to apologize, but she had a bit of a breakdown and is only speaking Welsh. I'll be translating as best I can."

Kirby starts rehearsing how to approach apologising to Shannon, trying not to make the situation worse. Helms leads him downstairs slowly, trying his best not to startle Kirby.

"Helo, Shannon, dydw i ddim yn siŵr beth i'w ddweud, neu os bydd fy ngeiriau yn gwneud unrhyw synnwyr i chi, ond ar hyn o bryd nid wyf yn gallu siarad Saesneg ne Ffrangeg, felly yn anffodus rhaid gwrando ar sain fy acen Gymreig naturiol." Kirby jokes weakly.

"She's sorry English and French both escape her right now, so you'll have to listen to her natural Welsh." Helms explains.

"Yn gyntaf rhaid i mi ddweud, mae'n ddrwg gen i, fe wnes i or-ymateb ac roedd hynny'n anghywir i mi ei wneud. Clywais y gair soulmate a daeth yn… oramddiffynnol iawn… o fy statws fel priodferch Shane, a mam ei ferch yn y groth. Nid wyf yn rheoli fy emosiynau yn llwyr, ond ni ddylwn fod wedi ymateb fel y gwnes i. Ni allaf ymddiheuro digon am fy ngweithredoedd a'r hyn y gallent fod wedi achosi i chi feddwl."

"She's sorry she reacted the way she did. Hearing you call me your soulmate made her get protective of me and her status. She isn't in complete control of her emotions, but apologizes nonetheless."

"Gobeithio eich bod chi'n deall cymaint dwi'n ceisio cuddio'r ochr oramddiffynol ohonof fy hun, dwi'n ei chael hi'r un mor hyll a dwi'n siwr mae pawb arall yn ei wneud."

"She's trying to hide her overprotective side." Helms explains, purposely leaving out the self-deprecation.

"He's leaving stuff out, isn't he?" Shannon asks gently, earning a slow nod from Kirby.

"Only the parts that shouldn't be said in the first place." He murmurs.

"I… I can't stay mad at you guys, I admit, I may have gone too far calling Shane my soulmate, but I… I still haven't gotten over the loss, and maybe from now on, I should stay out of his pants, and… I, I forgive you, Kirby." Shannon murmurs, slowly walking up to Kirby and giving her a gentle hug, the faint smell of alcohol, making Kirby gag almost immediately.

"Might need to go brush your teeth, Shan. She's really scent-sensitive these days." Helms murmurs, tapping his shoulder.

"Oh, right, sorry, forgot the whole pregnant women and alcohol don't mix thing." He says before slinking off to freshen himself up.

"Everything squared up? No one mad at each other anymore?" Helms doublechecks, giving her a light hug.

Kirby nods, leaning against Helms and sighing softly, trying but failing to translate herself mentally.

"Good. I'm glad."

She makes a couple small noises of happiness, but no words come out, or at the least, none that Helms can recognize.

"Welsh gone now too, hmm?"

Kirby nods, burying her face in her hands.

"That's okay. It's all okay, my love."

Kirby makes a noise akin to 'meep' in response.

"Hand squeezes, okay? Once for yes, twice for no."

She squeezes his hand softly, just once, and puts her forehead against his shoulder.

"That's my good girl."

Kirby blushes a deep red, making a small squeak before covering her mouth with her free hand.

"Sorry, I'll keep from the horny pet names."

Kirby squeezes his hand twice, wanting him to continue talking the way he usually does.

"If you say so, princess." He grins.

Kirby smiles softly, taking her hand away from her face and gently stroking his beard.

"Didn't go more grey today, did I?"

Kirby squeezes his hand twice as she continues stroking his beard.

"Something different about it?"

She again squeezes his hand twice but continues to stroke his beard.

Shannon walks back into the room, midway through brushing his teeth, "she probably likes the feel." He mumbles as he watches Kirby intently stoking Helms' beard.

"It's getting a little longer. Guess it's softer than usual, hmm?"

Kirby squeezes his hand once, finally stopping herself from stroking his beard and blushing with embarrassment.

"That's cute, she gets all red and stops herself from being adorable because I walk in, you can be adorable, Kirby, no one's gonna stop ya." Shannon teases jokingly.

"It's true. We both find you adorable all the time."

Kirby pulls away from Helms, curling up and hiding her face in her hands.

He takes her hands gently, "please don't hide." He whispers.

Kirby slowly looks at Helms, blushing as red as she can go and shivering from the sudden remembrance of just how little clothing she has on.

"You wanna get dressed?"

Kirby nods, "oui s'il vous plaît, très froid." She whispers.

"Alright, let's get you bundled."

Kirby's about to stand when Helms lifts her in a bridal carry, "mon amour, je peux marcher."

"I know. But you can't speak all your languages right now, so I'm not taking any chances."

Kirby sighs, letting Helms carry her and making herself comfortable in his arms. He's not struggling to hold her like he used to. He's gotten significantly and buffer in their months together. Kirby gently strokes his hair, whispering sweet nothings to him in French.

"Pyjamas or fully dressed?" He murmurs.

"Pyjamas." She whispers, sounding more like André when she speaks French compared to her usual accent.

"Alright, let's sit you on the bed and get you dressed."

Kirby pulls Helms into a gentle kiss the moment she gets a chance to, closing her eyes and holding him close before letting him go.

"I love you so damn much."

Kirby slowly gets her breath back, "I… love you, mon ange."

"English is back." He smiles proudly.

Kirby blushes as she pulls Helms into a gentle hug.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah, still a bit weird from losing both English and French for a moment."

"Take your time. You'll be okay."

"I don't want to let you go, I know how dumb that sounds, but I just wanna hold you a bit longer."

"It's not dumb. You're allowed to love and need me, you know."

"I know but I don't want to seem… needy, or clingy."

"I want you to be needy and clingy. It's how I know I'm still wanted."

"Oh, well then," Kirby pulls Helms into a heated kiss, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I love you so damn much."

"I love you too, mon mari, my hero."

"Really your hero?"

"Definitely my hero, mon ouragan d'amour."

"I love having that title."

"Which one, my hero or mon ouragan d'amour?"

"Both, really."

"What about, my heroic Hurricane of love?" Kirby teases.

"I like it in any language." He grins.

Kirby gently pulls Helms into another heated kiss, getting slightly rough and biting his bottom lip softly.

"Trying to make me bleed?" He chuckles softly.

"A little blood in your mouth never stopped you before, mon amour." Kirby whispers.

"That's true."

"I should probably get dressed, shouldn't I?"

"Maybe. If you wanna be warm."

"I could always be warm with your dick inside me." Kirby whispers to herself as she looks for something to wear.

"That's a good point too."

Kirby goes silent, blushing bright red.

"Wanna try that?"

"Well, I'd never turn down sexual contact with my husband, so… maybe we could?"

#superheroes with secrets #shane hurricane helms #kirby roussimoff #blacklight bandit #orange and green - the perfect team #shannon brian moore #sws #kirby andrea roussimoff #delilah keshet rosenbaum #gregory shane helms #jeffrey nero hardy #matthew moore hardy #lita hardy

[writernotwaiting]

Fallen Angels--ch. 24

Chapter 24 – Before: “Break, Burn, and Make Me New”  Chapter Summary: In which a lot of stuff happens, which to summarize would be very spoilery. This chapter picks up action directly following those in chapter 23. This chapter could be considered a companion piece to chapters 5 and 6 which contain references/flashbacks to the events here. Warning for some completely predictable violence.  Rating: E for the story overall. If you are under 18, go read something else! Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Thor, Anna (ofc), Balder (might-as-well-be-omc), Amora (a might-as-well-be ofc), Odin, Elli (a stone giantess and might-as-well-be-ofc), Cyril (omc), Tyr Story Description: a post-apocalyptic, MCU-Norse mythos mash-up; science fiction/fantasy

I will re-blog with the tags.  I would be glad to add to or remove from the tag list at your request.

Bless you, again to @icybluepenguin, without whom this chapter would be a skeleton of its current self.

Ch. 1: Walking with unblest feet

 Ch. 23: Seven for a Secret Ch. 25: ?

 Threads began to unravel.

The book of the Norns was no longer in the main archives, but now housed in a restricted section. No access for Outlanders.

Loki found his time increasingly scripted by duties at court, and was unable to follow Amora to her estate for anything more than short trips.

Loki and Balder were overheard in a shouting match, and rumors began to circulate that Loki had threatened his brother.

Sigyn’s patients asked her to stop coming, afraid of the shadow that followed her.

Loki was sent on a restricted assignment to Utgard while Amora and Balder planned another holiday to her estate.

Sigyn paced.

Paced their suite of rooms.

Paced the public gardens.

Paced the halls.

Paced the kitchen gardens.

Paced the walls of the city.

Everyone learned to give her a wide berth.

Three weeks after Loki departed, Thor arrived at her door, shoulders thrown back in challenge, demanding Loki’s whereabouts.

Sigyn’s hackles rose at Thor’s aggressiveness and she squared off, straightening her own shoulders as she answered, “Playing fetch for your father—you know exactly where he is.”

“He should have returned by now. The terms of his commission were clearly delineated. Where has he gone?”

“I am his wife, not his jailer, Thor. How would I know?”

“If he has gone to cause trouble for Balder . . .”

“Why would he bother trailing after that parasite?”

Thor took a step into Sigyn’s space, fingers itching near Mjolnir. “I have heard of his threats.”

She stood her ground and hissed back, “What threats?”

“Loki has made it very clear that Balder is not safe.”

“Where did you hear this?” Sigyn’s mouth curled up in derision.

“My lieutenant informed me just yesterday. He said his wife—“

“His wife?!? And where did his wife hear of it? From her waiting woman? Who no doubt heard it from her sister, who sits in the hallways listening at doorways trying to glean whose daughter-in-law has cheated on such-and-such’s husband!” Sigyn stepped forward until their faces were inches apart.

“Do not mock my officers, Sigyn. They are honest and true-hearted.”

“They are gullible fools.”

Thor lowered his voice to a menacing growl. “Mark me, Sigyn, I will travel to Balder’s estate myself. And if I find your husband lurking about with mischief in his heart, it will not go well for him.”

“Oh! He’s my husband now? Not your brother? I knew your blood would tell eventually—Odin’s Golden Son! Where is the warrior who stood by my husband’s side as shieldbrother?” She stepped back then, and her eyes raked up and down Thor’s frame. “Your measure comes something short of the boy you used to be.”

Thor growled at her through clenched teeth and slammed the door as he stormed out, only to hear a great crash as something smashed into the door behind him.

Inside, Sigyn shook with frustrated rage and anxiety, her throat so tight it closed off her breath. Amora is setting a trap! Fly home, you stupid, stupid magpie. Stop chasing shiny things, and come home!

Come home he did.

In chains.

Dragged down to the prison by his brother as a dead weight, bruised and singed.

Not only was Sigyn not allowed to see him, the Allfather placed her under house arrest, not even permitted to leave her rooms.

No one could, or would, give her a clear accounting as to what had happened, just vague outlines. Amora’s estate empty. A portal to another world. A battle in a great temple. One rumor insisted Loki shot Balder with an arrow. Another that Frigga was run through as she threw herself in front of her youngest son. Someone else insisted that Loki had lured both Balder and Frigga to their deaths beneath a collapsing roof, or that they were cut to ribbons by shattered glass. Amora, by one account, was gravely injured trying valiantly to save her husband, while another described her as magically restrained and forced to watch her husband’s death.

Loki somehow responsible for all.

A trial to be held within days.

A mockery of a trial. Sigyn sat stiff in a chair gazing blindly out her window. How convenient they have a monster to blame.

 *****

Odin presided from his great throne, Thor on his right.

Einherjahr escorted a heavily bound Loki to the front of the courtroom, walls echoing with the dull thud of boots, the clanking of chains, and the murmuration of lookers on. Odin stood watching in silence for long minutes before he spoke.

“Loki, I find myself at a loss for words when I contemplate your deeds. I fail to understand the source of your bottomless resentment. I do not know from whence the roots of this bitterness grew.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed with spite, voice dripping with venom. “Do you truly not understand, Allfather?”

“Silence! I did not give you leave to speak.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked up, but his eyes remained glacier hard.

“You stand accused of monstrous crimes, and the punishment shall match their enormity.”

“My guilt, then, has been pre-determined? I will be permitted no defense? Custom dictates that I at least offer some testimony.”

Amora screamed from across the courtroom with a maniacal ferocity — “Do not let him speak, Allfather! Do not permit his Jotun lies to profane your halls with slander.”

Loki wheeled around to face her, narrowed his eyes, readying his arsenal against her. Just as he drew breath to speak, however, the great echo of Gungir’s staff rang out against the marble steps. “Silence!” Light blinded the onlookers, and when the waves of sound finally died, Loki was on his back, tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, and Odin motioned to the guards to restrain him. “If you will not be silent on command, you will be silent on compulsion.”

Odin then called to an executioner who had been waiting in the shadows of the dais, a great bear of a man, larger even than Thor. In his meaty fist he held no axe. Instead he wielded a great needle threaded with thick, dark sinew.

It took four Einherjar to hold him still, but when he was at last hauled to his feet, Loki’s mouth was sealed shut — sutured with hideous black stitches, blood dripping down his chin and staining his shirt. Loki’s eyes fixed on Odin, while Thor kept his eyes anchored in the middle distance, jaw clenched tight to keep down the bile in his throat.

By then, Odin once again sat stiff upon his throne, ready to deliver his final sentence. “Loki, you have utterly rejected the beneficence offered you, preferring exile over a carefully chosen marriage, preferring the company of strangers over the glittering opulence of the home offered you by the parents who rescued you from certain death and raised you as their own child. You stole the time stone from the Norns, hiding it somewhere on that abandoned realm called Midgard. You refuse to reveal its location so it may be returned. You slaughtered my son, Balder, when he tried to retrieve it. Frigga . . .” Odin fairly roared out this last, “Frigga brutally cut down in the melee that followed.”

He paused here to regain his breath before finishing. “You are sentenced to silence, Silvertongue, silence and solitude until I see fit to release you, or until the end of days.”

The crowd murmured its approval, but for Amora it was not enough. She kept her eyes locked hungrily on the blood oozing from Loki’s wounds, and she goaded Odin further, “And what of his wife?”

Odin’s gaze slowly swung to her face, surprisingly cold. “She will remain where she is, under house arrest. Alone.”

Amora shrieked in panic, tearing her eyes from Loki to Odin, “That’s not enough! She is party to his crimes, and an untrained seider-wielder. She is dangerous!”

The Allfather held her stare in silence as though he had happened upon a new and particularly grotesque insect. After an uncomfortably long pause, he once more slammed the butt of his spear to the floor, “Sigyn will remain as she is.” He clenched his teeth, jaw working as he fought for control then turned to face the rest of the courtroom. “None shall harm her, but neither shall any aid come to her. This is my final word.”

Odin turned and strode out of the hall, even as Amora gathered herself for another attack. He didn’t wait to watch as his adopted son was forced from the room to his cell, didn’t turn to speak to his remaining son who stood half dazed next to him, didn’t pause to listen to the singing of the blood in his own ears.

*****

The staff fought over who would deliver the news to Sigyn. When no one else would go, a scullery maid in rags was tasked with delivering the news to Sigyn. Because the poor girl trembled so, Sigyn allowed her to retreat before she began to break things.

Hours later, the howling started. It was not just unnaturally loud; it was thunderous. It shook the walls. Thor heard the heartache from across the palace in his own rooms and could not sleep.

In the morning, Eir went to Odin, pleading, “Let me go to her. She will harm herself.”

His cold eye never blinked, but didn’t seem to see anything, either. “She is a healer. Let her heal herself,” his voice numb and flat.

Thor bowed his head, shaken by the trial and the ache at the heart of Sigyn’s screams. “Perhaps Sigyn did not know what Loki did. His wife should not be punished for the crimes of her husband.”

Odin’s head snapped around to face him. “Pitch mars all it touches. He is no longer my son. She was never your sister-in-law.” If there was an odd hitch to Odin’s pronouncement, Thor did not catch it.

Suddenly the howling stopped. Odin stood and retired alone to his study.

The palace itself seemed to breathe a deep sigh of relief, but in the depths of the prison, Loki felt a pressure building, felt the air press against his ears. He clenched his fists tight, knowing deep in his chest the reservoir of power that had been building over the last century, barely held in check by Sigyn’s dogged will to do for others. He wondered how that rage would manifest itself once released, and a fatalistic, maniacal, triumphant hysteria bubbled up within him, as he paced the perimeter of his cell with the neurotic intensity of a tiger locked in a too-small cage.

