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bet-on-me-13 · 7 months

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The Structure of the Infinite Realms

This is an updated version of This old prompt I did a while back.

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So! The Infinite Realms are not just limited to the Afterlife. In fact, the Afterlife is just a single section of the Realms, and Each Realm is ruled over by their own Kingdom with their own Godly Rulers.

Lets give an Overview of a few of the Realms:

The Far Frozen: The Far Frozen is a Realm inhabited by Yeti's, who are Pacifists by nature. Their sole focus is to develop their medical practices so they can help as many people as possible. They are rules over by the Ice God, Frostbite, a kind and just King who uses his eons of experience to help those in need. The Far Frozen are well liked by all Kingdoms in the Infinite Realms, and have very few enemies.

The Medieval Isles: The Medieval Isles are a very recent addition to the Infinite Realms, and resembles the Earth Sterotype of a Fantasy Land. It is inhabited by many different races, from Elves to Dwarves to Humans. It was previously Ruled Over by a Draconic God known as the Tyrant King Aragon, before he was overthrown by his sister, the Kind Queen Dorathea with the help of a Sir Phantom. It does not have many Enemies among the Realms, but the Fae Wilds to seem to resent that some Elves live there as opposed to their original homeland.

Olympus: Olympus is the Realm of the Greek Gods, home to all the Gods who exist in the World and used to exist. It is ruled over by Zeus. It used to be a pretty major Political Powerhouse in the Realms, but after Ares went Rouge and killed most of their Top Gods, they lost a lot of Power.

Themyscira: After the Amazon's split off from the rest of Greece, they formed their own Kingdom with Hippolyta as the Godess Queen. It exists simultaneously in both the Realms and Earth. This Kingdom is well respected, but not as old or as large as some of the others. It has about the same Political Power as Olympus currently does, if not a little less.

The Nordic Lands: This is a Realm inhabited by the Norse Gods and all their peoples. It is not ruled over by a single Race of Gods, and is split into many different Warring Factions. One is the Aesir, Ruled over by King Odin. Another is the Vanir, formerly ruled over by Njord, but now ruled by his son Frey. There are also the Lands for the Fire and Ice Giants, and so on. They hold a good amount of Political Power in the Infinite Realms, but tend to stay Neutral in most cases.

New Genesis: This is the home of the New Gods, a race of Gods who is far younger than the others. They are ruled over by High Father, one of the surviving Old Gods, and the father of many of the New Gods. They are a fairly old and powerful Kingdom in the Realms, holding much Political Power.

Apokolips: This is a Realm filled with almost exclusively Demon's. It is ruled over by the God of Evil, Darkseid, and his Court of Minor Gods. It is an Extremely Agressive and even hostile Kingdom in the Realms, but holds itself back from attacking it's fellow Godly Kingdoms in fear of Retribution. They rarely interact with the other Kingdoms or discuss political matters in Meetings, but they are still a Kingdom not to be trifled with.

The Fae Wilds: This is the Realm that is the homeland of all Faeries and such creatures, like Elves and Gnomes. It is ruled over by the Fae Gods, Oberon and Titania, who use their cunning to obtain a good standing among the other Realms and maintain a good amount of Political Power.

The Spirit Lands: This is the Realm inhabited by mostly Nature Spirits, such as Nymphs and Fire Sprites. These lands are ruled over by 4 Elemental Kings, among which are Vortex and Undergrowth. These Lands are a sort of Middle Point in terms of Political Power, not too much but not too little. Although their image has been damaged by the Impulsive personalities of a few of their Rulers.

The Miracle Lands (Miraculous Ladybug): This is a Realm inhabited by a race of Gods that represent Conceptual Ideas, known as Kwami's. They are ruled over by the King and Queen of their Lands, Tikki and Plagg, the concepts of Creation and Destruction. The Miracle Lands are one of the oldest and most powerful of the Kingdoms of the Infinite Realms, and hold some of the most Political Power in the Infinite Realms.

The Ghost Zone/The After: This was what I really made this post to do. To explain my Headcanon for how the Ghost Zone worked in the grand scheme of things, the rest was just context.

The Ghost Zone is the collective Afterlife of all the other Realms, with Major Regions of the Realms dedicated to the different Kingdoms that hold a claim to the Afterlife.

There are Large Regions of the Realms dedicated to containing the Afterlives of the Godly Realms, like the Underworld for Olympus, or Valhalla/Vanaheim/Hel for the Nordic Lands. (The Norse actually have a shocking amount of Territory in the Ghost Zone, many joke that it's because Odin and Pariah Dark liked eachother due to how similar they looked.)

Each of the Regions is ruled over by that Pantheon's own God of the Dead/Death.

Hades rules the Underworld, and commands the different sections like the Fields of Asphodel, the Fields of Punishment, Elysium, and even Tartarus to some degree.

Plagg rules the Miraculous After (the Kwami's are not very creative with names). This is an Afterlife exclusive to the Holders of the Miraculous, as well as those who use Miracle Magic without having a Miraculous, like the Guardians. Also just the followers of the Kwami's (they have a small following)

The Norse have many Rulers for their many Afterlives. Hel rules over Hel, Freya rules over Vanaheim, Odin rules over Valhalla, and even Rán has her own tiny section for drowned souls. Plus a few more small sections.

The Acropolis is the Personal Afterlife for the Amazonians, and only answers to the Queendom of Themyscira. Pandora was chosen as the new Goddess of Afterlife when this was decided, and Acsended to Minor Godhood.

And there are many more, too many to list.

All the Rulers of the Afterlives defer to the Ruler of the Ghost Zone, who holds the most Power among the Gods of Death, as basically their Landlord. That used to be Pariah Dark, but after he went insane and had to be sealed away, the Ghost Zone fell mostly to Anarchy.

While the Afterlives managed to maintain stability due to having their own Rulers, the large regions between the Afterlives did not, and Rouge Spirts began to stake their claims to small plots of Land called Haunts. The most common among these were Ghosts, but there were some Fae, Spirits, and some smaller Gods (for some reason, some of the Kings of the Spirit Lands liked to use this Area as a playground to do whatever they wanted with no consequences).

It took Millennia, but eventually Pariah Dark was released from his Prison and then Usurped by a Young Godling named Phantom. Phantom then proceeded to bring the Realms under control, maintaining a few of the newer customs thay had appeared in the wake of Pariah's Imprisoning like Claiming Haunts, but otherwise ending the Era of Anarchy in the Realms.

The Ghost Zone is the Oldest, and most Powerful of the Kingdoms of the Infinite Realms. It holds Extreme Political Power, and has the favor of many different Realms. It's hard to not have that when you are an integral part of the Balance of the Godly World.

Thoughts?

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sheliesshattered · 6 months

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Sylki fic: When She Sings She Sings Come Home

Loki/Sylvie, 3200 words. Post s02e06 fix-it, angst with a happy ending. Also available on AO3 under the same title and username.

When She Sings She Sings Come Home

Sylvie wakes with Loki’s voice in her ears.

It’s been months since she last saw him, striding out to the Loom to save the timelines. Winter has come and gone, here in this little corner of a branch that she’s made her home. Every day that’s passed, she’s half expected to turn around and see him standing there, like that night he appeared in the parking lot next to her truck. But for months, there’s been nothing but the absence of him, growing larger and more crystalline every day.

She wakes with his voice in her ears, singing that ridiculous song from the train on Lamentis.

To Sylvie, everybody! he’d said, grinning at her, not drunk only too full. She would give anything to see him smile like that again. She would give anything to see him again.

And it isn’t that she hasn’t looked. Of course she had. She’d barely gotten through a single shift at McDonald’s after leaving Mobius standing outside his variant’s house before she’d used He Who Remain’s TemPad to try to find Loki.

He wasn’t dead. She knows he isn’t dead. But he also isn’t anywhere. There are an infinite number of branches now, layers of reality twisting around each other into something larger, a shape she can almost see, almost recognize. But Loki isn’t on any of them. No matter where she searches, he remains just outside her grasp.

Sylvie goes to work, she drives her truck home, she listens to music at the record store, she checks in on Mobius, she tries to sleep. But everywhere is marked by Loki’s absence, and every moment is overlaid with the sound of him singing.

She can’t find Loki, but that song is a thread she can pull at. Where did he learn it? The words were almost Asgardian, but not quite. Something similar, a branch of the original. A variant. Because of course it was.

It’s not until she thinks to quietly spy on the New Asgard settlement in Norway, forty years on from her quiet life in Oklahoma, that she hears the language again. Norwegian.

Remember this place, she hears Odin say, in a memory that is not hers, rippling through the interwoven timelines because it is what she needs in this moment. Home.

She turns her back on New Asgard, on the man who is almost but not quite her brother, on the Valkyrie who will come to lead their people like the hero out of a saga that Sylvie had once wished she could become. She turns her back, and walks into this strange, beautiful land. Norway. One tiny place on one tiny planet in one insignificant branch of the ever-growing tree of time, where the syllables are shaped into words that resonate with Loki’s voice from so long ago.

Sylvie wanders into pubs, into taverns, into bars, into concerts. She hums the few notes that never leave her head, and hopes to find someone who knows the song.

Until, miraculously, one day, she does.

“It’s an old drinking song,” the bearded man at the bar tells her, gesturing with his beer. “It’s about taking the long way home, but knowing you’ll get there in the end.”

“Can you teach it to me?” Sylvie asks, unblinking, gaze trained on the stranger’s face.

“For that, I will need a lot more beer.”

So she buys him beers. She coaxes the song out of him. She buys rounds for the whole bar, until they are all singing it. They teach her the words in Norwegian, teach her to shape the vowels as carefully as any incantation, and then teach her the meaning behind the words.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair

and sings, “When will you come home?”

“You, I think,” her drunk bearded acquaintance says to her, “you are the maiden fair.”

“And what if I am?” Sylvie asks, raising her chin, still dead-sober despite the bourbon clutched in her hand.

“Then you must sing for him to come home!”

“From an apple orchard, if you can manage it,” leers his friend next to him.

“Will it work?” she hears herself say.

“Of course it will work! Music is magic. Galdr, they used to call it, in the old religion. The power of your voice to shape reality.” The man is drunk, but his words tug at something in Sylvie’s memory, long buried. “Sing, and he will come home.”

“As simple as that?”

The bearded man laughs uproariously. “When has love ever been simple?” he demands jovially. “When has magic ever been easy? But that does not mean it is not worth trying. There is beauty in the trying. There is love in the longing.” He’s slurring his words, barely managing to stay atop his barstool.

But he’s not wrong.

I know what kind of god I need to be, Loki had said, tears shining in his eyes. For you. For all of us.

But Sylvie is a god, too, she reminds herself, as she tosses back her bourbon and turns her back on the little Norwegian town, with the northern lights rippling over head. She’s not the goddess of chaos anymore, and she hasn’t felt mischievous since she was a child.

But the goddess of galdr, yes, that perhaps is something she could be.

She returns to her little Oklahoma town, cloud cover obliterating the stars, and drives her truck to the record store. There’s only one song she wants to hear, only one voice to sing it, but music has been her comfort since she came to this place, and she cannot simply become the goddess of music-turned-into-magic because she wishes it to be so. Music has been her shield, her cocoon, her comfort these long lonely months. Now she must learn to form it into other shapes, into weapons and tools. Into a lighthouse, shining out into the vast dark of the multiverse.

She taught herself enchantment, while running for her life from one apocalypse to the next. She can teach herself galdr in this quiet little record shop in this quiet little town.

Sylvie slides the headphones into place, and lets the music move through her.

Oh, sweet nothin'

She ain't got nothin' at all

Oh, sweet nothin'

She ain't got nothin' at all

But what if she had something? What if she had the one person who would make all of this worth it?

I know what kind of god I need to be, she tells herself. For you, Loki.

She murmurs the words along with the music, infusing them with intent, with magic.

And for one fraction of an instant, she can see him.

He’s alone, on the throne he never wanted, surrounded by the threads of the multiverse, pulsing green as they grow and twist. There is nothing, nothing else, only Loki alone in that vast emptiness, in that expanse of everything that ever was or ever could be.

His eyes are dull, unfocused, far away. And then— a flicker of recognition, a spark of life—

Sylvie loses the connection.

She’s alone on the sofa in the back of the record shop, with Lou Reed singing in her ears.

He ain’t got nothing at all

She drives home. She tries to sleep. She keeps hearing Loki’s voice, keeps seeing him alone in that emptiness. She murmurs into the darkness— not quite a song, not quite a spell—

But trees dance and waterfalls stop

When she sings, she sings “come home”

There is a shape to the enormity of what Loki has done. There is an order to the way the branches of the multiverse wrap around each other. It is just outside her grasp, but Sylvie feels that if she could just see the shape of it, she might understand.

She might be able to reach him.

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone she whispers to the emptiness of her tiny apartment, in this tiny town, in this little branch of a timeline, one miniscule part of a greater whole, and falls asleep dreaming of trees dancing, of waterfalls stopping, of Loki taking her outside the flow of time to tell her that there was no other way to keep her safe.

Sylvie wakes with her own voice in her ears.

The song is coursing through her, jeg saler min ganger, and she can feel the magic at her fingertips, on the tip of her tongue, pushing at the insides of her ribs, swelling her lungs and begging to be released.

I know what kind of god I need to be.

She gets into her truck and drives. North and east, away from everything she knows, vaguely towards those northern lights dancing over the fjords, too far away to reach on roads such as these.

But once upon a time, when she was very young, there was another road. A rainbow road, the Bifrost, that could take her anywhere just like magic.

Every bit of magic she has now she has taught herself. And this, too, this song swelling in her chest, is magic of her own making.

There is beauty in the trying. There is love in the longing.

She drives past fields of wheat and fields of corn, through days and nights, with the glare of the sun or the pattering of the rain against the windshield. Sylvie drives and drives and drives, and keeps the song tucked away inside her, growing in fury like a hurricane in a bottle, like the storm that had raged outside the night they met.

She drives until the scent of apples wafts through the open windows of the truck, and then she pulls over, knowing this was her destination all along.

Iðunn, a childhood memory whispers, too long ago now to have any meaning at all. The apples of eternity.

Home she thinks, and then hears, from a memory not her own:

Asgard’s not a place, it’s a people.

This could be Asgard. Asgard is where our people stand.

Her brother’s voice. The voice of the man who had once raised her as his daughter. The family she lost and can never regain, no matter what shape the multiverse twists itself into. Words reaching across time, across branching timelines, to reach her here and now, because it is what she needs to hear.

Sylvie climbs out of her truck and walks into the apple orchard and doesn’t look back.

She walks until she can no longer see the road from between the trunks and branches. She walks until there is nothing but the smell of apples, the soil under foot, and the sky over head. She walks until the song finally bursts out of her, all of her desperation and loneliness flooding out of her lungs to shake the very air around her, in the shape of words that are his but also hers, now.