The following morning, the keening began.

As it started softly, it raised gooseflesh on the arms of the guards stationed outside Sigyn’s rooms, the air charged with potential energy. The sound might have been a mourning cry, but more fierce. It might have been the wailing of gulls, but more constant. It was a little bit like the cold winter wind whistling through bare cupboards or ill-caulked windows, but more powerful—the wailing cry of a banshee in the wasteland.

As it gathered strength, babes on the other side of the palace began to cry. Servants cowered in the depths of the kitchens. It beat on Loki’s heart even in his basement prison—he could feel its vibration through the stone of the foundations themselves and he sank to his hands and knees to absorb it.

As it built further, the guards stopped their ears, grown men began to sob, stopping in their tracks, paralyzed by grief.

Loki sat on the floor of his cell, his hands flat on the stone before him, absorbing the humming vibrations. Tears coursed down his cheeks, even as a smile split his face and pulled painfully at the stitches in his mouth.

They would not be not forgotten.

No one would ever forget.

But he also knew with same certainty with which he knew his bones could break that Sigyn was about to make a terrible sacrifice for their vindication. For their vengeance.

Because make no mistake, the truth would out, and Amora would pay.

As the keening neared its peak, light began to glow from beneath Sigyn’s door and stream out of her windows—white hot in its intensity.  Odin himself rounded the corner, face rigid with a mixture of fury and fear as the sound finally reached the top of its crescendo, a great flash blew the doors from their hinges, the force great enough to knock even the Allfather against the wall.

When he finally picked his way through the debris, he and his guards stood dumbfounded at the threshold — both at what they saw, and at what they did not. Wisps of white ash swirled across the floor. All else was burned clean — the furniture, hangings, books, everything. Red heat still radiated from the stone floor, but nothing was left.

And Sigyn was gone.

Not 30 minutes after Odin returned to his desk, servants gasping for breath ran to report, “All of the enforcers have collapsed.”

“Collapsed?” He demanded. “Explain.”

“They turned rigid, and fell over when touched. Some just broke to pieces like unfired clay.”

The Allfather sent to Amora for an explanation, but the mystery only deepened. “She is gone,” came the message. “Everything inside her rooms is like a great swirling storm had rushed through her apartments. All her things—books, clothes, toiletries, vases, everything—scattered in great heaps, fires smolder in the sitting room. Her handmaid seemingly turned to lifeless clay. Lady Amora is gone.”

Odin called on Heimdall, whose far-seeing eyes searched through the nine realms, there was no time to send out search parties. Even as Odin stood by his side, The Watcher reported a great flash on Midgard, centered on the temple where Balder and Frigga had been killed. The temple crammed with panicked mortals. A statue fashioned precisely like Loki, stood rigid in the sanctuary. Amora frantically destroying relics and setting fires throughout. Sigyn apparently trying to move the mortals from out of the temple basement.  Amora running down the stairs. An explosion.

Suddenly a tremendous flash, followed by a shockwave as great as an asteroid crashing into the earth’s crust. And then nothing. Silence.

Sigyn was gone.

Odin sank to his knees, Gungir falling with a crash to the observatory floor, Thor dumbfounded by his side.

Loki needed no messenger to tell him the news. As soon as the flagstones ceased their humming, he knew.

He knew, and his heart screamed.

His very soul howled with such force it shattered Odin’s spell. His mouth tore open, bleeding his anguish, because he knew. They had their revenge. The stone had been found. A trail would prove Amora’s guilt.

But Sigyn was gone.

#Fallen Angels #Loki #Sigyn #logyn #fan fiction #MCU #norse mythology #mash up #AU #post-apocalyptic

[cargopantsman]

Signy: Vengeance and Filicide

I started this one by copying (almost) all of Signy’s lines/notable moments in the saga. And then realized that in the relatively vast expanse of the narrative in chapters 2 through 8 (Finch translation btw) Signy gets very little “screen time.” And as such, I actually found it rather powerful to see her part put together in one fell swoop. So bear with me on this, I’m leaving everything below as I compiled it.

Also trying a read-more tag... I know mobile tends to not like those...

A Snapshot of Signy “Their eldest was called Sigmund, and their daughter Signy. They were twins and in every way the best looking and the most remarkable of King Völsung’s children, though, indeed, all of them were outstanding, a fact long recognised, just as the Völsungs have long been famed for their autocratic inflexibility of purpose, and for being far ahead of most people, as old stories tell, in knowledge, attainments and in enterprise generally.”

“[King Völsung] was favorably disposed to the idea [of Signy marrying King Siggeir], as were his sons, but she herself was against it, though she asked her father to decide about this as he did about other matters concerning her. And the king thought it advisable for her to be married, and she was betrothed to King Siggeir.”

“Signy now spoke to her father: ‘I don’t want to go away with Siggeir, nor do I feel at all warmly towards him, and my gift of second sight which runs in the family tells me that this business will result in a great deal of misery for us, unless this marriage is speedily annulled.”

“That same evening, Signy, King Völsung’s daughter, came to ask her father and her brothers to have a private talk with her. She then said that in her opinion- it was also King Siggeir’s own! - Siggeir had got together a large force that was invincible- ‘And he means to break faith with you. So I beg you,’ she said, ‘to get back to your own country immediately. Get hold of as large a number of men as you can, then return and get your revenge, rather than walk into this trap, for you’ll find no lack of treachery in him if you don’t adopt the plan I desire you to.”

“Then Signy wept bitterly and begged not to have to go back to Siggeir.” … “So Signy went back…”

“Signy discovered that her father had been killed and her brothers captured and sentenced to death.”

She-wolf episode here.

“And we are told that when the elder son was ten years old, Signy sent him off to find Sigmund so that he could help him, should he wish to make any attempt to avenge his father.”

“The next time Sigmund and his sister met, he said he seemed no nearer to getting a man, even though the boy was staying with him. ‘Then seize and kill him,’ said Signy. ‘There’s no need for him to live any longer.’ And that’s what he did.”

Repeat 1x.

“He killed the boy at Signy’s bidding.”

Body swapping and twincest.

“Before sending her first two sons to Sigmund, she had submitted them to the following test: she sewed their tunics on to their arms, stitching through skin and flesh. They stood up to it badly, and screamed as it was being done. She did the same to Sinfjötli. He did not flinch. Then she stripped the tunic from him, so that skin came off with the sleeves, and she said that this would hurt him.’

Robin Hood and Little John running through the forests....

“Then he [another young son of Siggeir and Signy] ran back into the hall to his father and told him what he had seen [Sigmund and Sinfjötli in hiding]. .. Now Signy heard what they said. She stood up, took both children and went into the outer room to [Sigmund and Sinfjötli] and said that they ought to know that the children had given them away- ‘And I think you had better kill them.’” [Sigmund, this time, hesitates. Sinfjötli does not. At all.]

“And while [the serfs] were busy covering over the mound [which held Sigmund and Sinfjötli] with turf, Signy came up with an armful of straw [containing a chunk of pork and also the sword from Stabby McOne-Eye the Murder Hobo]. She threw it into the mound to Sinfjötli, and told the serfs to conceal this from the king.”

“[Sigmund] told his sister to come out and receive from him every consideration, and high esteem, meaning in this way to make up for what she had suffered [for roughly 27 years at this point].

‘You’ll know now whether or not I have remembered King Siggeir’s killing of King Völsung against him!’ she answered, ‘and I had our children killed when they seemed to me all too tardy in avenging our father, and in the shape of some sorceress I came to you in the forest, and Sinfjötli is your son, and mine. His immense vigor comes from being King Völsung’s grandson on his father’s as well as his mother’s side. Everything I have done has been to bring about King Siggeir’s death. And I have done so much to achieve vengeance that to go on living is out of the question. I shall now gladly die with King Siggeir, reluctant though I was to marry him.’

Then she kissed her brother Sigmund, and Sinfjötli, and walking into the inferno she bade them farewell, and thereupon she perished there with King Siggeir and all his men.”

Vengeance and Filicide Revenge is, I’m guessing, going to be an ongoing theme here, so what constitutes revenge in the old Viking, or possibly slightly pre-Viking, society? If one person kills another the family of the victim is entitled to compensation, which can come in three varieties:

Weregild: An economic payment of either currency, valuables, livestock or land commensurate with the societally agreed upon value of the victim. Blood vengeance: The murderer is executed. Outlaw: The murderer is banished from society and whatever happens, happens.

This is pretty clear cut as long as the death is not part of a battle in war or that it is not an instance of kin-slaying.

Kin-slaying in most societies is a big no-no. Family members "are caught between irreconcilable duties: to extract vengeance on the one hand and to honor the bonds of kinship on the other hand." [Lindow, John (1997) Murder and Vengeance among the Gods. Baldr in Scandinavian Mythology.] Even Óðinn had to take a moment when Baldr died to figure out how vengeance was going to be had. In a parallel of this, Óðinn goes off and knocks up the giantess Rindr, rushes the birth, and after being alive for one day (apparently enough time to learn how to crawl, walk, brandish a longsword), Váli slays Höðr. Because, supposedly, if Óðinn himself took vengeance on Höðr, Óðinn would then have to take vengeance on himself for kin-slaying. [Margaret E. McKenzie (2012) Filicide in Medieval Narrative: A Dissertation]

Interesting point here is that, even amongst the gods, a vengeance killing apparently does not wipe the slate clean. While, by law, a society cannot punish one for exacting a warranted revenge, it doesn’t seem that no one is restricted from taking revenge on the avenger as well.

So Óðinn gets out of having to directly avenge Baldr by having a half-brother take the blood. In this case we can surmise that uncles and half-brothers are distant enough to commit a kin-slaying without bearing the complications thereof. (I have absolutely no source for this thought and it could be wildly erroneous.)

The slaying of children, particularly by, or at the behest of, a parent wasn’t as big a taboo as outright kin-slaying. Leaving infants or small children out for exposure was not unheard of in these times, though it was frowned upon. [MacKenzie 2012] But a parent killing their own, young, child seems to somehow skirt the complications of invoking a need for revenge upon the murderer. Two of these filicides happened to boys that were near the age of majority (at least by Icelandic standards at the turn of the millennium, which was about twelve years old). The next two to be slain were probably significantly younger yet given the descriptions of them at play in the hall. So perhaps being children and not yet adults in some way puts them outside the law in regards to reprisal just as they are too young to participate in legal matters on their own.

A Profile of Signy Given the few direct references we have to work with regarding Signy, it is difficult to figure out who she would be as a person and not a plot device. When reading the saga in its complete text, she is thrown in the background so often that it is easy to dismiss her as cold-hearted, as the stereotypical “disposable” princess that is there only as a political pawn.

But considering what a daughter of Völsung, the greatest warrior and king in the history of Hunaland, would be like within the confines of the family, it wouldn’t be hard to surmise that she had a happy enough, comfortable enough upbringing. “The Völsungs have long been famed for their autocratic inflexibility of purpose, and for being far ahead of most people, as old stories tell, in knowledge, attainments and in enterprise generally.” She would have had a sense of duty of course, but also education and, with a valkyrie for a mother, no small amount of initiative of her own. That she defers her will to her father’s on matters says less about Signy as it says more about King Völsung, who from a young age was successful in war and kingdom building. Despite my earlier jibes at the man regarding how he handled the voyage to Gautland, we are supposed to take from this saga that King Völsung is a powerful, forceful figure that commands respect and oozes leadership, even among his own children no matter how “remarkable” and “outstanding” they may be.

Arranged marriages, as repulsive as we may find them nowadays, were how international politics worked then. Signy would have known this and while she may not like the prospect, her respect for her father, her sense of duty to the family, to her position, and her own pride would not let her back down from the proposal.

Of course this changes shortly after the marriage itself, whether it was purely based on kynfylgja alone or a few other factors grouped in with that for brevity, as Signy very much does not want anything to do with this. While the saga thus far has been lacking in emotional flare in the telling of the characters thus far, it does say something that against a tremendous respect for her father, despite her proud duty to her family, she asks to be released from this arrangement. Someone like Signy, daughter of an Óðinn blessed king and a valkyrie, would not do this just because she doesn’t want to be with Siggeir. Even when her family arrives in Gautland and is about to be betrayed and slaughtered, when Völsung confirms he will not back down from this fight as he never had before, she asks again to be released from the marriage.

“Then Signy wept bitterly and begged not to have to go back to Siggeir.” Völsung responds, dutifully as ever, “Of course you must go back to your husband, and stay with him, whatever happens to us.”

If ever Signy is to be described as cold-hearted, it should only be considered in this moment, where we see the most emotionally filled line in the saga to this point in six words, that Signy’s heart has broken. We know the Völsungs are defeated and she is doomed to be with Siggeir for the rest of her life, but on the other side we should consider that if Völsung had defeated Siggeir and killed him, if Signy would have had to prepare herself to follow him to Valhalla. If that custom were valid for the era and place of this episode, then Signy is facing the end of her life, either literally or metaphorically.

As Hamlet learns from his father’s ghost that his death was due to “something rotten in Denmark,” we can easily see Signy slipping into a similar despair, depression, and trauma induced madness. For whatever reason she must sit idly as over the course of nine nights she loses nine brothers. Imagine how long those days must have been, how sleepless the nights?

With only the consolation that she has her twin brother escaped and hidden in the forests does she have one small hope in the world for her true family. So she spends days as Siggeir’s wife in Siggeir’s hall surrounded by Siggeir’s men and bearing Siggeir’s children all while hating him, his country, his kingdom for leaving her alone in the world. Vengeance becomes the only road to hope. That Siggeir dies and Sigmund can be free to rebuild their legacy.

Her sons are Siggeir’s sons, but they are half Völsung. So perhaps they can be instrumental to avenging King Völsung. Women were not supposed to take up revenge themselves according to the old laws, but they could readily incite it. [Andersson, Theodore M. and William Ian Miller. (1989) Law and Literature in Medieval Iceland] Even if she were to entertain the idea of slaying him herself, she would then be in a position of being kin-slayer. Though she may disregard her own life even at this early point, it could damage the family reputation.

She subjects her first two sons to a sadistic test of having their tunics sewn to their flesh. This appears to be an intentional sadism, perhaps as a post traumatic symptom, transferring her hatred of Siggeir to these children. It is extraneous since there’s no reason to believe these boys would not have been raised to be warriors in accordance with Germanic tradition. Furthermore, despite that “they stood up to it badly, and screamed as it was being done,” she still sends them, in turn, to Sigmund anyway. This is a cruelty, clearly done with a sociopathic, methodic coldness which could suggest that these children lived their entire lives with a stony mother that from day one made every conscious effort to quell any maternal warmth she may have had for her children lest she lose focus on her goal, her vengeance.

That she also so casually permits the murder of her children by Sigmund should also put us in mind of her resolve to attain this revenge. Beyond the initial shock value of a mother saying ‘Then seize and kill him. There’s no need for him to live any longer,’ it stresses that, for Signy at this point, there is only one reason, need, to be alive and that is to see Siggeir’s death. This point may have held more weight in the time the saga was written. While we modern reader’s tend to focus on the children as actual living humans succumbing to a murderous mother, ‘some scholars have argued that children in medieval narrative exist merely to aid in the plot; in that way, they lack agency and are considered more as objects than as people’ [MacKenzie 2012] and a contemporary listener to the saga may have likely just been impressed at Signy’s single-mindedness in avenging her legendary father.

The drive to this end becomes more apparent when Sigmund and Sinfjötli have entered Siggeir’s hall and are hiding in a side room, waiting to strike. Another son of Siggeir and Signy discover them when a toy has rolled away from him. It isn’t until after Siggeir has been warned of intruders that Signy gathers up both of her young sons and brings them to Sigmund to be dealt with. Being so close to the end, with “the wolves in with the chickens” so to speak, Signy sees these children as obstacles. They are not needed for Signy’s purpose, Sinfjötli is clearly capable of being the avenging son/grandson. At this point Signy may know her life will not extend much beyond Siggeir’s and has no notions of ever being able to be a good mother for these children. Having the blood of two sons already on her hands, what’s two more?

A side note here on Sinfjötli; Signy has yet to reveal his incestuous origin, so effectively we witness him committing full-brother kin-slaying.

Finally, after escaping capture in which Signy has returned Sigmund’s sword to him, Sinfjötli and Sigmund return to Siggeir’s hall and, apparently able to just saunter up and set a ton of wood down, light it on fire.