But trees dance and waterfalls stop

When she sings, she sings “come home”

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair

and sings, “When will you come home?”

But trees dance and waterfalls stop

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home!”

And then he is there, standing beside her in the sunshine and the scent of the apple orchard. Loki glances around at the trees dancing in the wind, his eyes bright, before his gaze snaps to hers.

“You’re here,” Sylvie croaks, her voice burned through with the force of the magic that poured out of her, the magic that’s brought Loki to her.

“No, not really,” he says, his eyes never still as they trace over her face. “I’m still there too. I’m sort of everywhere, really. It’s hard to explain.”

“Help me to understand,” she says before the words even have the chance to fade away. “You said you knew what kind of god you needed to be. You saved us, you saved everything, and then you disappeared. Make me understand.”

“I can’t, Sylvie,” Loki says gently, and there is a sorrow in his eyes deeper than oceans, more boundless than the vastness of space. “It’s been centuries for me. Lifetimes. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

Enchant me, he had begged her once, standing in the McDonald’s parking lot in his ridiculous TVA uniform. You can see what I saw.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she tells him, raising her hands slowly towards his face, green magic flickering between her fingers. “Just let me see what you saw.”

“Sylvie,” he starts, and there are tears in his eyes again, like there were in that last moment before he turned his back on her to destroy the Loom.

“We’re the same, remember?” she says, and if her voice cracks it is only because of the abuse it’s suffered, only because of the magic that poured out through her vocal chords to shape reality to her desires. “You shouldn’t have to bear this burden alone, Loki,” she tells him, with as much tenderness as she can force into her ruined voice. “Let me understand.”

“It was the only way,” he says, as if in warning, but Sylvie cups his face in her hands before the tears can fall from his eyes.

Centuries. Lifetimes. The same day, over and over again. Reality unspooling, starting with Victor Timely and ending with her, again and again. Their fight in the Citadel at the end of time, relived hundreds of times, always with the same ending. Always the death of He Who Remains, and the unraveling of everything, failure after failure after failure.

And yet in all of them, she does not kiss him. And he cannot bring himself to kill her. Until only one choice remains.

I know what kind of god I need to be. For you.

Sylvie watches in Loki’s memory as the temporal radiation burns away his TVA uniform, as his magic replaces it with something older, something primal, something true. She watches as he grasps the decaying branches of the multiverse and breathes life into them, wills them to live, to be whole and part of a whole.

She watches as the branches twist around each other, each variation of the timeline finding support in its neighbors, building into something greater than the sum of every moment of every timeline that has ever existed.

She sees the shape of what Loki has done, the enormous, infinite tree dancing in the nothingness outside of time. Yggdrasil, the worldstree, green and glowing, alive and growing, all because Loki willed it so. To restore freewill and safeguard it forever. For all of us.

His hands cover hers and Loki gently pries her fingers away from his face. “Enough, Sylvie. Enough. I know what I’ve done.”

There are tears on her face, the apple-scented wind plucking at the wetness as she stands there, staring at Loki. Even without the enchantment, she can see him sitting on his throne, alone but for the infinite tree he tends.

“It was the only way?” she asks in the ruins of her voice. It is only when he folds his hands around hers that she realizes she is shaking, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Not like dancing. Like shattering, collapsing in on herself with the weight of what he’s done.

“No,” Loki admits. “There was one other way. I could have left He Who Remains in charge. I could have let the TVA go back to pruning the timelines. But I would have had to kill you. I would have had to kill you with my own hands, and watch as you died, and then betray everything you ever believed in. I lived every variation of every action I could possibly change, but not that one. Not that.”

“You don’t even know me,” Sylvie blurts out before the words have fully formed in her mind. All of this, to save her? She cannot, she cannot—

Loki’s expressive face twists, stung by her words, hurt in this moment even beyond the deep sorrow that he wears like a cloak. “Of course I know you,” he says, wounded, his gaze searching her face. “Like I’ve never known anyone. Sylvie, I lov—”

She surges up onto her toes and kisses him, there among the apple trees. She kisses him for what he’s done, for what he refused to do. She kisses him for the loneliness they have both known far too much of, she kisses him for coming when she sang for him to come home. She kisses him because there is nothing else she can do, because there was never any other way for her, either.

And Loki kisses her in return, with a desperation borne of years, centuries, lifetimes of facing this alone. He kisses her in the apple garden, as the trees dance and the waterfalls stand still. He is there, kissing her, but also somewhere else, far away and outside time, tending to the tree that he gave his life to save.

“I can’t stay,” he says when they finally part, pressing his forehead to hers, his hands cupping her jaw in an echo of how she had enchanted him moments before. “I want to stay, more than anything, Sylvie, but I can’t, I can’t.”

“I know,” she assures him, even as she clutches at his robes for fear he will disappear at any moment. “I know you can’t stay here with me,” she says, then takes a deep breath to steady her ragged voice, her thundering heart. “But you don’t have to be alone.”

Loki pulls away abruptly, only far enough to see her face, confusion pinching his features.

“We’re gods, you said,” Sylvie explains, tripping over her words, her voice trembling with the weight of what she has already done, the weight of what she plans to do. “We have a responsibility. That’s what you told me, in that ridiculous room full of pie. We can’t just give everyone freewill and then walk away.” She offers him a small smile, the best she can summon at the current moment. “You have to sustain Yggdrasil. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I did this for you,” he says, holding on to her as desperately as she is clutching at him. “So you could have a life. That’s what you said you wanted, to live.”

“It’s freewill, Loki,” she says, shaking her head. “You can’t just give it to everyone and then be surprised when I use it to choose to be with you. I know what kind of god I need to be. You taught me that. I won’t let you bear this burden alone. That’s the kind of god I choose to be.”

“I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me—”

“The only sacrifice would be giving you up.”

He gazes at her for a long moment, his uncertainty slowly transforming, then sings softly, “I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene,” and this time Sylvie understands the words. “Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem. I eplehagen står møyen den vene, og synger: ‘når kommer du hjem?’”

The apple orchard dissolves around them, replaced by the rippling greens and blues and purples of Yggdrasil, shimmering in the darkness outside of time.

“Home,” Sylvie says, and kisses him again.

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classickook · 2 years

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how about forever? | loki odinson

pairing: loki odinson x asgardian!fem!reader

summary: when loki miraculously shows up after faking his death, you’re not too happy to see him. (takes place around ragnarok’s timeline.)

warnings: angst with fluff, some swearing, mentions of death

word count: 2.1k

a/n: why do i keep writing random oneshots instead of working on my main series lol 🙃 also this is my first loki fic so i hope it’s somewhat decent?

asgard had always been blessed with perfect weather: greenery all around and blue skies for miles, the golden landscapes reflecting the gilded sunlight’s rays in unlimited warmth and comfort; however, today seemed to be exceptionally more beautiful than usual. the flowers smelled a bit sweeter and the birds overhead flew by with increased vigor.

something was noticeably different in the air, but you couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

a slew of asgardians were gathered about the courtyard, enjoying a performance of sorts to celebrate the gods as food and drink were passed around, and joyous energy and laughter were shared. it was a good day, especially for you, and you were staring to feel happy for once in quite a long time.

that is, until the familiar green and gold garb of a certain god crept into your peripheral. your face felt hot as hurt and anger washed over you upon realizing that the view before you was not an illusion or a figment of your imagination.

“you lying piece of shit,” you seethed, shoving at his hard chest and feeling pleased that he stumbled back a step. “you had me thinking you were dead!”