Signy gives a final monologue, her only goal in life having been accomplished. ‘And I have done so much to achieve vengeance that to go on living is out of the question. I shall now gladly die with King Siggeir, reluctant though I was to marry him.’ Which shouldn’t be too surprising. With everything she had endured and done in the course of 27 years, over half her life; in losing her family, being trapped by duty with the betrayer of her family, in being a cold mother, and a cruel one, dismissive of her children’s very lives, you can’t blame her for being done with vengeance and with life.

#norsereadalong #volsunga saga #signy #tragic #norse mythology #projectnorsemyth #week 3 #this went on a lot longer than i thought it would #im sorry #so wordy

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Joyeux Noël (Fic Part 171. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor @thedollmaker16

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/‘Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

"Imperfect and alive is better than perfect and dead, in other words?"

"Yes, I would rather have my weird green husband with me when we are old and grey, than watch you stress yourself into an early grave, I love you so much, Shane."

"I love you too, Kirby. I promise I do even if I never show just how much."

"You get stressed, I get scared, neither is good for Lilith, not if we want her to be healthy and strong when she's born."

"I thought I was able to hide the stress pretty well…" He chuckles weakly.

"There are grey patches in your beard, your hair is naturally brown… I can tell where the patches are… I don't like the patches… they make me feel like I'm close to losing you before we have our first baby." Kirby murmurs, placing her hands on his waist and resting her head on his, kissing the top of his head.

"You're not gonna lose me. My dad missed out on seeing his oldest grow up, I'm not doing the same." He whispers.

"Then can we please just relax, the entirety of two-thousand-and-two, just take it day by day, like how I did after dad died, I recovered by taking it day by day and focusing on the positive."

"Day by day. One day at a time. It's gonna be a good year."

"Day by day, mon mari…" Kirby pulls away to yawn, "… smooth, steady pace, relaxed and not too hectic…" she yawns again, blinking in an attempt to stay awake.

"You need more sleep too." He chuckles softly.

"Sleep for the baby Mama, Crimbus tomorrow." Kirby murmurs.

He lays her down on the pillows inside the fort, rubbing her stomach gently to soothe her to sleep. Once he's pretty sure she's asleep, he tries his best to sing the Welsh lullaby he's been learning, "Huna blentyn ar fy mynwes, Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon; Breichiau mam sy’n dynn amdanat, Cariad mam sy dan fy mron; Ni chaiff dim amharu’th gyntun, Ni wna undyn â thi gam; Huna’n dawel, annwyl blentyn, Huna’n fwyn ar fron dy fam. Huna’n dawel, heno, huna, Huna’n fwyn, y tlws ei lun; Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu, Gwenu’n dirion yn dy hun? Ai angylion fry sy’n gwenu, Arnat ti yn gwenu’n llon, Tithau’n gwenu’n ôl dan huno, Huno’n dawel ar fy mron? Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen Gura, gura ar y ddôr; Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig, Sua, sua ar lan y môr; Huna blentyn, nid oes yma, Ddim i roddi iti fraw; Gwena’n dawel yn fy mynwes. Ar yr engyl gwynion draw."

Kirby snuggles into his side, kissing his cheek softly and lazily as she sleeps. The following morning the two are alone in the house, Kirby wrapped up in Shane's arms as he wakes up.

"Merry Christmas, fy nghalon a'm enaid." He whispers.

"Nadolig llawen i ti hefyd." She murmurs as she slowly wakes up.

"Our first as a family."

"We missed Yuletide, but Christmas is good, also, why did you sing a maternal lullaby to Lilith, you are her dad."

Helms blushes a little, "There aren't a lot of paternal lullabies out there to begin with. And I liked the sound of that one. Didn't understand all the words, but I liked how it sounded."

"The first verse of Suo-Gân translates to 'Sleep, my child, upon my bosom, It is snug and warm; Your mother's arms wrapped tightly around you, 'Tis a mother's love lies in my breast, Nothing shall disturb your slumber, Nobody will do you harm; Sleep in peace, dear child, Gently sleep on your mother's breast." Kirby explains softly.

"Well… I love her like you do, so there might be a mother's love in my breast, I dunno." He tries not to giggle.

"Yeah, doubt they're full of milk… unlike mine." Kirby chuckles softly.

"Love ain't stored in the milk, babe." He winks.

"No, but a lot of nutrients she needs to grow big and healthy are, also unless you're planning on stripping down and making out before I make breakfast, you are way too dressed compared to how you usually sleep."

He grins sheepishly, ruffling the back of his hair, "Forgot to get undressed again after I.."

"After what? The snowball fight?"

"No, I snuck out of the fort last night to… well, you'll see."

"You managed not to wake me? That's gotta be a first."

"I sneak out of bed more often than you think." He shrugs.

"But, I am a light sleeper, usually at least… no, I am okay, it is okay, we relax." Kirby murmurs to herself.

"Doesn't matter right now. You'll like why I snuck." He smiles.

"Okay, I trust you… mainly because you are my one true love."

"Just come see."

Kirby follows Helms out of the blanket fort. Outside the fort, the tree they decorated is lit up and the presents they had for each other are now part of a significantly larger stack of gifts labelled 'From Santa' to everyone in the house, but primarily to Kirby.

"O fy duw." Kirby murmurs, tearing up at the sight.

"They're nothing fancy, but I wanted you to have a proper Christmas morning, so I made some calls to a buddy of mine." He grins.

Kirby pulls Helms into a heated kiss, "I love you so much, I really, really… really love you, mon mari."

"I love you too, Kirby. I'm never going to stop loving you."

"God, I haven't had a Christmas like this since… Seventy-eight, Seventy-nine-ish."

"You'll be having plenty from now on."

"Where do we begin, do we make breakfast first or do we dive straight into unwrapping the presents?"

"Breakfast. Cause otherwise I'll want you to unwrap a very specific one and you'll get misty-eyed."

"Pancakes, my love?"

"You know me so well."

"Pancakes and chocolate milk." Kirby whispers to herself as she walks to the kitchen.

"You absolute saint."

"A saint wouldn't have let you fuck their brains out before marriage."

"Not every saint is a virgin until marriage."

"Name one."

"Saint Sebastian."

"Any others?"

"Well, I don't know every saint ever."

"What is Saint Sebastian the saint of? Getting pegged by a witch?" Kirby chuckles softly to herself.

"Athletes, among other things. He was tied to a post and shot by arrows but survived and was healed."

"Ah, so I shouldn't make jokes about him."

"He's dead, what will he care?" Helms chuckles.

"True, but it's still wrong to joke about a saint, isn't it?"

"Supposedly. But I'm not religious enough to care."

"Mon mari, I…" Kirby takes a deep breath, "Shane, I love you, but I need you to do something for me," she takes his hands, guiding them to her stomach right as Lilith kicks, this time it's much gentler than before, "you know why I do that, right?"

"So I can feel her?"

"So you know that she's not going anywhere, and you don't have to worry about her as much as you do."

He exhales softly, rubbing his palm over her belly, "just want her to be happy and healthy when she comes out here." He murmurs after a few moments.

"She'll be a lot happier and healthier if her Mama and Daddy weren't freaking out every day."

"Guess I should probably quit making myself go gray, hmm?"

"Yes, for your health and mind, as well as mine. We should stop worrying ourselves to the bone."

He nods, taking a few deep breaths, "I'll work on it. Promise I will."

"I'm not saying it's going to be an easy road, after all you fell in love with a giant who was raised by practically every wrestler in the Eighties. But I promise I will never leave your side."

"Thank you. I try not to let my insecurities get to my head, but we're just surrounded by all these guys who are bigger, stronger, tougher, prettier, more manly and more mature than me. It's like you looked at a buffet and picked a little green salad. Eventually, everyone gets sick of salad. So I try to make the salad better every day."

"I chose the one thing that I liked, like chocolate mousse, you are small and good for my heart, so I chose you because I knew I loved you when I saw you. I could never be with someone else, ever. Also, no one's prettier than you, mon mari, you are the most handsome man in the world in my mind."

He smiles softly as he kisses her, "Thank you."

"If you ever see yourself as less than my perfect man, you are wrong. You are my little chocolate mousse and I will always love you." She whispers as she kisses his jawline.

"I'll always love you too."

"All I need is my husband and my baby. That's all I need right now."

"You also need pancakes."

"Pancakes are good, I'll finish breakfast up and then you can enjoy something that you usually love." Kirby whispers as she starts making breakfast, taking about ten minutes to make them both a plate of pancakes.

"My love, you are to me what a pancake is to my tummy." He smiles.

"Tasty and sweet?"

"Perfection in every way."

"So if you are my chocolate mousse and I am like pancakes to you… Lilith is like chocolate pancakes."

"Oh my god you're right."

"She is half me, half you, therefore she is a chocolate pancakes… sweet but sometimes too much."

"Occasionally too much for you, but never too much for me yet."

"Wait until your hair grows longer, she will probably grab at it when she's a toddler, and aww, that would be adorable, Shane, think about it, our little girl as a tot, she'll be so small and adorable."

"That level of cute will be the thing that makes me knock you up again." He chuckles.

"Small adorable, beautiful baby Lilith… no tattoos or piercings until she is at least sixteen and no boyfriends because not only will Daddy be worried but Mama might kill them if they're not good to her baby."

"Mama might and Daddy will."

"You would kill people to protect the baby?"

"Without hesitation. And they'd never find the bodies either."

"Pond full of bodies?"

"Pond is the first place they'd look."

"Then where, actually I don't want to know."

"Good call. Then the cops can't get you."

"Shane, shush, it's starting to sound like you have killed someone in cold blood before."

"Honey, only things I've killed are my brother and Evan's career." He smiles softly.

"I know Honey, Evan went from 'dating' Alundra Blayze to no one knowing where the fuck he is."

"Sugar Shane was simply too sweet of an eye candy."

"And now Sugar Shane is all mine, he belongs with the Giantess and that is where he stays for eternity and beyond."

"Damn right he does."

"Only he is allowed to get the daughter of the most famous giant in wrestling pregnant."

"Glad to hear it. I mean, as long as I'm there or know what's going on, I'm fine with other people fucking you, but I'm the only one who gets to have a baby with you."

"I would prefer if we were the only people allowed to see each other naked all day, mon ange, you may bring up the possibility of others in our bed, but I belong to you and your giant slayer dick."

"At the end of the day, I'm yours and you're mine."

"Yes, and your fine ass is responsible for me having babies."

"I'll make sure your never lacking them."

"I should call my family, wish them a merry Christmas."

"Lot of calls to make. Better get on it."

"Who do I call first?"

"That's a question I'm not close enough to them to answer yet."

"I'll go lay on our broken bed and call my family, you make sure I don't miss if anyone comes around."

#superheroes with secrets #shane hurricane helms #kirby roussimoff #blacklight bandit #orange and green - the perfect team #shannon brian moore #sws #kirby andrea roussimoff #delilah keshet rosenbaum #gregory shane helms #jeffrey nero hardy #matthew moore hardy #lita hardy

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Mistletoe and Meaning (Fic Part 168. Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places. Please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @tantamount-treason @piratewithvigor

Reference Posts: ‘Giantess’/'Blacklight Bandit’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ’Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

"Works for me."

"So, my love, what do you want Lilith's middle name to be?"

"I'll have to take a little bit, come up with some good names."

"I don't want to pressure you, but if possible can you think of comic book names, so she's equally gothic and geeky?"

"I'll do my best… there's only one name I keep circling back to…"

"Yeah, care to tell me?"

"Harleen." He murmurs.

"We can call her Harleen if you want." She whispers.

"I just… I'll take some time to come up with options…"

"I keep coming back to Raven… like from teen titans, the coolest goth in the whole of DC, but my actual favourite teen titan is Cyborg."

"We can make her middle name Cyborg." He chuckles.

"Shane, I'm not naming a girl Cyborg, if it were a boy, maybe, but then they'll only ever do the opposite of you and go by their first name." Kirby shakes her head before chuckling softly.

"Don't most people?"

"Yeah, I don't really mind if people call me Kirby or Andréa… as long as they remember my surname is Helms now and not Roussimoff."

"I'm sure they will."

"From what my mother wrote in her journals the original plan for my name was Kirby Andréa Haf Dàirine Trevor." Kirby murmurs.

"That's beautiful."

"Haf actually means Summer in Welsh, so I would be a winter child with summer as a middle name."

"A cute little irony."

"Yeah, we should probably go eat before our food gets cold."

"That's a good idea."

"Can I… can I slowly introduce you to my traditions?"

"As fast or as slow as you wish."

"And uhh, before we go back to the table… can I… kiss you?"

"Never have to ask that, my love." He smiles.

Kirby pulls Helms into a gentle kiss, not pulling away until she needs to breathe.

"I love you more than anything."

"You are too sweet to me, my hero."

"Just sweet enough."

"Sweet little scruffy beastie." Kirby murmurs as she kisses his neck.

"That's me."

Kirby pulls Helms into another, more heated kiss, putting one hand on his ass.

"Wanting a piece of me before the meal?"

"My love, you are a meal." Kirby purrs in his ear.

"More than a snack, hmm?"

"Much more… a whole three courses."

"Eat up, my love."

"I shall have to disappoint you for now, but later I may go for a midnight feast."

"I'll take it."

"I'm all yours later… perhaps we can sleep on the floor in the tv room, or maybe on the couch."

"That sounds very nice."

"It would save the hassle of going upstairs and back down and… I forgot to ask this earlier but is anyone staying over tonight?"

"God I hope not. It's our first Christmas together."

"Our first Christmas, me and you, and Lilith." Kirby whispers to herself as she heads back to her seat at the table.

"A year from now, she'll actually be here."

"Then it'll be our actual first Christmas as a family, and hopefully she won't have started swearing by then."

"I promise I'll keep a clean mouth around her."

"Mon ouragan d'amour, I am not worried about your mouth… Jeffrey and Shannon on the other hand, and perhaps the rest of you… you are on thin ice, teach my daughter how to swear, I will make sure you never forget how much of a mistake you made by doing so."

"Understood, my love."

"I may have been raised a gentle giant, but even the gentlest of people can cause major harm, if they choose to."

"And I know you wouldn't hesitate."

"Can't help that I'm a protective person, a little damaged but still protective." Kirby shrugs.

"I'll never give you a reason to have to protect Lilith from me."

"I know, my love, you're just as protective of her as I am."

"Easily as much."

"Kirby, how do you do that" Jeff asks.

"What, oh, eat everything with chopsticks… dude, I lived in Japan for like six years, ya learn."

"Just took practice. Like when you figured out how to use a fork with your feet." Helms shrugs.

"Excuse me, what?!" Kirby squeaks.

"Yeah! Wanna see?" Jeff grins, already bending down to unlace a sneaker.

"Don't you fucking dare, Jeffrey." Kirby and Delilah say in unison.

He stops unlacing and sits back up slowly.

"Sorry, just… that mental image," Kirby fake gags, "no, just no."

"Should have mentioned it sooner, but Kirby and me don't really like feet." Delilah whispers.

"We'll all keep that in mind."

"I don't like feet because I got impaled through the foot at a party when I was ten." Delilah explains.

"Guess who had the strongest stomach and had to help clean up the blood, moi."

"That would do it."

"Yep, that and the incident where Kealani almost lost a foot in a drunken fight." Kirby murmurs.

"Jeez, you people do have a lot of troubles with feet."

"Has Kirby mentioned that one time where she accidentally bound her own feet for a month without realising?"

"Shuddup, Dee."

"How'd you manage that?"

"I got given boots that were slightly too small for me when I got them, but back then I was stubborn and wore them for ages and didn't realise how bad it was to do that until I took them off one day and saw blood in the heels… this was while I was still growing."

"Jesus, that sounds painful."

"I was technically still a dumb kid at the time, but yeah, more painful than all my tattoos combined."

"Glad that you stopped wearing them before they did permanent damage."

"Yeah, I ended up actually getting the measurements done for my whole body after I stopped growing, but it's always been something that freaked me out a bit… because I'm proportionally different from most people."

"It's a good call to get clothes that fit."

"Even if it means feeling very awkward as someone takes your measurements… especially when it comes to your groin and bust." Kirby murmurs.

"At least you don't have balls to manoeuvre around getting a suit tailored."

"Oh, trust me, I used to watch my dad when he got his suits done, and of course André being André, he had a new suit practically every week, so I know the struggle, and damn is it funny to watch."

"Very fancy, was he?"

"You know when we go out and I'm wearing a very dainty gothic dress and your in torn jeans and a t-shirt?"

"I'm familiar with it."

"Replace me with dad and you with a young me, and you have every time we went out in public until like Eighty-Nine."

He chuckles softly, "That sounds adorable. Imagining you as a little goth."

"Baby Kirby, tiny little girl compared to her dad, even when I got to be over six feet tall, still tiny compared to dad… gimme a sec, I think I have a photo with dad and Hogan from years ago," Kirby gets up, leaving for only a few minutes before returning and handing Helms a photo.

"Jeez, to make Hogan look tiny, he had to be enormous."

"Guess what size boot dad would wear." Kirby smirks.

"Twenty-two?"

"Yep, size twenty-two, which makes my size sixteen look tiny in comparison, occasionally dad would ham it up more and wear size twenty-four boots."

"He could squash cities in boots like that."

"Dad defined the phrase gentle giant, wouldn't hurt anyone unless they got on his bad side… like Savage."

"Surprised Savage made it this long."

"Yeah, dad hated him oiling himself up before matches, and would punish him for it in the ring, used to scare me by saying if I ever used spray tan I'd become like Savage and need to be punished."

"Well, who needs spray tan anyway?"

"I don't know, but dad outlawed it in the house, 'ma peau naturellement pâle comme la neige me fait ressortir' according to mon pére."

"Like Snow White."

"I guess, but I'm blonde, so not exactly Disney's Snow White."

"Never said anything about Disney."

"Did you mean the Grimm version, my love?"

"There's thousands of versions. I bet There's some version where she's blonde."

"Maybe… uhm, mon mari, I seem to have forgotten about the Christmas cake, you don't mind that, right?"

"Don't mind at all."

"Is everyone finished, may I take your plates?"

"Yes please. Thank you honey."

Kirby gets up, gathering the plates from the table and busying herself in the kitchen by doing the dishes, humming to herself.

Helms joins her not too long after, "This was delicious sweetheart."

"Merci, mon mari. Je suis content que vous l'ayez apprécié."

"I always appreciate anything you do for us."

Kirby blushes, looking away from Helms for a moment before whispering a small, "Love you."

"I love you too."

"Was it actually that good or are you just saying that to lift my mood?" She asks gently.

"It really was that good."

"Shane, does anyone actually eat Christmas cake, aside from myself?"

"I mean, my family used to have a log every year. That's a cake at Christmas."

"Ooh, a yule log… André used to buy those uhm, Christmas pudding things, the ones you set on fire with alcohol."

"Don't say fire too loud, or the Hardys will be all over it."

"Not gonna lie, it's very tempting to give Jeff a box of matches and see how Matt reacts."

"You like my hair dark or green, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Cause it's gonna be gray or white if you give Jeff matches."

"Then I won't give in to my chaotic ideas, mon mari, just to keep you as sexy as you were the day we met."

"You don't think I'd be hot as a silver fox?"

"Only if it's from aging, stress turning you into a silver fox worries me, even as an idea."

"That's a fair point."

"But right now, you're still as sexy as the day we met and I just want to enjoy every moment with you."

"So do I."

"My sexy husband, mon ouragan d'amour." Kirby teases.

"Wanna join me in bed?"

"Thought we were sleeping down here tonight, you wanna change plans and go upstairs?"

"Well, I meant bed as more of a state of mind. We can't really sleep in a broken bed."

"Oh, so you meant, 'you wanna make love?' Instead of sleeping, shouldn't we wait until the others leave before we start getting steamy?"

"If we wanna be polite, I suppose."

"Well, do you want to be polite or do you want to have an early Christmas present, if you catch my drift." Kirby teases.

"Ooh, now that's tempting."

"The choice is yours, mon mari."

"Let's stop being polite."

"Thought you'd take the option involving sweet loving, mon ange."

"Exactly. Being impolite to our guests by loving sweetly on my love."

"C'mere sexy husband." Kirby purrs, pulling Helms into a heated kiss.

He kisses her back deeply.

"So my love, what are you gonna do to me? Kiss me all over? Make me scream your name?"

"Who says I can't do both?"

"You can do both, I just wanna know the plan, Mama wants to know exactly what Daddy's got in mind for her."

"I'm thinking I make love to you until sunrise, in every position that doesn't hurt your leg."

"That sounds like a marvellous plan, mon ouragan d'amour, a marvellous plan by the mind of a marvellous man." She smirks.

"Some would call me devious. Very much so for a babyface." He grins.

"The crowd loves you too much for you to even be considered slightly Heel-ish, which I guess they've also done to me for my entire career, just said no to the idea of me being a heel."

"I bet I could pull it off someday, if I ever need a change."

"You would need to completely kill the idea of the Hurricane if you wanted to go heel… I know eventually you may have your reasons why you want to go heel, but… I'll keep my opinion to myself… I shouldn't attempt to dissuade you from anything you decide to do."

#superheroes with secrets #shane hurricane helms #kirby roussimoff #blacklight bandit #orange and green - the perfect team #shannon brian moore #sws #kirby andrea roussimoff #delilah keshet rosenbaum #gregory shane helms #jeffrey nero hardy #matthew moore hardy #lita hardy

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Breakdown (Fic part 97) (Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places.

please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts.

Tags: @piratewithvigor

‘Giantess’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ‘Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

Reference Posts: Shane ‘Hurricane’ Helms

Kirby ‘The Blacklight Bandit’ Roussimoff

Notes: The story is set in 2001, which would make Helms 27 and Kirby 31. This story also blends Kayfabe and Reality. Certain people speak in different colours, Mainly: Helms is Green. Kirby is Orange. Kane is Red. Undertaker is Purple. Big Show is Blue.

Other members of the BSK are also in purple.

Other women are in Pink.

DX Members are also in Green.

"Or maybe I'm really funny."

"Maybe, race you to the car." Kirby murmurs, pulling Helms into a gentle kiss.

"You're on, sweetheart."

Kirby smirks as she races Helms, beating him by seconds.

"Long legs." He pouts.

"Can't help it." Kirby defends, putting her hands up in a very 'ain't my fault' way.

"Not your fault you're the biggest and the strongest?" He asks, grinning a little at his own joke.

"I would say, I don't even exercise, but that's a lie." Kirby jokes.

"Ah well, we can't quote the entire movie at each other."

"Why not?" Kirby fake pouts.

"Cause we have jobs to do that don't involve quoting old movies."

"It isn't just an old movie, it's an old movie with my dad in it." Kirby corrects.

"This is true."

"Do you wanna drive, or do you want me to drive?" Kirby questions, kissing his forehead.

"I'll let you have the honours. Your car, after all."

"Our car, but I will drive." Kirby murmurs, getting the keys from her jacket pocket and getting in the driver's seat.

"Good. Cause then I can watch you." He grins.

"You make it sound like you get off to just seeing me." Kirby smirks, glancing over at Helms.

"Who says I don't?"

"Do I get you all hot and bothered, Shaney, you wanna fuck me all damn day?" Kirby questions teasingly, focusing on the road.

"Is that so shocking? That you're the woman of my dreams and I want to fuck you silly every waking minute?"

"Well, if you want me so badly, I wouldn't mind listening to you get yourself off to me."

"You want me to masturbate while you drive?"

"Only if you feel like jacking off."

"You'd be hard-pressed to find a man who wouldn't at the drop of a hat."

"Well then, Hurricane, let me hear your sweet sounds of pleasure." Kirby purrs.

Helms unzips his fly and begins stroking himself slowly. Kirby slows the car down slightly, sneaking the occasional glance at Helms as she drives them to the arena. He's undressing her with his eyes, making quiet, obscene moans as they drive. They get into some traffic and Kirby takes the opportunity to remove her bra from underneath her shirt. His moans get a little louder as his eyes linger on her chest. Kirby chucks her bra at Helms, snaking her hand up his thigh before focusing back on the road.

"This was your idea; the bra to the head felt unnecessary." He laughs.

Kirby smirks as she continues driving, "what, you don't like me messing with you or something?"

"I love you messing with me."

"Well then, mon ange, I will mess with you, and you can't do anything about it." Kirby states proudly.

"Good. Just the way I like it."

Kirby drives into the parking lot, searching for a good parking space.

"We've got two choices now. Either I make a mess of the car, or I walk out there with the biggest boner these guys have ever seen."

"Well it would certainly put the guys on edge if you walked in with a boner, but I shall leave the decision to you." Kirby murmurs as she parks the car.

"Well, I won't get the edge if I finish."

"But we have backstage segments together, as our 'normal' alter egos." Kirby murmurs.

"I can be normal with a boner. Easy peasy. Doing it right now."

"You're going to actually do everything with a boner? The backstage segments, the match, all of it?"

"I'll tuck it into my waistband, no big deal."

"You are insane, but I love it." Kirby purrs, pulling Helms into a gentle kiss before getting out of the car.

"My insanity keeps us both young."

"Young and full of energy." Kirby whispers as she grabs her bag from the back of the car.

"Of course. Gotta keep a little crazy in this day and age."

"I'm gonna get ready for the backstage stuff, maybe go annoy my brother if he's here."

"I'm gonna get dressed, hopefully keep warmed up."

"My little 'Ace Reporter', I love you, mon ange." Kirby whispers, pulling Helms into a heated kiss before walking away, locking the car behind her.

"Love you too, sweetheart."

Kirby hums to herself as she heads to her dressing room, Vince has given her her own space and some food and drinks, treating her like a third child. Helms has an ace reporter promo first, which means he's got a suit to look spiffy in first. Kirby's preparing herself for the promo, getting into character as K.Ro (pronounced 'crow') in an all black outfit, her shirt showing most of her cleavage. Too antsy to keep still in the dressing room, Helms decides to go on a bit of a walk through the halls to get our some of the energy. Kirby's doing vocal warm ups, singing to herself as she gets ready, anyone walking past her dressing room can hear her muffled singing through the door. Helms hears her and knocks on her dressing room door.

Kirby stops singing and cautiously opens the door, "Hey Shane, whassup?"

"Sorry, miss. Gregory Helms, Ace Reporter. I'm doing a story about potential religious imagery. There's been rumours that there was an angel singing on this room." He grins.

"Oh, I thought they would have soundproofed my dressing room, I don't believe we've met, K.Ro, lead singer and guitarist for the band 'Black Rose'." Kirby smirks, stifling a laugh.

"Wonderful to meet you, miss." He shakes her hand excitedly. "If your band is half as good as you, you must all be excellent."

"Well, it's just me and my cousins, Rosey and Jamal. So, you're a reporter, don't think I've met many reporters who wear suits as nice as yours."

"Like to look my best on the job, Miss, I'm sure you understand."

"Depends on the gig, some days I'm barely wearing anything."

"Is that so?" He asks, trying not to blush.

"Yep, sometimes I just have on a bikini and some shorts." Kirby purrs, trying to rile him up.

He pulls out his notebook and starts writing quickly. "Go on, please?"

"Well, occasionally I wear some skull shaped pasties over my chest, and see-through shirts... would you like to come in?"

"I would, yes, very much."

Kirby steps back, allowing Helms into the dressing room, "what's your poison, Mr Helms?"

"Just milk, miss, if you have it. My wife's having a baby, you see, and I promised her we were in on the pregnancy restrictions together."

"You're married, Mr Helms, who's the lucky lady?" Kirby questions teasingly, getting him a bottle of chocolate milk from the mini fridge.

"The most beautiful woman in the world." He sighs happily.

"So, if I were to flirt with you, you'd deny my advances?" Kirby teases, holding out the bottle of milk for him to take.

"You're very beautiful, but I'd have to, Miss. I love my wife very much and she loves me back."

"Okay, I'll make sure not to steal her man, but oh, if you weren't married, I'd rip that suit off in an instant."

"Hate it that much?" He chuckles.

"I just wanna see what's underneath." Kirby purrs.

"Well, miss, not much underneath at all. I find going commando much less restrictive."

Kirby has to bite her lip to stifle her moan at the idea of Helms' nude body.

"Everything alright, Miss?" He asks, sliding off his glasses to chew on the arm lightly, batting his eyes just so.

"I'm fine, just thinking of Edge nude." Kirby teases.

"Mm, had eyes on Edge for a while, have you, Miss?" He asks, his charade not even flinching.

"Him, Jeff Hardy, X-Pac, The Hurricane."

"Ever... met them?"

"Who, the Hurricane? No, can't say I have."

"Ever wanted to?"

"Yes, but I bet he's married too."

"It's certainly possible. He's very private."

"You ever met him?"

"Everyone, Miss. It's my business to know everything about everyone."

"Like moi?" Kirby questions teasingly.

"I'd love to know everything about you too."

"Too bad, you've been in here too long. Out, boy. Now." Kirby states flatly.

"Out? Is something wrong?"

"I'm done with ya, out. Go."

"Well then. Until we meet again, Miss." Helms says, trying to keep cool, but having a little knot in his stomach.

"One thing, before you go." Kirby whispers, pulling Helms into a heated kiss.

He kisses her back hard, heart racing in his chest.

Kirby pushes him against the wall, kissing his jawline and neck, "fuck me." She whispers against his skin.

"Thought you wanted me out?" He purrs teasingly.

"Like I'd kick out my own husband, come here you little devil." Kirby whispers as she kisses him deeply and grinds her hips against his.

"Ha. You broke first." He laughs.

Kirby pulls away, "I'm fucking done." Kirby mutters as she storms out, heading back to the car.

Helms is left blinking in confusion in her dressing room before groaning at himself in frustration. His teasing went too far again. Kirby unlocks the car, not planning on leaving but needing some time alone. As concerned as Helms is about her, he trusts her not to abandon the show so soon before the tournament. She's too much of a professional for that. Kirby sits in the car for a couple minutes before coming back to her dressing room and chucking a cushion at Helms.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry." He says, ducking under the incoming cushion.

"You made me worry about you, therefore you made me break character." Kirby murmurs as she chucks another cushion at Helms.

"How did I make you worry?" He asks, ducking again.

"You go all fucking pale and have his nervous look in those fucking beautiful brown eyes of yours ... and I'm out of cushions to throw at ya."

"I was nervous because I thought I fucked up somehow and made you mad at me for real."

"Well you didn't make me mad until I broke character and you laughed, ya cheeky little fucking beast." Kirby murmurs, looking away from Helms.

"You told me to get out... I got nervous... you got real handsy... I teased a little too much... you through some pillows at me... are we square?"

"Yes." Kirby states flatly.

"That's it. That's the tone that makes me freak out and think I've done something wrong."

"Then maybe, you shouldn't have made me feel like I couldn't touch you. Shane, you made me feel like I'm not allowed to love you." Kirby states accusatorily, raising her voice slightly.

"I was in character, babe. Like you requested me to be. I was trying to help keep you in character."

"There is half an hour to the doors opening, and a full hour before the cameras are on. Fuck this, fuck everything." Kirby states flatly, pushing past Helms and storming off down the corridor.

"Love you too." He calls after her, trying his best to keep his cool and not get frustrated.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" Kirby yells back, going back to the car and driving off, pissed.

Helms goes back to the locker room and exhales slowly. He's tried his best to be patient with Kirby and intends to keep trying when she comes back. He loves her and he won't stop. Those three thoughts are repeated through his mind over and over as he keeps taking deep breaths. He's upset at her words but knows he didn't deserve them. She asked for his help getting into character and that was what he did. Being yelled at and getting things thrown at him was uncalled for for a light teasing.

Kirby drives for at least ten minutes, cursing herself for being so stupid, breaking down after she parks the car by a field, grabbing her satchel from the backseat and searching for her pain pills, her mind stuck between downing the full bottle or throwing it away.

After a couple of minutes, the anxieties at the back of Helms' mind start acting up. Potential things she might be getting up to. Things he could stop her from if he hadn't been such a jackass. It's bad enough that someone points him out to Show with a small murmur of "isn't that the shrimp married to your sister?"

#Kirby Roussimoff #Shane Hurricane Helms #Blacklight Bandit #Orange and green - the perfect team #Superheroes with Secrets

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Kirby Dislikes Pizza (Fic part 37) (Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places.

Tags: @piratewithvigor please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts

‘Giantess’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ‘Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

Reference Posts: Shane ‘Hurricane’ Helms

Kirby ‘The Blacklight Bandit’ Roussimoff

Notes: The story is set in 2001, which would make Helms 27 and Kirby 31. This story also blends Kayfabe and Reality. Certain people speak in different colours, Mainly: Helms is Green. Kirby is Orange. Kane is Red. Undertaker is Purple. Big Show is Blue.

Other members of the BSK are also in purple.

Other women are in Pink.

"I am meant to be someone who protects the people, like She-Hulk, I'm tall, sure, but I'm meant to be a hero."