“with all due respect, darling—” loki started but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t call me that,” you warned, poison dripping off your tongue. “is this a joke to you, oh, great god of mischief?“ you asked sarcastically.

silence fell upon the courtyard, including the performance up front that was now on pause, as you dug into odin’s infamous son with pure hatred and spite, like a predator feasting upon its kill.

you walked toward him with fire in your eyes, burning him with your stare. he stepped back as you approached, his hands raised in surrender, until you practically backed him into a corner. “how dare you,” you said through gritted teeth. “how dare you manipulate your abilities for some sick, twisted joke like this. as you can clearly see, i’m not laughing.”

“i know. i know,” he said as he carefully lowered his hands back down to his sides as if he were afraid you would lash out at him for moving. “and i’m sorry, i am. i know that’s not enough for what i did, but i can explain everything.”

“explain what? that this was another one of your little schemes to manipulate those around you? to have us mourn your death for nothing just so you could get a little kick out of deceiving all of asgard?” you scoffed. “you make me sick.”

“i know,” he repeated desperately, brows pinching together over his blue eyes that seemed almost vulnerable, glossy. “it was wrong of me and i realize that now. just let me expl—”

“no,” you said firmly, pointing an index finger into his chest. “you shut your mouth, laufeyson.”

he flinched slightly at your tone and the use of his true surname, the remaining ties to his hidden form always clinging to him no matter how hard he tried to bury that part of himself. you should’ve felt bad, you knew that, but you were far too angry with him to sympathize or be reasonable.

“i don’t want to hear it. just leave me alone—for good this time.” you turned on your heel and stormed off, leaving loki behind in a sea of silent and confused onlookers to stare after your retreating form. if you had glanced back for even a moment, you would have seen the shadow of sorrow and guilt that crossed the god’s features over his actions and how much they had hurt you. but you didn’t. it took everything in you to not turn around.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you made the trek back to your quarters, slamming the gilded door shut and dropping to your bed with a broken sigh. now in the privacy of your room, you could let the façade melt away to reveal the heartbroken girl that was hiding just beneath the surface.

you had missed him without a doubt, but he didn’t need to know that. the god of mischief didn’t need to become aware of your feelings for him and how distraught you were upon word of his death, going about your daily life afterwards with that pinching sorrow niggling in your chest no matter how hard you tried to tamp it down.

you loved him. foolish of you, really, to be drawn to someone so deceiving and untrustworthy, yet somehow you grew rather fond of him over the years. he always managed to make you laugh and his countless tricks between boring lessons were always the highlight of your day, but this—this was taking things too far. it was disgusting and unforgivable for him to lead you on like that just to fake his death in a display of his unmatched power.

all those months of sleeping in an old shirt of his until the scent of him was no longer present, cuddling against his pillow and hoping he would visit your dreams—anything for just a tiny, fleeting remembrance of him to get you through each day of your mourning period.

it turned out that all of those tears and moments locked away in your room were for nothing. you felt like such a fool; he had made you feel like this.

humiliation washed over you as your varying stages of grief settled in and you realized that, more than anything, you were just sad. angry at first, but now… it was like your heartbreak from before was repeating itself all over again, like you could never fully rid yourself of his memory or his impact on your life, whether dead or alive.

your head dropped into your hands as you cried over him for the nth time. god, how stupid could you possibly be? only you would fall for the god of mischief and grieve for him like a lovesick girl, all naive and juvenile with your feelings.

a small whimper passed your lips as you fell back on the bed, your head meeting the plush of your silk pillow and allowing the familiar comfort of it to soothe you.

you hugged your arms against yourself and closed your eyes, hoping that sleep would take you just for a little while, just a few peaceful moments of escape from this feeling that you just couldn’t move past, no matter how hard you tried.

as your tense limbs finally relaxed and sleep welcomed you in its blissful arms, you heard a faint knock sound against your door. it could only be one person, one god who you dreaded to see more than anything else. why couldn’t you have fallen asleep already? why couldn’t you avoid this confrontation with the man who stole your heart and died along with it.

the knock sounded again, a bit louder this time, and you rolled over in bed to stare at the wall with your back facing the door. “go away,” you said, hating how your voice cracked, drawing attention to your dismay as you wept in the privacy of your room. not so private now, it seemed.

“please, darling,” the voice asked quietly yet it traveled its way over to you as if the speaker was right by your ear. “please let me in.”

you bit your lip until the taste of iron flooded your mouth. you wanted to scream or cry or fling your pillow at his face, but instead, you offered a weak, “come in.”

the door clicked open followed by hesitant footsteps against the floorboards. you refused to face loki, choosing to remain facing the wall as the saltiness of your tears dried on your cheeks.

“may i sit?” he asked softly.

“…fine.”

the rustling of fabric met your ears as loki sat on top of the covers along the edge of your bed, keeping enough distance between your bodies to be considered appropriate. then, a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, his thumb stroking you through the thin material of your gown in soothing motions meant to offer some semblance of comfort. it only made you want to cry more. oh, how you had missed his touch; just being in his presence like this was enough to capture the breath from your lungs in a vice-like grip.

“do i really mean so little to you?” you asked suddenly.

his hand stilled. “what? no! no, of course not. darling, look at me please,” he requested as he coaxed you onto your back so he could see you fully. you complied and felt a sort of dread settle in your stomach at the way his face fell upon seeing your wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.

“oh, y/n,” he breathed, brows knitted in genuine confusion and concern. “why would you think that?”

“because you left me. you had me to believe you were dead,” you replied quietly with a slight shrug. “where were you all this time and why didn’t you come back sooner?” your voice raised gradually as each question left your lips; exasperation over what he had done and desperation for some sort of answer evident in your tone.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know,” he repeated again and again, voice clogged with tears as his guilt multiplied, “and you have every right to be furious with me, but i’ll explain everything to you, i promise. there’s so much i need to tell you, and i will. i’m not going anywhere now. i’m not leaving you again.”

“you don’t even realize what that did to me, do you?”

his eyes squeezed shut and you noticed a tear sliding passed his closed lids, trickling down his pale cheek to collect along his sharp jawline. you hesitantly reached up to wipe it away with the pad of your thumb, deciding to stay there a moment longer as you gently cradled his chin in your palm. loki’s own hand raised to rest against yours, slender fingers intertwining as he tilted his head enough to press a soft kiss to your palm.

“i really am sorry,” he whispered, breath warm against your skin.

you sniffled lightly before retracting your hand from his grasp, ignoring the small noise of surprise that rose in his throat as you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and leaned forward to rest your head on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist in a lover’s embrace.

“i missed you,” you muttered into the familiar green and gold material of his clothing.

his head lowered to rest his cheek against your hair, pressing a soft kiss there as he held you close. “you have no idea how much i missed you, darling. i’m sorry i didn’t come back sooner. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, and i’m sorry you had to suffer on account of my actions.”

you nuzzled against him, allowing yourself to relax and release all of your anger and sorrow and rage as he held you. after all this time, you finally felt like you could breathe, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could see the world clearly again.

“i’ll make it up to you, i swear it,” he whispered fiercely. “and even then, if you’re still furious with me, i’ll understand and i’ll leave you alone for good… like you wanted.”

you sat back and lifted your head to meet his gaze, eyes just as glossy as yours probably were. “i’ll let you explain, loki. i’ll give you that chance, but if you ever do something like that to me again, if you deceive me in any way, as the god of mischief or as loki odinson, i’m done. do you understand?”

he nodded quickly as if scolded, which he essentially was, and raised his hands to your cheeks, his palms cool against your heated skin. “i understand. i’m not betraying your trust ever again, you have my word.”

your lips twitched slightly as a small smile threatened to break through. “for now, though… could you just hold me for a while?”

his cheeks pulled up in a sweet smile, eyes crinkling at the corners in pure relief. this was his second chance and he wasn’t about to fuck it up. not with you, not this time.