"You're a serious one. High-fives don't suit who you are. You're more like... Bret Hart. He's all business walking down the aisle, but you know he adores the fans because he gives his glasses to one kid every night. You just need to find the balance."

"And what is the balance, Helms, I try to make sure fans are satisfied with my work, but I don't know how to make them know how much they mean to me."

"That's something I can't tell you. You gotta experiment for yourself."

Kirby kisses Helms' forehead, "I know, I love you. I'll try and experiment with the gimmick."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"Ya very handsome, ya know."

"You're alone in believing that, but thank you anyway."

"Helms, I need to get dressed, and pack."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get out of you now." He groans, backing away.

Kirby gets up and gets dressed, bending over to pick up her underwear from her bottom dresser drawer.

"You're so damn pretty, sweetheart."

"Thank you baby." Kirby murmurs, searching for a skirt in one of her drawers.

Helms eventually crawls out of bed to start packing, happily neglecting to get dressed.

Kirby stares at him from the bathroom, while getting her 'essentials' bag accidentally letting slip a "Damn, that's a fine ass." Before slapping a hand over her mouth.

Helms looks up and raises an eyebrow before winking playfully.

"Don't, I didn't mean to say it aloud." Kirby murmurs.

"All I did was wink, hot stuff."

"Yeah, but... don't, pack and stop flirting." Kirby murmurs, blushing a deep red.

"Who's flirting, miss 'damn that's a fine ass'?"

"I was thinking and the words slipped out of my mouth." Kirby murmurs, blushing but trying to hide her face in her hands.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop torturing you." He chuckles.

"Thank you baby." Kirby whispers as she puts her 'essentials' bag in her larger duffel bag.

He's even enough of a gentleman to get dressed so she doesn't have to drool over him and get distracted. Kirby messes with Helms hair as he packs, kissing the back of his neck before grabbing one of her jewellery boxes to look through.

"Been thinking of growing out my hair a little. What do you think?" He asks, shaking it around his face a little.

"I like it, maybe you should grow it out some more, it's very silky and soft, so growing it out can't ruin it."

"Not too long, I don't want it getting yanked on and make me go bald like Jake The Snake."

"Then tie it up, I'm still debating what to do with my hair, whether I cut it short or let it grow, do I dye it or not. Ya know, general curiosity."

"Who says you can't do all of the above?"

"Shave the sides and back, leave it long on the top and dye it?"

"Do whatever you wanna do. Gonna look gorgeous no matter what."

"Thank you baby, you look very cute today, ya know."

"Do I really?" He asks, blushing lightly.

"Uh huh, very cute, almost princely."

"Sure you're not thinking of yourself, princess?"

"Oh, I am definitely not talking about me, my sweet prince, shall I compare thee to a summer's day, warm and inviting yet too much of your heat could drive a woman to madness."

"We made a lexicon of lightening and splendour of thunder, rendezvoused in the sharp rain of rage and grew gold roses in rebel's plunder, taught truth not to bet on beauty but to bite into the meat of rugged reality, to taste our mettle, you became the priestess of my noetic eyes, and I, the priest of your poetic pain, we were miracle"

"I ... I think I want to have your children, or continue staring into your almost hypnotic eyes." Kirby whispers.

"Who says we can't do both?" He chuckles quietly, kissing over her knuckles.

Kirby blushes, holding Helms' jaw so she can kiss him deeply, moaning slightly into the kiss.

"I love you so damn much, sweetheart."

"I will forever be yours and yours alone"

"As will I."

Kirby pulls away to continue packing, "I don't know if I should pack it or keep it in my satchel, ya know, the camcorder."

"Keep it in your satchel. Wanna be able to film anything we want."

"Good point, I want to be able to show our future kids, hey this is your goofball dad and your goofball uncles before we get married."

"We're on the road to the wedding now."

"Yeah, and much like the road to Wrestlemania, there's still a while before we get there."

"Still a hell of a fun road."

Kirby nods in agreement as she double checks her stuff.

"Remember we're not leaving until the morning. Once your bags are by the door, we're all ready."

"Uh huh, I'm gonna go say bye to the frogs now because I know I'll forget." Kirby murmurs, placing her bags by the door and going to see the frogs.

Helms watches her from the window in the kitchen, finally feeling like he's gotten everything he wants. Kirby lays next to the lake and talks to the frogs, watching the sunset as she talks, all three of the named frogs are sitting on her chest.

Lita walks in and interrupts the moment, "Helms, we're ordering pizza, what do you want?"

"Pepperoni. And if it won't get me made fun of, mushrooms."

"Alright, any ideas what Kirby wants, or where she is?"

"Out back with her frogs. I'll go ask her."

Lita nods and heads to ask the Hardys what they want, meanwhile Kirby is outside, talking to the frogs and petting them on their heads.

Helms approaches quietly to keep from startling them. "Kirby, babe, what do you want on your pizza?"

"I don't care, I don't really like pizza, too greasy." Kirby admits, absent-mindedly, still petting the frogs.

"Gotta have some kind of food, sweetheart. They've got salads too."

"Then get me a salad, I'm still gonna be out here when it arrives."

"Whatever you want, cutie."

"Thank you baby, I would kiss you but I'm covered in frog."

Helms shrugs and bends down to kiss her deeply. Kirby leans up slightly to kiss him, Jason the frog takes the opportunity to jump on Kirby's shoulder and ribbit at Helms.

"Gonna marry your mom, lil guys. I love her so much."

Jason ribbits again, Kirby picks him up, "Jason you apologise for calling him a woman stealer, you're a frog."

Helms blinks a few times, then shrugs, just glad he isn't the one being chastised.

"Sorry baby, sometimes I forget that most people don't spend enough time out here to understand frogs"

"It's not so weird. Half my youth was spent talking to animals."

"I love you, mon ange, I may talk to frogs and read She-Hulk more than any real literature greats, but I love you and I love your stupid green clothes and your cute face."

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything."

"You better get back inside before the guys get annoyed or it starts raining."

"Good call. If it starts raining, don't just sit and get wet here, okay? Don't need you sick on the plane tomorrow."

"I'm not gonna get wet, was just gonna say buy to Fester, Lydia and Jason and then come back in, but as you can see my attempt at a goodbye has led to this."

"They love you as much as I do."

"Yeah, and I don't want to squish them but I need the bathroom"

"Should I help you take them back to the lake?"

Kirby nods in agreement.

"Alright, c'mon lil buddies, Daddy Shane's gotta take you back home."

Kirby picks up Jason and Lydia, handing Jason to Helms and picking up Fester. Helms holds Jason so carefully, like he's carrying a slimy precious stone.

"You know he isn't made of glass, mon ange."

"He's precious to you, so he's precious to me."

"Also, don't mess with the tadpoles, they may be small and adorable but you touch them and Lydia will bite you."

"Tadpoles? You're gonna be a grandma at thirty?"

"Helms, don't make me feel old, and I'm thirty-one, not thirty."

"If it makes you feel better, once we get married, I'll be a grandpa at like twenty-seven or twenty-eight."

"True... wait, Helms, do you know when my birthday is?" Kirby questions, genuinely curious.

"Deeply hoping it isn't tomorrow."

"You watched the tapes and forgot my birthday? You better be glad it ain't tomorrow, Helms."

"I'm shit at dates, sweetheart." He protests. "I wouldn't know what day of the week it was if we didn't have Raw and Smackdown to film"

"January thirteenth, Nineteen-Seventy." Kirby states flatly.

"And now I'm never gonna forget it ever again."

"While we're on the subject," Kirby pauses to put the frogs next to the lake, "When's your birthday, because Glenn says it July twelfth."

"Yup. Seventy-Four. My parents used to joke that my birth caused the Watergate Scandal."

"Jesus" Kirby sighs, turning around to walk back to the house.

Helms follows along, not having noted just how excited he was for pizza. Kirby reaches the house and grabs a can of Pepsi from the fridge. The rest of the evening is calm and laid-back. A couple of beers shared, but moving to pop as the night gets longer. Sharing pizza and salad and just bonding as friends.

"Alright, so, has everyone enjoyed being here? Where I spend time away from work."

"God yes. It's so peaceful. Relaxing. I can walk down the street and people just give me weird looks for wearing crop tops instead of being famous." Lita grins, lying back on the couch happily.

"Anyone else wanna chime in?"

"It's nice being back in NC." Jeff decides. "Forgot how much I liked it here."

"Where you guys are from ain't far from here." Kirby states.

"We could visit Ma on the way to the airport, couldn't we?" Matt comments.

Jeff nods, Kirby puts her head on Helms' shoulder.

"You okay?" Helms whispers to her.

"Just thinking, once we're married, this won't just be my place anymore, I won't be alone anymore." Kirby whispers back.

"You won't be. You okay with that?"

"It'll be the first time since dad, ya know." Kirby whispers, hiding her face in her hands.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. If it's too big a change, I don't have to move in right away..."

"No, Helms, I... I don't want to be alone Shane."

"Then you won't have to be. Whatever you need, I'll make it happen."

Kirby wipes away tears from her eyes and kisses Helms' cheek.

"I love you. Just want you comfortable and happy."

"I know, Shane, I know, it's just a lot to take in."

"Luckily, you're gonna get a good few months to adapt first."

Kirby nods as she finishes her salad, "you know something, guys, Lita this isn't about you, I love you like a sister. But, I don't think I've ever met three men who are so alike in my life."

All three of them look up with precisely the same confused facial expression. "How do you mean? We've got next to nothing in common." Helms says through a mouthful of pizza.

Lita and Kirby double over laughing in response. The laughter only makes them more confused.

"You all looked up with the same expression." Kirby murmurs.

"Helms is the third Hardy brother" Lita jokes.

"Same expression? I don't look anything like them."

"You did when you made that face, babe" Kirby whispers through laughter.

"You guys know where your dad was around November Seventy-Three?" Helms chuckles.

Kirby struggles to hold back her laughter as the Hardy's look at each other and then both shake their heads 'no'.

"Might want to find out... lil bros." He teases.

#Kirby Roussimoff #Shane Hurricane Helms #Blacklight Bandit #Orange and green - the perfect team #Superheroes with Secrets

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

Superheroes with Secrets: Sex in an Alley (Fic part 35) (Set in 2001)

Around 2000 Words. 18+ in places.

Tags: @piratewithvigor please inform me if you wish to be tagged/untagged from posts

‘Giantess’ Kirby Roussimoff x Shane ‘Hurricane’ Helms (Circa 2001)

Reference Posts: Shane ‘Hurricane’ Helms

Kirby ‘The Blacklight Bandit’ Roussimoff

Notes: The story is set in 2001, which would make Helms 27 and Kirby 31. This story also blends Kayfabe and Reality. Certain people speak in different colours, Mainly: Helms is Green. Kirby is Orange. Kane is Red. Undertaker is Purple. Big Show is Blue.

Other members of the BSK are also in purple.

Other women are in Pink.

Kirby pulls away, keeping her lips barely against his, "what was that for?"

"Liked the poem. I know snapping fingers is more traditional, but I couldn't stop myself."

"If that's gonna be how you react, I have more poetry." Kirby whispers against his lips.

"Yes please."

Kirby pulls away to recite another poem, "I don't actually remember the title of this one, but," she clears her throat and begins, "I live with my ghosts, they don't terrorize me, I let them make a home, in the depths of my soul, because real romantics, never truly let go, So, haunt me to my grave, 'til my dying day, your name on my lips, put my bones in a dirt pit."

He kisses her again happily, "Goddamn, I love you."

"Thank you, mon ange, would you like another poem?"

"As many as you have."

"There's a short poem called 'A drinking song' which goes as follows, Wine comes in at the mouth, and love comes in at the eye; that's all we shall know for truth, before we grow old and die. I lift my glass to my mouth, l look at you, and I sigh."

"You must know every gothic poem at this point."

"I am thirty-one, that does mean I've had a lot of time to read poetry."

"That's true, but you're not over the hill yet." Helms chuckles.

"True, and I've just remembered another poem, I can't remember the title but it goes as follows, Every night it’s the same dark dream; And it always ends with a scream; You’re following me; You’re haunting me; You know I’m not what I seem. It’s a black hot drenching heat; Late at night on an empty street; You’re chasing me; You’re right behind me; And you smell so eternally sweet. You don’t come from the human swarm; You’re of a distinctly different darkened form; You’re touching me; You’re tongue is breaking me; You’re smoothly warm. Life is complex and monstrous; Pleasure at times is cancerous; Your hand slides up; And you find my cup; Life should be always so wondrous. Your nails dig deep into my skin, Even as my head begins to spin; You’re a burning flame; But I’ll not cast any blame; For you’ve given me an evil grin. We’re on the brink of a cool spring; It’s time to make you my all new king; Your tongue finds mine; And I can taste your bloody wine; Please make my body sing. I give in to a long deep sigh; Tell me we'll never say good-bye; Now comes the bite; and I won't fight; Even if it's time to die."

That one merits another deep kiss. When they part, Helms is giving her his most deeply intoxicating glance. "Liked that one a lot."

"God, your eyes are tempting me to fuck you in an alley."

"Are there any alleys around?"

"One in about a block"

"Works for me."

Kirby smirks, upping the pace she's walking at and taking Helms to the alley. He's just as eager as he follows, needing to take a few extra steps to keep up with her long ones. When they reach the alley, Kirby pins Helms against the wall, kissing him roughly. He's kissing back with just as much intensity. Kirby pulls away to remove her dress, staying close enough to kiss Helms as she does so. He unzips his fly. Not quite as dramatic a gesture, but when they're just in an alley, he wants to be able to get dressed quickly. Kirby slides her hand into his underwear, kissing him deeply.

"Gonna fuck you right up against this wall." He grins.

"Oh really?" Kirby teases.

"Yeah, really. Might even make you moan."

"Whatcha waiting for, Hero?"

"Just these." He hooks his thumbs into her panties and shoves them down before sliding inside her.

Kirby moans as he slides into her wet heat, biting his neck lightly.

"Goddamn, you feel good..."

"Can't... talk... brain no work" Kirby struggles out between deep breaths.

"Me neither..." he chuckles, moving his hips against hers quickly.

"Oh fuck me... Helms... I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart. Love you so damn much."

Kirby pulls Helms' head back by his hair, weaving her hand under his beanie and kissing him deeply. His pace grows a little less steady as he gets closer to his orgasm, definitely encouraged by Kirby lightly tugging on his hair.

"Fuck me, Helms, I'm so close" Kirby whispers as she tugs on his hair a little more.

"So am I..."

Kirby pulls Helms into a heated kiss, right as she cums, moaning against his lips. He pushes inside her deeply as he reaches the edge, enjoying her squeeze.

Kirby pulls away from the kiss, her forehead against his, breathing heavily, "fuck, I needed that so badly."

"Same. Wouldn't have made it back to the ranch."

"I know this is wrong but, the entire time we were at the diner, I just kept thinking about you fucking me in the bathroom and I didn't want to suggest it."

"Aw man, and I totally would have."

"It's why I was acting like such a bitch."

"You weren't acting like a bitch. Just horny."

"I kept wanting to rile you up and drag you into the bathroom but I didn't and I don't know why I didn't."

"Cause you wanted to look like a good girl?" He shrugs.

"I guess"

"Don't have to play pretend like that." He smirks.

"I just, I love you, I don't want to hold myself back from doing that, ever again."

"Then don't. Take me whenever you want me."

"No more letting other people control me, just me ... and you, and... fuck I wanna have kids with you."

"Think we're well on the way to that at this rate." He chuckles.

Kirby's phone goes off from inside her handbag, "I may need to answer that."

"Gonna do it with your panties around your ankles in an alley?" He teases.

"Well, unless Glenn asks what he did last time, he won't know."

"Good point. Might as well answer."

Kirby pulls away from Helms, bending down and giving him a good view of his cum dripping out of her as she bends over to get her phone. He zips up his fly, a self-satisfied little smirk on his face.

Kirby answers the phone as she pulls up her panties and pulls her dress back on, "what's up my guy?"

Deciding to be a lil shit, Helms gets a little closer than a gentleman usually would, gently kissing along Kirby's collarbone.

"Hi, Glenn..." Kirby holds Helms back by a palm against his head, "Helms fuck off, no."

He gives her a little eyebrow wiggle and lowers down to his knees, running his fingers up along her leg to her inner thigh.

"Yeah, Glenn, what's up with that? A what?! They're making Intergender Tag Belts!?" Kirby nearly yells from the mix of shock and excitement.

Helms stops his teasing as he jumps to his feet excitedly.