“absolutely,” he replied, tugging you back against his chest and lowering the two of you onto the bed, his arm wrapped snuggly around your waist. “i’m here for as long as you want me.”

you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him that you had missed so much, the real thing in front of you rather than an old shirt or pillowcase. a genuine smile stretched across your lips at having him in your arms again, the reminder of your heartbreak temporarily shoved to the back of your mind as you relished in his presence.

“how about forever?” you asked.

you practically heard the smile in his voice as he answered, “sounds good to me, darling.”

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hannahfirefly5 · 5 days

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Fanfic recommandation : Asgardian Galdr

Status : finished

Words : 479 713

Summary :

What if Loki was able to warn his past self, so he did not lose control during his regency and was able to act as he normally would ? What if he had been able to remain calm and in control of himself, and the situation ?

"How?" Loki demanded.

"Betrayal," his future self stated simply, rage clear in every syllable. "But you must control your reaction and come to see me, or you will repeat my mistakes and we will miss an opportunity to take control and alter things in our favor."

It would have changed everything.

***

This is one of the best stories I have ever read ! The author did an amazing job and I can only recommend it for the rest of my life !!

It's a canon divergence that picks up the events of the first film where Loki miraculously rewrites his story. Thanks to the information given by his future self, Loki can finally show his true value as a king. Between betrayals and politics, the universe is so in-depth that it becomes absolutely fascinating !

In addition, family takes a central place in the story. Despite conflicts and communication problems, they all love each other deeply. It's refreshing to not have Odin as the big bad guy for once.

Loki's self-acceptance for his species and his abilities is also developed just right. He learns to stop letting himself be walked on and finally uses his intelligence to bring respect and admiration. There is still a way to go because of his doubts and the events that happened but healing is coming little by little.

A masterpiece !!

Maybe there will be an other part in the futur !

#archive of our own #ao3 #writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #fanfic recommendation

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multiverse-imagines · 1 year

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I think about if I was vash travel buddy I would probably annoy him(or be entertaining) cause we just be walking In the desert and he’s like 🚶‍♂️and I’m like 💃 behind him cause I listening to 2000s pop music on an old iPhone that still miraculously works, just dancing to Beyoncé and one direction. Or tell him old mythological stories of gods and beasts and hero’s by the campfire. I probably be good entertainment for him.

A/N: Okay, I'm dying at this concept! I'm totally gonna make it a 160GB ipod Classic tho. It has a screen for video, and soooo much more space than a dinky old iPhone xD durable af too. I miss mine ;-; I'll probably increase the era of songs as well, because I'd be right there with you doing the same damn thing!

Lost Melodies

"Gonna make a move to a town that's right for me!" Vash watched you dance alongside him to the music playing through the headphones of your family's iPod, which had been passed down since before the space fahring age. You sang little "doots" to the electronic melody as the town you left behind disappeared from the horizon.

"Town to keep me movin' keep me groovin with some energy" the smile on Vash's face widened as you raised your hands up to chest height, "Well I talk about it, talk about it, talk about it, talk about it." You opened and closed your hands as if they were talking, "talk about, talk about, talk about mo-ooovin'!" You grooved, "Gotta move on!" You had shared this music with Vash before, as the two of you had taken turns listening to music on your iPod, and Vash's Walkman.

"A-Won't you take me to… FUNKY TOOOOOWN!" You belted out into the vastness of the desert. Vash loved it when you got lost in the music when your little group had to travel on foot through the desert. Granted, this caused you to drink more water than without the additional singing, but you had bought a second canteen so you had enough water to stay hydrated.

Wolfwood and Milly also found your little concerts entertaining, Meryl…. She had her limits. She was more interested in the Audiobooks of various Mythology the little iPod contained. Vash recalled a night where the five of you relaxed around a campfire, an Audio book of Norwegian Mythology playing through a speaker through the audio jack. It told stories of Gods that were long forgotten to Gunsmoke.

"Fair enough,” said Thor. “What’s the price?” “Freya’s hand in marriage.” “He just wants her hand?” asked Thor hopefully. She had two hands, after all, and might be persuaded to give up one of them without too much of an argument. Tyr had, after all. “All of her,” said Loki. “He wants to marry her.” “Oh,” said Thor. “She won't like that."

They listened to the story of the fortification of Asgard. He remembered the look of horror on Wolfwood and Meryl's face when the origin of Slepnir was mentioned. He remembered the cackle that erupted from your lips, knowing another mind was ruined by the fact that The All Father, Odin, rode his own nephew into battle.

"Your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky. They wipe away tears that I cry…" he tuned in long enough to hear you'd changed songs, and he caught your glance towards him at the lyrics. The blush on your face made you stutter the next lyrics, but he smiled sweetly towards you.

It was late In the evening when the two of you entered Warrens City. Vash needed another tune up from Mr. Marlon. Thankfully, your journey had been smooth sailing, and you two were soon cuddled up in their shared bed, sharing the earbuds as they watched a movie on the tiny screen.

"What do you have hidden in your pocket, Sophie?" The blonde man on the screen asked. The old woman, Sophie took a red piece of paper out of her pocket, and handed it to Howl. As the paper met with his fingertips, the paper caught fire, burning a carving into the table.

"Woah, scorch marks! Howl, can you read them?" Markle, the apprentice, asked.

"This is ancient sorcery." He mused while he caressed the table outside of the scorch marks.

"You who swallowed a falling star, O' heartless man, your heart shall soon be mine. That can't be good for the table." He shook his head.

"Ugh, this movie is so pretty." You mused, and you let your head rest on Vash's shoulder.

"It really is. I wish we had more than just this movie from that animation studio." Vash leaned his head against yours, a sweet smile across his face.

One night after Vash had gotten his gun back, You, Vash and Frank went for a drink at the bar. Frank insisted on a single drink, and Vash of course went overboard.

"Hey! Vash tells me you play the guitar. Why don't you play something for open mic night?" Frank gentured over to the little stage in the corner. An acoustic guitar sat in a stand, the bar's logo painted on the front.

After some thought, you agreed, and went over to the stage. You picked up the guitar, checking to see if it was tuned, and adjusting the microphone so you could be heard while sitting on a barstool. You strummed the guitar, as you sang the opening pitches before faking a throat clear,

"Hey baby won't you look my way? I can be your new addiction. Hey baby whatcha gotta say, all you're giving me is fiction." You sang, getting the attention of the bar,

"I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time, but I find out that everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks." You glanced over to Vash who was already enamored by your performance, pausing mid-chat with the newly arrived insurance girls,

"it started with a whispeerrrrr, and that was when I kissed herrrrrr. And then she made my lips huuuurrt. I could hear the chit chaaaaaat. Take me to your love shaaaack. Mama's always gotta back traaaaack , when everybody talks baaack!" Your voice gave a lovely vibrato to every long note.

You concentrated on singing for Vash, something you always did when you got nervous about singing around other people. Once your brain believed it was just the two of you, you could sway to the beat, and really let loose on your vocals. You loved spreading the power of music to the people of Gunsmoke, since you held such a rare and precious outer of music long gone.

It often made you wonder about the songs that didn't make it into this device. What genre were they? What did they sound like? You guessed unless you got a time machine that you would never know. You were thankful for what you did have, because you didn't know how the people of Gunsmoke lived without it.

End~

Songs used:

Funky town- Lipps Inc.

Every time we touch- Cascada

Everybody talks- Neon Trees

Audio books:

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

Movie:

Howl's Moving Castle

#trigun #vash the stampede #trigun brain rot #vash x reader #music fic

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boundless-iridescence · 23 days

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Open Starter | Muse: Loki

He was on Midgard...again...and he couldn't be anymore frustrated. But Loki was no fool. He would have to scatter his tracks, his energy, his presence, and make use of the protection of certain powers and presences where he could. He would move on to the next planet and next galaxy that fit him best, but for now...he would have to recover further.

He'd left so soon, after crippling the Allfather and leaving it between the man shaken by loss and emotional and mental distress struggling to understand whether he was to stay or leave his kingdom behind given how useless he'd become and if he was to leave it to council members to take care of until Thor's next return, or if he might give a final effort before his years run out. Loki could stay there no longer, except to exact his karma upon Odin, and he'd endure at least half the pain for some of it--memory magic and magic of the mind were useful, but seeing those flashing of his mother...seeing her lying there, in Odin's memory, had almost been too much to bear.

Now, Loki settled in corners of 'Earth' recovering the rest of his festering wound. His miraculous survival after his sacrifice against Kurse had been a blessing, perhaps, but his weakened body and the fevers and illness he was still working on breaking seemed to be paying him back to balance the scales.

Loki could only hope his cloaking magic would keep steady for as long as he needed it. For the time being, he wandered a countryside he couldn't be bothered to figure the name of as of yet. He'd managed to magic more earthling clothing so as not to alert passerbys, but he still avoided masses and cities, lest his unaltered features alarm anyone.

He would find ways to make or acquire mortal money, to make his way easier within this realm, but for now, he couldn't waste his energy. Most of it was focused on healing himself and cloaking against any prying magic, from foe or anyone else. And so, his option was a 'promising' abandoned warehouse, one that didn't seem as if it had had much use in many years. He would settle there, make his comings and goings as he gathered sustenance and anything else he could make use of during his stay here. It was well out of the way from any attention of the mortals.

Or so he thought.

When he saw more cares passing on the nearest road in his walks around the area, and heard at least two different air crafts in the span of a few days, which he had not heard at all since he arrived, his instinct was clear; he'd been reported. It was time to pack up and get moving.

And he was just managing to do so, stowing what he'd collected in a pocket dimension to secure it for travel, and taking his leave of the warehouse. But of course, he exited to see a figure standing there waiting for him, and he sighed.

"...And just who has come to collect me now...? Last I heard the honorable SHIELD isn't quite the authority it used to be... Who do you work for now?"

#loki laufeyson #mcu #marvel #loki rp #mcu rp #marvel rp #open starter

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ancientcraftnoccultism · 2 years

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🌿 Herb Of The Day

Title: Acorn

Gender: Masculine

Element: Fire

Planet: Sun

📜 Folklore & History 📜

The acorns are beginning to fall. They have a long history of use by witches as sacred and magical implements, and the ancient Celts valued them much along with their druid priests. Acorns represent the miracle of rebirth, and oaks are considered sacred by druids. Acorns are also mentioned in numerous tales and traditions, including those of Native Americans and the Nordic culture. The druids, according to Witchipedia, see acorns as a symbol of magic. Acorns were employed in various rites and customs, such as the Samhain Sabbath, in the oldest traditions.

During the witch hunts, it was customary to deliver an acorn to other witches to let them know you were one. I've gathered a lot, some of which I'll use to make altar wreaths and some of which I'll save in my pocket to give to other witches. I enjoy the concept of smiling and handing out acorns to others.

According to accounts of old English tales, acorns originally had significance in the world of witchcraft and magic. At a time when Celtic witches had to brew potions and cast charms in the shadows, it is thought that witches would exchange acorns in the woods to identify each other and to let the other know that they were in safe company, much like Christians the symbol of the Icthys.

In Greek mythology, the oak was a sacred tree associated with Zeus, the supreme god. To this day, Zeus’s oracle in Epirus has the sacred oak in the middle of the grove, and priests would try to uncover messages from the gods by interpreting the rustling of the oak’s leaves.

Norse mythology has its own history with the acorns. Tall oaks attracted lightning, and so the tree was thought to be sacred to Thor, the god of lightning. After riding out storms, druids would come and collect acorns, which were always miraculously spared from the god’s wrath.

With this legend in mind, Scandinavians would usually put an acorn on the windowsill whenever a huge storm would blow, as a gesture of respect to Thor, and to ask protection from destructive lightning. Of course, these were in the ancient days when people believed that lightning enters one’s home through the window.

Another Norse legend has it that the god, Odin, picked an oak tree to hang himself from, so he could gain the tree’s aged wisdom.

Indeed, some oak trees can live up to a thousand years old, and it’s both fascinating and amazing to think that such a strong, stable and old tree could spring up from a lowly little acorn. This is where the proverb great oaks from little acorns grow comes from to signify that great things can emerge from small and humble beginnings.

While other cultures content themselves with carrying acorns or using them as ornaments in order to recreate the wonderful legends of how oak trees carry the good graces of gods and witches, other cultures consume acorns both as a standalone delicacy and a tasty ingredient to more complex meals.

The first to do this were the druids, who believed that the fruit of the mighty oak tree contained prophetic qualities. In fact, historians are of the opinion that the word ‘druid’ literally comes from the Celtic word for acorn.

🔮 Metaphysical Properties

To harness the protective magickal properties of oak and acorns, tie 2 oak twigs into a cross with red thread and hang it in the home or wherever you need protection. This is a strong protective amulet and will keep any malevolent energy and negativity at bay. Placing acorns on window sills will help to keep lightning away from your home while carrying a piece of oak wood will protect your person from harm while also drawing luck to you.

Planting an acorn on the night of the new moon will ensure that abundance will grow in your life. Keeping an acorn on your person brings fertility. This doesn’t necessarily mean physical fertility but can also bring you fertility of ideas, creativity or abundance. Wearing an oak leaf close to your heart will ensure that that you aren’t misled.

To see if you are compatible with a possible love, place 2 acorn caps into a bowl of very still water while thinking about the person you are interested in. If the acorn caps come together then you are well-matched and if they float apart maybe the time for the 2 of you isn’t quite right. Since timing is everything, just because the timing isn’t perfect right now doesn’t mean that it might not be right in the future.

To cleanse a home where someone is sick, make a fire from oak wood (obviously only if you have a fire place) to draw the sickness out. Please don’t do this in place of visiting a trained medical professional though. If you don’t have a fireplace, you can burn some dried oak leaves in order to smoke cleanse your home. If you happen to catch a falling oak leaf, some people believe that you will be safe from winter colds and flu.

🍴⚕️ Culinary & Medicinal

Acorns are the nuts of oak trees, which grow abundantly across the globe. Once a staple food for various societies, acorns are not as frequently consumed today. Acorns have gained a bad reputation because they contain tannins — a group of bitter plant compounds that may be harmful when consumed in high amounts. Tannins are considered an antinutrient, which means that they reduce your body’s ability to absorb essential nutrients from food.

Additionally, consuming high amounts of tannins may lead to adverse health effects, such as severe liver damage and cancer. However, most of the tannins leach out of acorns when they’re prepared for consumption — often by soaking or boiling. While no studies exist on the toxicity of raw acorns in humans, these nuts are rarely eaten raw.