Kirby gets off the phone and hoists Helms into a kiss, "I hope you love your work gear because we may need to train a lot together"

"Fully planning on it. Our match on the thirteenth is probably the debut of them."

"Yep, you and me in the first intergender tag team tournament match... against Big Show and Molly Holly."

"Sounds like a hell of a matchup."

Kirby puts Helms down, "well, Molly is one of the Holly family, so she's gonna specialize in extreme wrestling and Show is a giant so he focuses on things that make him look incredibly powerful"

"Just like us."

"Exactly like us, Glenn called because," Kirby pauses for a moment, bending down to grab her purse, her dress rips at the back as she does so, "fuck" she mutters.

"You must've been doing a lot of squats since you last wore this one."

"Haven't worn this is like two years," Kirby stands up, now very aware of the rip down the ass of her dress, "as I was going to say, Glenn called me because," this time she carefully bends her knees to grab her heels before getting up, "Show got a call from Vince and freaked out about having to fight with Molly against me."

"Aw, did he need his little sister to promise not to kick his ass to kingdom come?"

"I'm not his real sister, Helms, also yes... he doesn't really want to fight us because he knows if he hurts you, I'll kill him."

"It goes both ways, sweetheart."

"Yeah, and I dare say, I'm more intimidating than you." Kirby teases.

"The fans haven't seen The Hurricane when his loved one is threatened." He says with a steely look in his eye.

"So, what would the Hurricane do, if the Blacklight Bandit was in peril?" Kirby questions, cocking an eyebrow.

"He'd kick more ass than anyone had ever seen before."

"Ooh, you really know how to make a girl feel special, mon ange."

"You say that, but you haven't seen it before."

"I have a visual imagination, mon ange."

"Then picture it. Hell, I could kick anyone's ass if they let me. Even The Rock's."

Kirby pulls Helms into a kiss, feeling his hands mess with the rip in her dress. He gives her ass a little squeeze through it, giggling like a teenager. Kirby sighs as she pulls away, giving him a look of 'seriously?'.

"Weren't you the one saying how we need to take what we want?" He grins.

"Don't make the rip bigger or else I can't fix it and wear this again." Kirby murmurs.

"Just one squeeze won't hurt anything. I promise I'll keep my hands to myself until we get back to the ranch."

Kirby nods, covering her ass with her purse as she heads out of the alley and back towards the ranch. Helms walks a step or two behind her, making sure the rip is hidden from view properly.

"Do not grab my ass babe"

"Wouldn't dream of it. Not until the dress is safely all the way off in the privacy of home."

By the time they reach the ranch, the Hardy's and Lita have made their way back already.

"Surprised they didn't wreck the car or something."

Kirby laughs at his comment, before getting inside and heading upstairs to change. Helms has got the post-sex glow about him, which all three members of Team Extreme can see immediately.

"So..." Jeff starts, "How was it? Ya get lucky?"

"A gentleman never tells." Helms grins, very smug with himself.

"C'mon, tell us..." Matt tries to bribe Helms with beer, "tell us and you get beer"

"Tempting, but I'm pretty sure if I accept, I'll never get laid again."

"Just this once, please" Jeff practically begs him.

"I say ask her when she gets back from fixing the rip in her dress."

Kirby reappears in a black Hawaiian shirt and shorts with no makeup on.

"Feeling better, sweetheart?"

"Much better... why do you two have beer?" Kirby questions, cocking an eyebrow in confusion and sticking her tongue out slightly as she ties her hair up.

"They're trying to bribe me into telling what we got up to in the alley."

"We are engaged, what do you think happened?" Kirby asks, rather bluntly.

"Didn't want to tell without your permission."

"I don't fucking care, you're going to marry me eventually, if we fuck we fuck, just don't tell Big Show." Kirby murmurs.

"Good call. I like having my skull not bashed in."

"Show doesn't like when I compare him and you, even when I'm right."

"He's protective of you. Pretty much the only way we're similar."

"Yeah and I love you both, even if you both annoy me at times." Kirby whispers.

"Keep that in mind in the next few minutes." Helms turns to the group and raises his voice above a whisper. "We boned in the alley and it was hot as fuck. Now gimme a beer."

#Kirby Roussimoff #Shane Hurricane Helms #Blacklight Bandit #Orange and green - the perfect team #Superheroes with Secrets

[writernotwaiting]

Fallen Angels, ch. 23

Chapter 23 – Before: “Seven for a Secret”  Chapter Summary: In which Loki and Sigyn have some issues they need to work through. The action here picks up immediately after the events of chapter 22 in which Loki embarked on a campaign to teach the Aesir some respect, Sigyn was none too pleased with this, and Sigyn was “invited” to take up residence in the palace proper. Rating: E for the story overall; M for this chapter. If you are under 18, go read something else! Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Thor, Anna (ofc), Balder (might-as-well-be-omc), Amora (a might-as-well-be ofc), Odin, Elli (a stone giantess and might-as-well-be-ofc), Cyril (omc), Tyr Story Description: a post-apocalyptic, MCU-Norse mythos mash-up; science fiction/fantasy

I will re-blog with the tags.  I would be glad to add to or remove from the tag list at your request.

Bless you, again to @icybluepenguin, without whom this chapter would be a skeleton of its current self.

I would like to dedicate this chapter to my readers in Texas: @marvelousmissfit, @indomitablemegnolia, and anyone else whom I am unaware of. I hope this serves as a temporary distraction to What Mother Nature Hath Unleased Upon You.

Ch. 1: Walking with unblest feet

 Ch. 22: Never Say that I Was False of Heart Ch. 24: ?

One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret, Never to be told. Eight for a wish, Nine for a kiss, Ten for a bird, You must not miss. [yes, I totally stole the idea to use this folk song from @incredifishface -- sue me] 

Norns, I’m tired. Loki rubbed his temple hard as his horse ambled up the road toward the lodge, and he sighed with deep relief as soon as the house came into view. As he got closer, though, his brow furrowed at the dark windows and smokeless chimney.

Sigyn should be home at this time of day.

His quick eye darted around the landscape, taking note: he could see lights in Anna and Torvald’s cottage, their older children still outside bent over a game in the fading light, Fenryr sprawled out next to them, but everything at the great house was quiet, even though the grass was trampled on the front lawn.

Maybe she stayed in the village with a patient. It was not unheard of, though it happened less often out here, because of her dislike for the local officials. Even if she were with a patient, though, that didn’t explain the great divots in the grass.

He turned his horse toward the cottage.

The two children stood as he got closer, and the taller reached up to take the reigns while Loki dismounted. Fenryr trotted over to nudge at Loki’s hand, wuffing softly for a scratch.

“Leif, where is Sigyn? Will she return soon?”

The two children exchanged worried looks before the boy answered, “She’s gone back to Asgard, Master Loki.”

[read more cut here]

“Back to Asgard? When.”

Before the child could answer, Torvald came out of the house, and Loki repeated his question. “Torvald, where is Sigyn?”

Torvald frowned, his brow scrunched in confusion. “Einherjahr came two weeks ago, master, and escorted her back to Asgard. They said she was to live in the palace.”

“What?”

“Did you not know?”

Loki shook his head as a sick feeling settled in his gut. “I’ve been away, and no message was sent.”

Torvald gestured to his son to take the horse over to the stable. “I am sorry, Master, I thought perhaps you were at court and had been told.”

Loki shook his head once more and drew close, “No. This is news to me. Is she ok? Who was the captain? Did they treat her well?”

“She is fine, though none too happy at the summons,” Torvald smiled ruefully as he said it. “The guard were led by Tyr. He was very respectful. They only just left four days ago.”

Loki dragged a hand through his hair as he contemplated what to do. “Tyr? I thought better of him than to carry out such a frivolous summons.”

Torvald shrugged. “He had the decency to apologize for it.”

Loki scoffed, “Pfft! What good is an apology like that? Empty words to ease a guilty conscience.”

Torvald shrugged again, implying that he expected no less, before he got a twinkle in his eyes. “She at least made them earn their pay before they left.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“She told them they might as well be useful while she packed up her things, since she wouldn’t be here to winterize the house. She put three of them to work cleaning the stables, and another raked out Anna’s fallow kitchen garden. Two of them hauled the carpets out of the parlor and beat the dirt out of them in the yard there. They loaded the wagon, then she made them unload it and re-pack everything before loading it all back on. Then she remembered a few more things that she could not do without. Then she had them dig through to the middle of the pile for a book she decided ought to remain here.  It was quite the thing to behold. They won’t forget their stay anytime soon.”

“Ha! I wish I had been here to see it.”

Torvald sobered. “I wish it, too.” He thought for a moment, staring at the dirt at his feet before looking up once more. “Where have you been, Master?”

Loki’s eyes flashed darkly at Torvald’s implications. “Are you forgetting something, Torvald?”

Torvald paused a long time before he answered, carefully taking in his master’s face. Loki had changed since they first met, back before the couple had moved to the city, before the fight with Thor, before the children had died. The mischievous glint in Loki’s eyes had lost much of its mirth, and while he had always been lean, what few curves he once possessed were now hardened into sharp angles.

Torvald’s voice grew heavy with melancholy. “No, Master, I know my place better than most, I imagine; it’s just that—“ Torvald lowered his voice considerably,  “it’s only that we are worried—Anna and I. Something is wrong out there. We know this. But something is wrong here, too,” and Torvald held a knotted fist to his chest, before reaching inside a breast pocket to pull something out. Loki began to turn away angrily, but Torvald risked a hand on his arm, and placed an emerald ring in Loki’s palm. “She left this here, in the kitchen. She thinks she is alone.”

Loki pulled his arm away, though not with the anger Torvald expected. He clutched his fist tight around the ring, jaw muscles working as he struggled for control. After a few short moments, Loki turned back to him, eyes hard as an ice floe. A decision had been made somewhere behind them.

“I will sleep a few hours in the lodge—just enough to make sure my horse is rested—then I will leave for the court—before light breaks if I can.”

Torvald nodded, watching Loki as he strode up to the big house before he went himself to check on his son’s work in the stable. As he did so, Torvald thought to himself that he was glad not to be counted among his master’s enemies. Loki had hardened into a glacier during these last few years, and to lay in his path would be to face certain obliteration, either in the explosive crash of an avalanche, or in the slow, inexorable crushing of ice and rock over the landscape. There was no longer any mercy in him.

*****

The first thing Loki did when he reached the city that clung like barnacles about the royal court was to go to their house to see if there had been any damage. There was. Of course. As soon as he turned into their street he could see the scrawling marks of vandals on the walls. He did not expect the guards—two at each door. These informed him that his “necessitous effects” had been removed to his palace suite, while the Allfather placed a few other items “in protective custody.” Loki leveled a look at the guard that nearly caused him to wet himself, though he somehow managed to hold his position.

*****

The second thing Loki did was confront the Allfather.

“I do not owe an accounting to you or anyone, Loki. I feel it safer for you to reside in the palace itself, and if the only way to accomplish that is to invite the healer, as well, then it shall be so.”

“My wife—she is my wife, and her name is Sigyn. Refusing to speak her name will not alter that fact.”

Odin continued as though Loki had not spoken, “I ordered that your personal items be brought from the house in town to your rooms here. All of your books, your bottles, concoctions, clothing, tools—along with all of the items she requires to ply her trade—everything was carried here in complete safety.”

“And what did you keep back?”

“There were some items that I deemed sensitive, and so placed them in secure conditions.”

“And these are?”

“A silver knife, some jewelry that seems to carry some sort of enchantment, a few papers, and Laufy’s dagger.”

“You have no right!—those jewels were wedding gifts from the dwarves and Utgard. Those blades are our house weapons.”

“I have every right! I am your father, Loki, but more than that, I am your king. They are in the vault, and there they shall remain as long as I see fit.”

“For what reason?”

“Safety.”

“Whose safety are we concerned about?”

“Asgard’s.”

*****

The third thing he did was to seek out his wife. He found her in an inner parlor, sitting rock still next to a balcony whose doors stood wide open. She stared into the middle distance, doing nothing. He leaned against the doorway. As he stood there, he closed his eyes briefly, just breathing in—the smell of a fireplace yet to be re-lit for the evening, the smells of the palace kitchen wafting in through the open balcony, the smell of the honeysuckle Sigyn must have brought from the lodge, and smell of the sage and lavender Sigyn used to launder her clothes and scent her bath. The ache in his heart grew.

At long last she addressed him without turning around, her voice flat, her sentences clipped. “Did you know about this?”

“No.”

“Where were you when the summons came?”

“Learning things.”

“When did you find out?”

“I spoke to Torvald. Apparently I only missed you by four days.” Loki smiled stiffly. “He tells me you made the Einherjahr earn their keep while you packed.”

She did not smile as she replied. “It was the least they could do.”

Loki remained in the doorway during the long pause that followed, anchored there by the cold pit that had settled in his core ever since he realized the full extent of the ugliness that had settled on Asgard. The weight in his chest intensified as he looked at his wife across the distance. He wondered what sort of Hel he had condemned her to, what sort of Hel he would willingly walk through in order to make her safe, to make everyone pay for her suffering.

Was it a half hour? An hour that they remained just so? It certainly felt like it. At long last, he crossed the room, sinking onto his knees next to her, hand on her thigh. He could feel her tension. He couldn’t, in fact, remember the last time his own shoulders hadn’t felt like strings on a guitar tuned too high.

He squeezed her leg gently, looking outside as he spoke next, “What has it been like here? What are you permitted to do?”

She snorted, lip curled into a snarl. “They tell me that I am granted complete freedom of movement, and I can come and go from the palace whenever I please. They tell me that I have open access to all public places within the palace, even the kitchens!”

“However . . .”

“I am shadowed.”

Loki’s breath hissed at this, but he nodded as though he rather expected it.

“Oh, it’s at a discreet distance, mind you, but omnipresent, and close enough that it was noticed by several of my patients and at least one shopkeeper who asked that I not come back—it makes people nervous.”

“Yes.”

“He took our wedding presents.”

“I know. I went to the house before coming here. The guard also said something about some papers?”

“Your letters.” Sigyn’s fists clenched tight on the arms of the chair. “They took the letters you wrote to me while you served as ambassador.”

“I should have guessed. Not yours?”

She smiled innocently, eyes wide. “They must have been lost when we moved. Oops.” She shrugged.

He chuckled and squeezed her leg once more. He shifted then, and began an inventory of the room. This was not the suite he had occupied growing up, but the rooms were still vaguely familiar. He had played enough games of hide and seek as a child to have been in and out of pretty much every corner and closet in the complex, and as an adolescent, he had made it his business to discover every nook and secret passageway. These rooms were much as he remembered, though the furnishings were perhaps not those that would have been laid out for more august guests. At least they had used his colors, rather than Thor’s.

“You have not been shielded.”

“I assumed not.” She patted his hand patronizingly. “Don’t worry, Loki, I have been a very good girl. Hardly any broken knick knacks.”

“Hmmph, that’s not why I asked.”

She shrugged and looked back outside. “You thought it.”

Loki sighed, then closed his eyes, mumbling as he started to work a few protections into the walls and ceiling so they could at least speak more freely. The room resisted these at first, which worried him, but gave way with more effort. When he felt he has assured them of some modicum of privacy, he looked up at Sigyn and smiled weakly. “I am sorry, Sigyn. For my long absences. It was not fair of me to leave you alone for so long.”

Sigyn shifted in her chair to face him. “It is not your physical absences that bother me. We certainly endured plenty of those during your exile. It is something else that I have missed. What has happened, Loki?” Her eyes searched his face as if reading some cryptic algorithm. “I hardly recognize what you’ve become—this creature consumed by vengeance. You have buried yourself.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor and knotted his fists. Of course she knew, though they had never spoken of it outright. She knew what he had been doing. Even when he answered, he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes, gazing out past the balcony as he spoke, his voice barely audible. “I burn, Sigyn. I am full of rage. Every time I see my golden brothers hailed as the source of all that’s great and good, every time Odin leans over to ask Amora’s opinion of some matter of state, every time I hear some whispered slur—” he broke off, and finally turned to look up at her directly. “They must learn to respect me, to respect you.” He took up her hand. “You have more power in your left hand than Amora will wield in her entire lifetime! If you would only learn!”

“Stop.” She extricated her hand from his.