A 1-ounce (28-gram) serving of dried acorns contains the following nutrients

Calories: 144

Protein: 2 grams

Fat: 9 grams

Carbs: 15 grams

Fiber: 4 grams

Vitamin A: 44% of the Reference Daily Intake (RDI)

Vitamin E: 20% of the RDI

Iron: 19% of the RDI

Manganese: 19% of the RDI

Potassium: 12% of the RDI

Vitamin B6: 10% of the RDI

Folate: 8% of the RDI

Scientists have also identified over 60 beneficial plant compounds in acorns, including catechins, resveratrol, quercetin, and gallic acid — potent antioxidants that can help protect your cells from damage.

The bacteria in your gut play a key role in your overall health. An imbalance of these bacteria has been linked to obesity, diabetes, and bowel diseases. Acorns are a great source of fiber, which nourishes your beneficial gut bacteria. Additionally, acorns have long been used as an herbal remedy to treat stomach pain, bloating, nausea, diarrhea, and other common digestive complaints.

Antioxidants are compounds that defend your cells from damage caused by potentially harmful molecules called free radicals. Research suggests that diets high in antioxidants may help prevent chronic illnesses, such as heart disease, diabetes, and certain cancers. Acorns are rich in antioxidants like vitamins A and E, as well as numerous other plant compounds.

Collecting and preparing acorns can be time-consuming. Though abundant in the wild, they’re not commonly sold in grocery stores. You may need to order them online if you’re unable to forage your own. You also have to leach them of their tannins to reduce their bitterness and ensure that they are safe to eat. This can be done by boiling or soaking. Though this process is quite simple, it may feel cumbersome — especially since other nuts are readily available and much easier to eat.

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️

Some people report nausea and constipation from raw acorns, though this has not been confirmed by research. What’s more, the tannins give these nuts a bitter flavor. Thus, is not recommended to eat raw acorns. You can easily remove the tannins by boiling or soaking your acorns. This process eliminates their bitterness and makes them safe to eat.

Acorns are a tree nut, which is one of the most common allergens worldwide. Allergic reactions to tree nuts range from mild itching, scratchy throat, and watery eyes to anaphylaxis — a potentially life-threatening response that can cause extreme difficulty breathing.

#baby witch #beginner witch #dark witchcraft #elder witch #herbalism #herbology #herbs #whimsigoth #witch aesthetic #witch herbs #witchcraft #witchblr #witchcore #witch tip #spirituality

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eikonbound · 4 months

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I've been tossing the idea of writing Barnabas around in my head for a while and I came to realize that I am interested in writing him, but his story arc in the game makes me soooo miffed. I wanted him to have more autonomy in the game. I wish that, even if he did have faith in a higher power of some sort, he hadn't totally acquiesced to it. I really wanted Barnabas to be the Big Baddie in the story and be motivated by the fact that he truly does believe he's ultimately doing right by the world.

I'm going to put this under a read more bc my thoughts got lengthy.

I'm going to add him to my muse list but stick to a specific verse where:

He was still born in the outer continents and, along with his mother, was a follower of the Circle of Malius.

They still relocated to Ash as the blight spread and joined other followers of the Circle of Malius who were already there.

But unlike other Dominants who awaken with their Eikon, Odin is more like Anima from FFX, where Seymour's mother sacrificed herself (against Seymour's wishes actually) so she could become an aeon.

In Barnabas' situation, Odin is an Eikon who the Circle of Malius believes can only be awakened by offering a sacrifice from the potential Dominant -- the stronger the connection, the more likely it is that Odin will choose that person as his Dominant. But according to their legend it doesn't always work; Odin may not see them as worthy or strong enough. And in those cases, there have been followers who sacrificed multiple loved ones (most of the time willingly, sometimes not) in the hopes of becoming a Dominant only to be refused each time. It's been many, many years since Odin has deemed someone a worthy Dominant, to the point where some people wonder if it ever truly happened at all or if it's just the stuff of legends.

I think maybe Barnabas' mother sensed something very strong and resilient in her son that made her think he had a good chance of being chosen by Odin. It was probably something she put off for as long as she could for the sake of raising her son. But once the conflict between the religious factions grew too dangerous, she wanted him to have a fighting chance. She would rather die in service of her religion and her son, even if it wasn't a guarantee, rather than the way she died in canon.

Similar to his canon story (according to Ultimania lore, since I like drawing from some of it!) he was 18 when she died. Unlike Seymour who was staunchly against his mother sacrificing herself to become an aeon, I think by the time Barnabas was 12 or 13 he understood the teachings well enough, and his mother well enough, to see that she would do anything to keep him alive. And I'm sure that he himself also felt the potential to offer something greater for his religion and peers.

So when his mother realizes their time has run out, he sacrifices her as an offering to Odin, who miraculously does grant his wish and chooses Barnabas to be his Dominant. Unlike Anima, his mother does not become Odin herself -- the Eikon is his own essence. His mother served as proof that he would give up even his most beloved relationship to act in service of the Eikon.

He still creates Sleipnir at this time. I'm not 100% sure what I want to do as far as how that pact was created between them but I like the idea of Sleipnir still being his closest advisor & confidant, and extremely important to Barnabas/Waloed as a whole.

And since the followers of the religion have been waiting for someone to be chosen as Odin's Dominant, they very eagerly follow his lead as Barnabas begins the process of taking over territories in Ash.

He already has a p big ego and superiority complex in canon (he is a King after all) and I could see him having been chosen by Odin in this verse being a reason why he wouldn't bend a knee to a god. I think he'd be more likely to try and become one himself.

I definitely have blank spots to fill in, such as why Barnabas stopped aging at a certain point, what Sleipnir's presence as Odin's steed means personally to Barnabas, and what his overall plans are for how he envisions himself granting the world salvation. I'm sure Ultima will have something to do with all of this but I really don't want to write Barnabas as a conduit for Ultima, simply doing his bidding and being manipulated by him. I'm also not sure how I want to integrate the Mythos aspect to it (though I think it could be v fun to plot out!) so that's a WIP for sure.

I normally don't write my muses in a way where I would only write them in a specific verse; I love being able to plop them in various ones and see how it goes. But the canon version of Barnie's story is so meh to me so I'm putting this out there in case anyone is interested! And I'd love to do more world building for individual plots with partners where the verse I've created for Barnabas can work with their HCs for their muse.

I figure he'll be a separate category muse on my page (request? guest? idk I'll figure it out) with an asterisk that makes it clear I'm only writing him with major changes to his background. I'll add all of this to a verse page for him soon and fill in those blanks as time goes on :3 Thank u for reading about my new terrible equestrian muse.

#excited & a lil nervous to write him but mostly excited!#lmk if you're interested and we can plot together :^)#also i'm gonna take a small nap & do some writing here later!#ch: barnabas #hc: barnabas

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starshower1215 · 4 months

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Hearthstone: Tragic Hero Version

There are five elements to a tragic hero in literature. They must 1) be highly renowned, 2) have a hamartia, or tragic flaw, 3) have their fortune reversed, 4) recognize their mistakes, 5) accept the consequences. So, if Hearthstone were to be the protagonist of a Greek tragedy, it might go like this:

In the high house of the Aldermans, Hearthstone is born the eldest of two, and is heir to the great fortune and power of his family. However, he is deaf, and all of Alfheim scorns him for it. Hearth devotes his life to proving his own worth to them, but... he is ignorant, and tends to place his loyalties and values in the wrong people.

One day, the opportunity comes upon him to visit the all-knowing god Mimir and his well. All in exchange for either a sacrifice or servitude, Mimir offers him two choices: great power in the ways of the runestones, or acceptance in Alfheim by gaining the ability to hear.

Hearth, desiring the love of his people, chooses to hear.

Like Odin, he gauges out one eye and drops it into the well for Mimir, knowing the wound could be hidden, and drinks from the prepared cup of water.

Now a hearing person, he returns home to Alfheim, and for a great period of time, news spreads of his 'sudden cure' and 'miraculous saving.' Bad news, however, travels just as quickly, and soon Hearth is mocked and rejected more than he'd ever been for being deaf. Even the power that his heritage provides cannot pull him out of the hole he has dug.

Hearthstone drags on through life, though it has lost what little light it held. Every which way he moves, there is a curled lip or narrowed eye of disgust. As time runs on, he begins to realize that, if he were trying to open a box his whole life to find the love he desired inside, he would have found it empty. It is a hard pill to swallow, but Hearth learns then that what he wanted was never truly available. It was hopeless. And though he may wish to turn back and retain his former self, he accepts that this was what happened, and this was what he'd have to live with.

Moral of the Story: This is not anything related to the idea that deafness is a flaw. It isn't something to be fixed, and though canonically, being deaf and choosing to be deaf is a big part of Hearthstone's character, there was undoubtedly a part of him which, at some point in time, would have made the trade immediately- as everyone would, to feel that they belong, because who likes being lonely? He makes the decision based on other people, not himself, and thus it is and always will be the wrong choice.

Additional Note: Greek plays tend to begin with the nine muses giving a prophecy or revealing the ending. I feel the prophecy might specify a regrettable choice in the future, obviously the reversal of fortune (or peripeteia), etc.

#magnus chase and the gods of asgard #hearthstone #hearthstone alderman #hearthstone mcga #magnus chase #magnus chase and the hammer of thor

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zarya-zaryanitsa · 11 months

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Consider the case of a rite intended to heal the leg of a horse that had been injured or gone lame. An early Germanic spell is known to have existed that involved the invocation of Woden (Odin), who healed his horse after it had sprained its leg as the god rode through a forest. In Christianized versions of the spell, the figure of Woden was replaced by Christ riding a horse into Jerusalem, performing the same healing feat. This adaptation may appear to be a concession by Christian authorities to persistent pagan magical practices. These authorities, however, never had any doubt that horses’ legs could be healed by supernatural powers, nor did they feel that such healing was, in and of itself, intolerable. They were concerned only that the act not involve the invocation of demonic power (for, of course, Woden was considered to be a demon, as were all pagan deities).

To replace the figure of Woden with that of Christ as the object of the invocation changed the essential nature of the act. With divine instead of demonic power being employed, the healing was no longer magical; it was now miraculous. This is not to say that, on a practical level, such adaptations were not driven by a realistic recognition of the need to accommodate deeply entrenched cultural practices, but rather to stress that such accommodations were in no way incompatible with the basic theoretical structure that Christianity sought to impose on conceptions of magical acts.

- Magic and Superstition in Europe by Michael D. Bailey

#folk magic

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findroleplay · 2 years

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Heya, I'm Vee, 18+ years old, female (she/her) from the CET timezone! I'm looking for a few new Fandom Roleplays!

I'm looking for Canon x OC, FxM only (will double for AxA) and very much offer to Double! I only roleplay on Discord.

I am semi-literate to literate. I can write a couple paragraphs, but I prefere not having too much pressure when it comes to length. I usually type around the max. length on Discord, sometimes more. But somedays it might be a bit less.

I write my OC in first person and the character I double as (plus any additional ones) in third person.

I am in college and not the most active (most likely no rapid fire), yet I try to answer regularly and ask of my partner to be patient. Roleplaying is just a hobby for me, so I don't wanna force myself to reply, if I still got work to do or wanna spend my freetime with something else.

I am a big fan of Romance, Angst and Drama! I also like mature themes and topics, like unhealthy relationships, perhaps some yandere here and there and a couple AUs! Smut is possible, yet would I prefere to let it be an afterthought, instead of the whole story.

I also enjoy love triangles (or squares) and am always up to also double for those!

When it comes to Fandoms, those are the ones that I'm looking for, as well as which characters I'd wanna pair my OC with. The coloured ones are my favourites! I can double up as any names characters, as well as a bunch more!

MY HERO ACADEMIA:

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Denki Kaminari, Eijirou Kirishima, Hanta Sero, Yuga Aoyama, Mashirao Ojiro, Fumikage Tokoyami, Hitoshi Shinso, Neito Monoma, Mirio Togata, Tamaki Amajiki, Yo Shindo, Inasa Yoarashi, Seiji Shishikura, Natsu Todoroki, Rody Soul, Shota Aizawa, Keigo Tamaki/Hawks, Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum, Mirai Sasaki/Sir Nighteye, Enji Todoroki/Endeavour, Toshinori Yagi/All Might, Kai Chisaki/Overhaul, Touya Todoroki/Dabi, Jin Bubaigawara/Twice, Atsuhiro Sako/Mr. Compress, Shuichi Iguchi/Spinner, Tomura Shigaraki

DANGANRONPA:

Byakuya Togami, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Mondo Owada, Leon Kuwata, Nagito Komaeda, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, Gundham Tanaka, Kazuichi Soda, Hajime Hinata, Izuru Kamukura, Nekomaru Nidai, Gonta Gokuhara, Kokichi Ouma, K1B0, Shuichi Saihara, Kaito Momota, Rantaro Amami, Ryoma Hoshi, Korekiyo Shinguji

MIRACULOUS:

Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir, Luka Couffaine/Viperion, Felix Graham de Vanilly, Kim le Chien

PERCY JACKSON:

Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan, Leo Valdez, Jason Grace, Apollo, Frank Zhang, Octavian

XENOBLADE CHRONICLES:

Shulk, Reyn, Dunban, Kallian, Rex, Zeke, Jin, Malos, Mikhail, Akhos, Adam, Minoth, Hugo, Noah, Lanz, Taion, Isurd, Zeon, N, Bolearis, Aizel

FIRE EMBLEM:

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ashe Ubert, Dedue Molinaro, Claude von Riegan, Chrom, Frederick, Stahl, Vaike, Lon'zu, Virion, Gaius, Henry, Gregor, Owain, Inigo, Yarne, Brady, Alm, Lukas, Gray, Tobin, Kliff, Clive, Forsyth, Python, Luthier, Conrad, Fernand, Berkut, Ryoma, Takumi, Xander, Leo, Odin, Laslow, Niles, Silas, Kaden

ZERO ESCAPE:

Junpei Tenmyouji, Santa/Aoi Kurashiki, Sigma Klim/Kyle Klim

AI: THE SOMNIUM FILES:

Kaname Date, Kuruto Ryuki, Saito Sejima, Moma Kumakura, Lien Twining, Gen Ishiyagane

13 SENTINELS: AEGIS RIM:

Shu Amiguchi, Nenji Ogata, Takatoshi Hijiyama, Keitaro Miura, Ei Sekigahara, Takemi Wajima

WAITING FOR SPRING:

Towa Asakura, Aya Kamiyama, Rui Miyamoto, Ryuuji Tada, Kyosuke Wakamiya

FRUITS BASKET:

Kyo Soma, Yuki Soma, Shigure Soma, Hatsuharu Soma, Momiji Soma, Kureno Soma, Akito Soma

SK8 THE INFINITY:

Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa, Miya Chinen, Kojiro Nanjo/Joe