It was like arguing with a stone. His shoulders sagged. “I feel as though a net is tightening around us, and all I can do is watch. I have been tracking Balder and Amora. She has established a cult on Midgard, hundreds of little mortal sheep that she has duped into worshipping her with a little “faith healing” and prophecy. She drinks in their adoration, feeds on their worship. I have seen her intoxicated with it—quite literally. And when she returns to Asgard, she uses that power to create her golems. It takes tremendous amounts of energy to create the semblance of life. On her own, she would be lucky to have one or two of them, but she has created dozens, and she has convinced the All-father to utilize them in all sorts of places where an Einherjar would be too expensive.”

Sigyn ground her teeth. “Prophecy? When did she become a seer?”

“She has an artifact, a stone—I could feel its power even as I perched in a tree outside the temple. I do not know where she stole it from, but the stone gives her limited glimpses into the future. That is my next goal—to find where she keeps it hidden. Without it, her power will be greatly diminished.”

Sigyn scowled and across the room something shattered. “Why does He not do anything? Travel to Midgard is strictly prohibited. How, in all his infinite wisdom and all-seeing might, can he not know? What about Frigga? She knows everything?”

Loki couldn’t help but laugh under his breath, despite everything. “Do they keep replacing those as you break them?” then ducked swiftly to avoid the palm that nearly connected with his head, throwing his hands up in surrender before he continued, “Amora is a clever manipulator, and Odin sees only what he wants to see. . . As for Frigga . . . she has withdrawn from court. I have barely seen her in months. It’s as though she has retreated entirely. Have you seen her since you came here?”

“I have not seen her.” Sigyn hesitated. Then reached into a pocket of her breeches to pull something out wrapped in a bit of paper. “I did, however, find this under my pillow on my first night here.”

A pin for a cloak, decorated with a flock of magpies, seven of them, but space where one more had clearly been broken off.

“Is that all? No message?”

“On the paper.”

Perhaps you should do more research about your ancestry.

“Well that’s cryptic.”

“Yes.”

Loki handed the bundle back. “Have you?”

“Have I what?”

A smile spread over Loki’s face. “Done any more research?”

She scoffed. “How? That trail is long cold.”

“How long has it been since you’ve been to the library? Over 50 years? Well, guess who now lives in the palace with free access to all public places?”

“Oh yes, along with a free escort, to boot!”

His voice became all-over sweet. “But you will merely be researching your ancestry.”

“But I don’t know what I am looking for!”

“Look in your hand. I am the magpie—you know that. It has always been my favorite form for quick travel when I wish to avoid prying eyes. Frigga knows it, too. And there is an old Midgardian children’s rhyme about magpies: One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for silver, Six for gold, Seven for a secret, Never to be told. Eight for a wish, Nine for a kiss, Ten for a bird, You must not miss.”

Sigyn looked at the brooch once more, fingering the empty space where the eighth bird had been broken off. “So . . . no wishes?”

“The time is past for wishing. We must do something. And that book of the Norns—it is full of secrets. I’m sure she believes we will find something there. ”

“So Frigga  . . . ?”

“Perhaps she also watches. She is a shapeshifter, and now that I think about it, I’ve seen a cat lurking about the temple that seems to have a double at Amora’s estate.”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes, the bitterness heavy on her tongue. “Then let Frigga do something about it. Why us? We are already living on the edge. Have we not paid enough for her husband’s blindness?”

“It is precisely because we are on the edge that we can act. Odin’s bureaucracy is too entrenched to take down from within. It must be demolished from without, and its corruption must be laid completely bare.”

Sigyn looked once more at the brooch, still playing with the empty space where the eighth bird was once mounted. “One for sorrow,” she looked at Loki and grimaced in frustration. “What trouble will that bird fly to? Loki, Amora wants to destroy you.”

Loki swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“You are not the only one who burns with rage, Loki.” Her fist clenched around the brooch tight enough to draw blood. “I’ve felt its simmering from the moment Balder invaded our house after our wedding. Coal after smoldering coal has been added to that fire ever since. If Amora takes you from me, Loki, I will explode. And I promise you, a good deal else will burn right next to me.”

Loki picked up her hand and pulled it to his face, brushing the back across his own cheek. “Sigyn, I am so very sorry. I allow my obsessions to close out everything else. Never doubt, however, that you are the very bedrock for everything I do—you are my breath, my blood, the spark of seidr that brings them to life.” He brought out the emerald ring Torvald had given him. “Will you wear this once more? A second pledge? I cannot promise that I will not fight her, but I do promise you are my lodestone, and I will always return to you.”

Sigyn put the ring on her finger and grabbed hold of Loki’s hand once more to squeeze it tight, and he pressed the knuckles to his lips. “I am so sorry, my love.” A tear dropped onto her hand and rolled away.

“Oh Loki.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not relinquish it, pressing kisses to each joint, turning her hand over to press his lips to her palm and each fingertip, guiding it to cup his face as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch like a cat.

Sigyn set the brooch aside and ran her fingers through his hair, scraping his scalp gently. “I have missed you, dearest,” she whispered. “So much.”

He turned his head to place soft kisses on her wrist, running his other hand up her thigh until the thumb rested at the base of her hip. “It has been,” he agreed, “so very long.” He flicked his tongue over her pulse point, closing his eyes as he opened his mouth to suck gently and savor the taste of her skin. He heard her breath quicken, and he shifted to kneel between her knees.

Sigyn raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to make it up to me? I might allow you to worship me for the evening.”

“Oh you might?”

“I think I deserve a bit of pampering after what you’ve put me—ahh—through.” She gasped as he pushed up her loose sleeve and nipped at the soft flesh inside her elbow.

“I have always enjoyed paying proper homage to your flesh, dearest.” As he stretched up to bury his face in her neck, Sigyn’s gasp at being tickled morphed onto a low moan as he placed soft wet kisses under her ear, across her jaw, then back down her neck to the hollow at its base while his hand moved over her waist then up her ribs just beneath her breast. He felt her heart rate increase and her breath come faster.

“So beautiful.” He crooned into her flesh as he breathed her in, “Have I told you how much I love this waistcoat?” He tugged at the laces and insinuated fingers between the garment in question and the linen shirt beneath. “It hugs your curves in precisely the right way.”

“And what way is that?”

“In precisely every way that scandalizes the social parasites in these halls.” He rubbed his face over said curves for emphasis inhaling deeply as he went. “Intoxicating.”

“Oh . . . ahhh! You always did have a weakness for leather.” The words now coming breathy and low.

“Mmmmm . . . leather, and seidr, and herbs, and you.” He nosed the waistcoat aside to nibble at her breast through the shirt.

Sigyn’s hands moved up his arms over the lean muscle of his shoulders and then anchored themselves in his hair. As his attentions became more intense, her back arched up and her feet hooked behind his legs, the heels of her boots digging into his thighs, dragging herself to the edge of the chair and pulling him closer.

Loki took one more lingering suck before pulling back with a low chuckle. “I think I remember hiding in these rooms with Fandral on occasion.”

“Oh? He always was trouble, wasn’t he?”

“Hmm . . . back then? He was the best sort of trouble. I wonder if the bed is just as comfortable?”

Sigyn flashed a genuine smile at last. “Time to investigate, then?” She sighed.

“Definitely.” Loki picked her up as he stood in a single, fluid movement and headed into the bedroom.

#Fallen Angels #logyn #Sigyn #Loki #AU #fan fiction #Norse mythos #Marvel #mash up

[writernotwaiting]

Fallen Angels--ch. 25

Ch. 25—After: “Signaling you through the flames”

Chapter Summary: In which Thor threatens Sigyn’s houseguests, and she teaches him to mind his manners. The action returns once again to after The Event. This chapter picks up right after those of chapter 21, where Elli had just introduced Loki to Cyril, the gentleman stone giant, Sigyn had told Ellie of her parentage, and they had just been cursing at an unexpected visitor from Asgard.

Rating: E for the story overall. If you are under 18, go read something else! Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Thor, Anna (ofc), Balder (might-as-well-be-omc), Amora (a might-as-well-be ofc), Odin, Elli (a stone giantess and might-as-well-be-ofc), Cyril (omc), Tyr Story Description: a post-apocalyptic, MCU-Norse mythos mash-up; science fiction/fantasy

I will re-blog with the tags.  I would be glad to add to or remove from the tag list at your request.

Bless you, again to @icybluepenguin—your patience and advice have made this chapter much better than the plot filler it was.

Ch. 1: Walking with unblest feet

 Ch. 25: break, blow, burn, and make me new Ch. 26?

 [sorry, I really couldn’t find an image I liked--maybe I’ll add one later] _________________________________________________

As Sigyn ran around the corner of the house, she saw Cyril unfold himself to his full height—easily as tall as the spruce tree next to him, voice raised but still much gentler than seemed possible given the circumstances, “I have done nothing to provoke this attack, Thor King, nothing to offend you. Why do you raise your hammer at me?”

Thor hefted Mjolnir once more before he replied, “Your very presence here is an offense. You are in direct violation of treaties that have stood for over a thousand years. How can you claim that you have not offended? I shall see that you face trial and are punished for this violation, even if it means summoning the Einharjahr to do it.”

“That’s the Thor I remember,” Loki spat, “smash everything first and ask questions later.”

Cyril frowned deeply and straightened his back defiantly. “I shall not budge. Neither you nor your Aesir lackeys can move me.”

The air whistled as Thor began swinging his hammer.

“STOP!” Sigyn yelled as she stomped through the last few puddles in the yard, heedless of the mud, coat forgotten in the house.

Thor didn’t even turn his head to make his reply. “You have no authority here, Sigyn. This intruder must pay for his blatant disregard for the rule of law.”

Instead of answering, Sigyn held out her hand, fingers splayed wide, and with the gesture, Mjolnir began to glow with white heat, air crackling with the sudden temperature change. Thor yelled in surprise as he dropped her, shaking his blistered hand.

Only then did Sigyn address him once more, body rigid with the anger and resentments dredged up from the past. “You may have settled your debts with my husband, Thor, but I have yet to forgive you for your part in Loki’s imprisonment. If you are half the king your brother says you are, you had better back off and apologize to my guest, or else you can return to Asgard and try to explain to your wife why your dick is encased in molten armor.”

Thor gaped for a moment open mouthed at the hammer as she lay on the ground, smoke and flames curling around her handle as the sod beneath smoldered and burned. When, finally, he turned toward Sigyn, his face, too, burned red with anger.

“This.” He pointed to his weapon. “This is precisely why the council demanded your exile. Your rage turns you into a bilgesnipe that destroys friend and foe alike, and you cannot yourself mitigate the destruction you wreak. You are utterly uncontrollable.”

“There is where you are wrong, brother,” Loki cut in before Sigyn could issue more curses. “Do you see any damage to anything but yourself? Sigyn may once have been an untrained dragon, but now she is a laser, and you had best listen when she speaks.”

Thor clenched and unclenched his fists, wincing as the gesture irritated his burns, glancing once more at his hammer as it sat on the smoking earth beside him, then turning to glare at Sigyn once more, before looking up at Cyril who remained standing, rigid and frowning. “He is in direct violation of—“

“Spare me your recitation, Thor,” Sigyn cut in, “of the regulations that Asgard imposes on others but refuses to follow itself. I will be frank with you—my experience with Asgardian justice has ever been less just and more ass.”

“Sigyn!” Loki growled and quickly moved to interpose himself between his wife and brother as Thor began to advance.

Sigyn anchored her hands on Loki’s shoulders as she tried to push him aside and shout around him, “Do you think I have forgotten? You are the one who served as Odin’s elghund tracking your own brother and keeping him at bay. You are the drooling retriever who dragged him back in your teeth. I have tolerated you up to this point because Loki desired it, but I am not party to whatever truce you forced him to accept, and you will not get in the way of my vengeance by destroying those I see as kin. You may be my brother, but I feel no obligation to honor any ties of blood with you.”

Loki hissed low by her ear, “Sigyn, not now.”

She hissed right back, “Oh! I beg your pardon, Loki, if I have spoiled whatever dramatic scene of revelation you might have planned.”

“What?” Thor thundered over their exchange. “Vengeance against me? Against Asgard?”

Sigyn dodged so she could peer around Loki once more. “While that’s a tempting prospect, no, I have more important targets in mind, Brother. Amora is here, and you will not get in between me and her utter annihilation. Go back to Asgard, or somehow prove yourself better than our bastard of a father, and get out of my way!”

The wheels suddenly clicked into place and Thor’s mouth dropped open. “Our f—? What are you talking about?” He turned to Loki. “Loki, what is she talking about?”

Loki snarled at his wife, “I cannot believe you just did that!” Then turned to his brother, one hand on his forehead in frustration and the other making a grand gesture toward Sigyn. “In their infinite wisdom, Thor, the Norns gifted the universe with another child of Odin. Meet your sister, Sigyn, Once-Hailed-Outlander.”

A chorus of what’s echoed around the yard from Thor, Cyril, and Logi, too, who had come around from the front of the house to investigate. The sounds of their confusion was underscored by the descant of Elli’s cackling.

Thor stepped closer and repeated himself, voice slightly lower than a moment ago, “What are you saying?”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes and leveled a baleful glare in his direction. “I am of Odin’s blood. Part Odin and,” she held up a hand to display an impressive blossom of flames flickering from her fingertips, “part fire giant.”

And though one would not have thought it possible, her words became even more sharp as she doused the flames by making a fist. “Life is just full of surprises, is it not? Sigyn Outlander, apparently, is more kin to you than the brother you were raised with. Does that change things?”

“No! Yes! Wait!” Thor scrubbed his forehead with his injured hand then jerked it away in pain. “Who knows this? How long have you known this? Did Father know this?”

Loki interjected before Sigyn spat out more insults, “Just us, and Heimdal now, I suppose, since there’s no shielding here in the yard,” and he glared once again at Sigyn. “And we’ve only known it for a few days.” He hesitated slightly, then added, “We don’t know if Odin knows.”

Thor’s eyes jumped from one face to the other as he struggled to digest this, even as Elli smirked and occasionally giggled from behind them all.

“Could we—“ Thor began, halted, then began again. “Could we go inside and talk? I feel as though I need to sit down.”

Sigyn crossed her arms. “Apologize to my guest first.”

Loki’s face was pure astonishment.

Thor’s mouth worked for a moment like a fish stuck out of water. He ran his fingers through his hair—with the uninjured hand—before turning to Cyril with a dazed look. “I am sorry. We will sort this out later.”

Cyril nodded curtly, but as soon as Thor turned to head into the house, he grinned gleefully and winked at Elli.

Once Loki and Thor closed the kitchen door, Sigyn looked between Elli and Cyril, over to Logi and then back to Elli, nodding at the house. “Elli, will you . . .”

Elli snorted. “No, little one, I’d sooner sunbathe on Jotunheim than sit in a room with the three of you right now. I will stay out here and listen to what Logi has to say.”

Sigyn scowled at her then followed the two men inside, followed by Elli’s unbridled amusement, “molten armor, heehee! I’d like to see Sif’s face at that! Ha!”

Once inside the couple explained more fully what Sigyn had discovered, and what they suspected of Amora’s proximity. Of Cyril, they only told Thor that he came to help, skipping over the length of his stay on Midgard and his connection to Loki’s mother.

Only then did they mention the stone, and the necessity of approaching Odin.

Thor’s answer, however, was unequivocal. “He cannot help.”

Indignant hackles straightened Sigyn’s spine. “Why not?”

“He sleeps, Sigyn.”

“What?”

“He has entered the Odinsleep. He has been asleep for a year-and-a-half.”

“How very convenient,” Sigyn spat out, just as Loki loosed his own indignation, “When were you going to mention this?”

When Thor only shrugged, Sigyn prodded him, “Have you tried to wake him up?”

Thor sputtered. “What? No! It’s the Odinsleep! He must remain undisturbed.”

Sigyn remained undeterred. “Oh, I’ll disturb him, alright.”

“I forbid it.”

“How will you stop me?”

“Sigyn!” Loki shouted before she could go any farther. She snapped her mouth shut, but remained far from pleased.

Loki leaned toward Thor from his seat on the couch, elbows on his knees. “Thor, we have to at least try. Can you not take us to his bedside to see if he will wake? The stone must be returned to the Norns. It would take me months to find the path, but the Allfather has walked that road at least once already. We need his help.”

“I will need to consult with the Council.”

“Why?” The couple spoke in sync.

“Because Sigyn is barred. She cannot enter Asgard without their permission.”

Sigyn set her jaw and crossed her arms as she stood menacingly behind the couch. “How will they stop me?”

Loki sighed as he leaned back into his seat once more. “This is not helpful Sigyn.”

She turned her wrath on him. “No? Too bad. How many years did I endure Asgard’s sanctimonious condescension? The sneers of their shopkeepers? The whispers of their golden-tressed ladies? How dare they bar my presence from my birthplace? What home do they believe I have elsewhere?”

“But they will see things differently now,” Thor insisted.

“Will they?”

“If you are truly Odin’s offspring . . .”

“Of course,” she sneered, “that changes everything.”

Thor screwed his mouth in a cynical smile. “Yes actually. Yes, it does. Whether we like it or not.”

“How long?” Loki sighed as he spoke. “How long will it take?”

“A few weeks?”

Sigyn huffed in exasperation. “We do not have a few weeks, Thor. Logi says they have spotted dozens of enforcers — just like the ones Amora made for Odin—and they are only a week or two away from here. The stone should not be here when she arrives.”

“A week, Thor.” Loki insisted. “You have a week. And we do not hear from you before then, we will seek out Odin on our own.”

Thor set his jaw. “We will not open the Bifrost to you.”

Loki laughed. “You know very well that I do not need the Bifrost to travel between the realms. We will do what is necessary, with or without the Council’s permission. Certainly, I would rather have your cooperation, but I will act without it if need be.”

Thor sat in silence for a long time, finally asking if he could take a walk outside for a few minutes to think. The couple agreed, Sigyn suggesting that this would give them time to finish talking with Elli, Cyril, and Logi.

As Thor wandered off into the tress, Loki and Sigyn crossed the yard to their visitors. The information Logi brought was both completely expected, and shockingly surprising.

“Well, we expected her to bring an army, didn’t we?” Loki seemed non-plussed.

“Yes,” replied Logi, “but there is one tiny detail that could complicate our strategy.”

“Which is?”

He looked right at Loki. “They all look like you.”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“All of the dolls we have seen are molded in your form, Loki. She has an entire army of you.”

“She’s insane,” cried Sigyn.

“I don’t think her relative sanity was ever in question,” came Elli’s flat reply.

Cyril cut in softly, “She knows it will make you hesitate.”

“Sorry?” Sigyn had nearly forgotten he was there, he had been so quiet.

The look Cyril gave Sigyn was perhaps the saddest she had ever seen. “She knows how difficult it will be for you to strike down your husband. Whether she wins or loses, she will make you suffer. What better way to hurt you than to make you kill your love over and over and over and over. She doesn’t seek victory. Only pain.”

Loki took Sigyn’s hand and squeezed it tight. “We must return the stone to the Norns. Now. With or without Thor’s help.”

#Fallen Angels #Loki #Sigyn #logyn #AU #fan fiction #Norse mythos #MCU #mash up #post-apocalyptic

[writernotwaiting]

Fallen Angels -- ch. 21

Chapter 21 – After: Emotional reinforcements

Chapter Summary: In which Loki and Sigyn have some unexpected visitors. This chapter picks up right after chapter 20 (oh my heavens – continuity for once!). Rating: E for the story overall. If you are under 18, go read something else! Characters: Loki, Sigyn, Thor, Anna (ofc), Balder (might-as-well-be-omc), Amora (a might-as-well-be ofc), Odin, Elli (a stone giantess and might-as-well-be-ofc), Cyril (omc) Story Description: a post-apocalyptic, MCU-Norse mythos mash-up; science fiction/fantasy

I will re-blog with the tags.  I would be glad to add to or remove from the tag list at your request.

Thank you again and again (and again), @icybluepenguin , for your help and encouragement and editing. You are an angel. Thank you also to @pedeka for being an unfailingly patient sounding board and for listening to my whiny writer complaints.

Ch. 1: Walking with unblest feet

 Ch. 20: Up from the Bottom of a Well Ch. 22: Never say that I was false at heart

[I borrowed this image from an actual rectory in Pembrokeshire that is now a B&B -- pretty, isn’t it?]

Unfortunately, Sigyn’s initial giddiness didn’t last. All her life, as long as she had remained ignorant, it had been easy to construct romantic fantasies about her parents — dreams of a persecuted race, or tales of forbidden love. The reality was decidedly less romantic, and much more baffling. Immaculate conception, apparently. An asexual creation from blood fished out of a well, and magically implanted into the womb of some unsuspecting (or complicit? The book was frustratingly silent on this point) fire giantess, who had then been hounded out of her realm by a fiery father — pun intended, thank you very much.

And why?

Certainly, it wasn’t because the Norns had suddenly gotten a maternal urge to cuddle a baby, sing lullabies, and change diapers, because they sure as Hel hadn’t done that. They created her, and then abandoned her. More than abandoned her — placed her precisely in harm’s way by leaving her mother vulnerable to the wrath of Surt, lord of all fire giants and first-class grump. Then they failed to intervene when she was dumped on Asgard, orphaned, with no hint of who her father was. It made no sense, and she felt more alone than ever, to think the Norns had created her, watched her grow, carved the runes that hinted at her fate just as they would for any other soul, re-arranged those runes as Sigyn had taken control over those the pieces of her destiny that she could — yet they had never touched her, never reached out to soothe, or forewarn.

Was she a chess piece?

An experiment?

An instrument of spite?

If it were the latter, she had certainly had success there, at least.

But why?

Sigyn lay awake night after night trying to understand it. Failing utterly.

Loki pulled himself out of his own distraction to try and push Sigyn through hers. Working on the theory that inertia would either be their greatest asset or their worst enemy, he scheduled her days — a body in motion will stay in motion. He invented seidr exercises, concocted ways for her to practice her fire magic, sparred with her — fire against ice. For this, they quickly discovered that they needed to reinforce the walls of their attic practice room. It turns out that the action of super-heated air on ice is, well, explosive.

On the other hand, it was also cathartic. Sometimes, you really just need to blow something up.

Late one afternoon as they sat in the bedroom nursing a few wounds from their latest session, Sigyn finally felt ready to talk pragmatically about everything. She dabbed a salve on Loki’s neck where he’d been burned. “I’m sorry, dearest. I let that one get away from me.”

“No, it’s my own fault. I got distracted when I saw your frostbite. I let my guard down.”

She snorted. “We are a pair, aren’t we? It’s a wonder we don’t simply cancel each other out in a great chaotic conflagration.”

“At this rate, we may yet manage it.” He reached around to caress her rear. “But it will be a glorious end.”

She sniggered but kept her focus on the wound while she talked. “I suppose we should tell Thor, eventually.”

“If we expect his help, yes.”

“And we shall probably have to do that sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes. We will need his help in speaking with the old bastard, and we need to take care of that soon if we are to get rid of that stone properly.”

Sigyn straightened briefly so she could look her husband in the eye. “Do you think Odin ever suspected what I was? Do you think he knew?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, honestly. It might explain his unreasonable hostility. Of all the bastards he fathered, you are the only one sired without his consent. They stole something from him when they created you. I can see where he would resent it, and resent you as a reminder of it.”

She turned to begin putting away her supplies. “I wonder if the Norns planned for him to take me in, and that somehow Odin sidestepped the path they had written for him.”

“That would be like him. He likes only the rules he imposes himself.”

She snorted. “Like father, like daughter!”

“That’s the spirit.” And he caught her around the waist to pull her into his lap.

They were startled then by a sharp banging on the kitchen door. They knew exactly who it was — “Elli.” Loki braced himself for a confrontation as they went downstairs.

When they opened the door, though, Elli just barely stepped inside before insisting they come out. “You must come and meet someone” was all she would say.

“Can they not come here?” Sigyn asked suspiciously.

“He is here, little one, but he cannot come into the house.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because he’s too hulking big to fit through the door, girl, and bless his heart, he’s never mastered shapeshifting, just a bit of camouflage. Come on, Loki. This is important!”

The couple found their boots and Sigyn her coat before they followed Elli around the side of the house. There they came face to knee with one of the oddest giants they had ever seen. He was 15 to 20 feet high at least, and looked as though he were carved out of solid rock, rounded smooth at the edges, and he sat with his knees drawn up practically to his chest while he peered at a tiny bird on the side of a spruce trunk, sunlight glinting off the golden rims of round spectacles that perched on his earnest face.

Elli led them right up next to him and gently tapped his shin. “Cyril.” And when this failed to elicit a response she raised he voice, “Cyril! Here he is!”

The giant scrunched up his surprisingly expressive face in frustration as the nuthatch flew off.

“Elli, you scared her off!”

“Cyril, he’s here. Can you do the bird thing later?”

He immediately looked chagrined, and turning toward the couple, rushed to apologize, “So sorry. I just . . . their lives are so very short. I feel as though I have to get to know them as best I can when I see them, because there is so little time . . .” He turned to face them fully, blushing slightly. “You understand, don’t you?” and a look passed over his face that seemed to plead for comprehension while fully expecting rejection.

“Um . . .” Neither Loki nor Sigyn quite knew how to respond, and they turned to Elli in search of an explanation.

An awkward moment or two passed, before Elli looked back up at the giant. “I apologize, Cyril. I’m afraid I wasn’t able to forewarn them of our coming.”

“So, they don’t know . . .” And he was clearly a bit embarrassed by this news. Elli shook her head. “Ah. I see.”

He seemed to buck himself up a bit, and straightened his shoulders. “Well then, we should get on with the introductions, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes.” And here Elli turned back to the waiting couple. “Loki . . . Sigyn? This is Cyril. Cyril, this is Loki and his wife, Sigyn.”

Cyril bobbed his head a bit as he replied, “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Nice to meet you, as well,” Sigyn replied.

Another awkward pause followed. Cyril seemed unable to speak, but just stared intently at Loki, eyes darting over every detail of his face, his brow sinking further and further into melancholy the longer he looked. Eventually, Loki broke the silence. “So, to what do we owe the pleasure of his visit?”

The question clearly left Cyril flustered once again. His brow scrunched with emotion as he turned a set of pleading eyes on Elli. “Could you, Elli?” as a little tear gathered at the corner of his eye. “I’m not sure I will be able to explain — he looks so much like her.” And here he produced an enormous pocket square out of who-knows-where, dabbing at his eye before blowing his nose in distress.

Elli sighed with a strange mixture of frustration and affection. “Loki, before your mother was contracted to Laufey, she was a bit of a romantic.” Cyril sighed and became intensely interested in his shoes. “She and Cyril apparently carried on a very long correspondence. They were, may I say it, Cyril?” He nodded sadly, another tear trickling down his cheek. “They were very much in love.”

Cyril heaved another great sigh, turning his gaze onto Loki once more. “She was so beautiful, like river stones washed in the rushing water of spring. Her laugh was like listening to smooth pebbles being poured into a clean clay dish — hair as dark as the deepest cavern, eyes as green as bright moss on the mountain.” He blew his nose once more and Elli took up the tale again.

“For years, their correspondence remained secret, because they knew they would never be allowed to marry — her parents preferred to play politics, and Cyril never showed any talent in that area.”

“Alas, no.” He managed a melancholy laugh.

“So, when the contract was drawn up, they were forced to part. When the war started, Cyril did his part, but he proved to be as poor a soldier as he had a politician, though he did show some talent at reconnaissance.”

“Yes, that seemed to be my only useful talent.”

“Reconnaissance?” Sigyn couldn’t help but snigger as she took in the giant’s enormous frame. “How is that possible? You would be spotted immediately.”

Cyril looked offended. “I’ll have you know, I was considered a top notch intelligence agent, young lady — and my eyesight is still particularly keen, even without these glasses.”

Elli intervened. “Cyril can, indeed, give a stunning impression of a boulder — it’s amazing what people overlook when they have fixed expectations. Despite this skill, however, the warrior’s life was never one he was suited for, and at the conclusion of the war, Cyril preferred to remain here — away from politics, and away from any reminders of . . . other things.”

“I see.” Loki nodded, more than a little effected.

“At any rate, Loki, I thought, perhaps, you should like to talk to Cyril a bit. He knew your mother better than anyone, including myself, and maybe you would like to hear a bit about her from someone who cared for her as she deserved.”

Loki looked slowly from Elli, up to Cyril, down at Elli once more and up to Cyril again, mouth open like a netted salmon. When he once more looked up at Cyril, the giant pulled a packet of papers from somewhere (do giants have pockets? Where was he keeping those handkerchiefs?) “Would you like to see a picture of her? To look at you — there is no question at all whose son you are. No one could doubt.”

Elli tugged at Sigyn’s sleeve to pull her back toward the house. The younger woman hesitated, however. “Elli, what about The Watcher? Heimdall can see everything outside of the house. He will tell Thor that Cyril in on Midgard.”

“The time for hiding is over, little one. We cannot defend you and stay in the shadows both. Let the Aesir come. We are not afraid.”

Sigyn slowly brushed her hand down Loki’s arm in question, but he barely registered her touch, swallowing hard and staring wide eyed at Cyril’s packet, his head barely moving as he nodded agreement, signaling both to Sigyn that he was ok, and to Cyril that, yes, he very much wanted to see what was in that packet. Sigyn let her hand fall and turned to walk back to the house with Elli.

Inside, the two women remained silent for a long while, keeping busy, but hardly registering what it was they did —just waiting and listening. Occasionally the murmuring of the men’s voices outside would be punctuated by a percussive sound when Cyril felt the need for another of his endless supply of handkerchiefs, otherwise nothing, until the women ran out of busywork, and sat together staring into the fire, Sigyn playing cat’s cradle with a seidr thread while Elli dozed.

“Elli, I found out what I am.”

The older woman raised her eyebrow at that. “Have you now? I’ve had my own theories for ages, but nothing sure. What did you find out?”

“As it turns out, my grandfather is Surt.”

Elli chuckled at that. “Well that certainly explains a great deal. I wondered about the fires.”

“It does make a lot of sense, doesn’t it?”

“And what of the other side of the family?”

“That part is a little more difficult to explain. There seems to have been a bit of deus ex machina involved.”

“Oh — someone was messing with the fabric of things?”

“On one of his quests for knowledge, Odin traveled to the Well of Urd. He made a blood sacrifice of himself. Afterward, the Norns pulled his blood from the water and did something. And then gave the seed to the youngest of Surt’s daughters.”

“You are Odin’s child?” Elli clapped her hands and cackled wildly. “Oh my great goddess! How beautiful! The symmetry is perfect!” She actually stood and whooped with glee. “We must celebrate the irony of the universe, little one! How glorious! Oh I shall take such joy in hearing every detail of your next encounter with old one-eye! It is too sweet! Bastard that he is — you know he’s half giant himself, the execrable hypocrite!”

Sigyn smiled at Elli’s antics at first, but gradually grew more sober until the giantess finally settled a bit. Elli stopped celebrating and turned to face Sigyn directly with an empathetic look.

“Oh but, little one, it can’t have been easy for you to discover this, was it? I’m sorry. I will calm myself.” She took a deep breath and sat down once more. Then her eyes crinkled once more and she sniggered again before she finally contained herself, and put a hand on Sigyn’s knee. “Are you ok, little one?” Sigyn nodded. “And Loki? How did he take the news that he has been married to his sister all these years.”

“Elli!”

She snorted. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shall stop. It’s all as the Norns would have it, I’m sure, at least mostly. It never is exact, is it? We are always mucking about with their work.” Elli finally sobered. “But are you ok? It is much to take in, I’m sure.”

Sigyn shrugged. “I’m getting better. It’s hard not to be angry that he has any claim to any part of me. I don’t want him to be my father, thank you very much. But there you are. We control some things, and others we do not.”

“And Loki?”

“He seems to have taken the news better than I, actually. He has gleefully concocted a dozen ways to tell Thor that I’m his sister — all of which involve embarrassing references to Thor’s attempts to flirt with me when we were young.”

“I would love to see that!”

Just then, a sharp rap came at the front door.

“Who the Hel uses the front door?” Mumbled Sigyn as she peered carefully through the casement trying to see who it was before she answered.

“Elli!” came a voice from without. “Are you there, Elli! Goat’s piss, I’m sure she said this was the place. Elli?”

“I’m coming, Logi, keep your shoes on.”

Elli opened the door to her young cousin while Sigyn peered over her shoulder. But Logi didn’t bother trying to fit through the door. Instead, he delivered his message from the porch. “Elli, we have to know the plan. The dolls are moving and there are more of them than we thought. They will be here in a week at most.”

“Oh great goddess’s tits!” cried the old woman. “Sigyn, go out back and tell your husband.”

They were interrupted just then, however, by the great BOOM of the Bifrost opening up. Sigyn ran to the window just as the shouting started out back.

“Odin’s balls!” and she turned to run out the door. “It’s Thor! Piss. Did he have to show up just right now?!?

#fan fiction #Fallen Angels #Loki #Sigyn #logyn #MCU #Norse mythos #AU #stone giants can be big softies #who knew?