The wrong aquarium (@ice-cold-loki) →
Loptr shrugged slowly, scooping some water in his webbed hands, pouring the water on his head before diving into the water with a hum. The merman resurfaced pretty quickly, smiling and enjoying the warm sun.
Sigyn smiled a little wryly at him, “I’ll miss you,” She said quietly, “When you’re out in the open sea, I mean…”
This tea is awful. It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t believe that lazy shit idyllic pastoral landscape on the goddamn cardboard box. It’s a damn lie and if you drink this tea you’ll know the heart of minty darkness
Like OK I appreciate that it tries to prepare you for whats inside by a cute picture on the box. Fresh green mint leaves, and some candy cane sticks to get you in that shitty assfaced Christmas mood. Look it’s even tied with a repugnant little red bow. fuck this tea.
So if you open the box and immediately steep a cup prepare to get one of those cute lil candy canes up your FUCKING NOSE and in your FUCKING EYES because this shit doesn’t know personal space in the same way a demon from hell doesn’t know a loving God.
I hope you like drinking your throat lozenges because here’s a blistering stream an actual menthol golem would piss down your fucking throat while you gag on its candy-striped wiener.
So you lock this shit in a box for 3 months while you recover from the worst toothpaste-flavored blowjob of your life and maybe get yourself together again. You recover. You move on. Things are looking pretty up and you think back, well maybe that godforsaken tea didn’t really taste like a peppermint Siberia. So you make a cup like the foolish piece of shit you are
and you’re right, but so wrong about the character and nature of your mistake you might as well star in Greek tragedy. You pathetic bag of bollocks.
because in the months its been locked in a top-shelf tomb the life and vehement mint-based hatred for the physical world has withered and desiccated out of its soulless teabag husks.
Now what you have got in your fucking unfortunate mug is a hot steaming cup of fuck you that tastes like the inside of the birch tree on the fucking box, or maybe Santa’s tears mixed with mummy dust, or midwinter leaf litter a vaguely minty dog only rolled in once.
The aftertaste stinks of wax. Why wax? Because it wants to remind you that you’re the kid who ate birthday candles in first grade, that’s why. And every single other bad decision you now regret.
fuck this tea. fuck it, it tastes like a hollow mannequin of a tea, hot leaf swill unfit to fertilize even fake fucking flowers.Maybe you could tan leather in it. I don’t fucking know but get it away from me and the human race. Fucking shoot it at the moon where it belongs with all of the other celestial fucking seasonings. fuck
I never thought I’d reblog a tea review but here we are.
The wrong aquarium (@ice-cold-loki) →
He nodded once, tilting his head and letting go of her hand as he backed up to swim in the water a bit. “Mmhm.” He hummed.
Sigyn sat back in the chair and watched him swim, “Gerald said we can get you back out to sea in a week or so,” She said by way of conversation, “You- You will visit, won’t you? When you’re back home? Just… so I can see how you’re doing?”
The conversation did not go as planned. Though he started off with pleasantries the prisoner was none to keen on revealing to him how to restore his wife to her former self. Enraged Loki had cursed him, cursed him for what he’d done, for in a sense murdering his unborn child, and for rendering his wife in such a state.
It took all his power to not strike the old bastard down dead in that cell. To the Einherjar guarding outside it merely looked like a someone heated conversation between the All Father and a certain shackled traitor.
Upon his exit he waved away the cluster of guards following him. He was fuming and it took all his concentration to keep the illusion maintained. Back in his chambers he barred the door and began sifting through texts and parchments in search of anything that would reverse what had been done. Before long day had turned to night, he sighed rubbing tired eyes.
He needed to get to her, to bring her back. Yet he wondered if it were better off she remain on Midgard, as a mortal. She seemed happy, full of life as she once was. Though his heart ached for her, longing for her to be at his side he did not wish to cause her sorrow any more. He sighed as he moved to lay upon his bed. He needed to see her again and so he took a calming breath and sought her out. This time he walked through the dream world searching for her as he’d done previously.
Sigyn’s dreams were, as usual, somewhat disjointed - they started out with a wedding between her and the man she had seen that day (it was actually that dream she based her sketches on), then a few days of life with him and being told by a blond, muscular man (who seemed to be her husband’s brother) that Loki had fallen off the bifrost. It was the first time she had ever been given a name.
The following nightmare was all too familiar - the old man taking away their child and her memories as a way of punishing her husband for some kind of crime usually caused her to wake in a cold sweat, but for some reason the way she left that dream this time kept her in a state of sleep.
She was in a lavishly decorated room, green silks and velvets hung around the windows as a cool breeze wafted in from outside, and on the bed, seemingly focusing on something was the man - Loki.
"He- hello," she stammered, not sure what to say to him - he looked tired, almost angry at something, but most of all he looked sad. Despite her rational mind insisting she’d never met him before her heart went out to him almost immediately, and she desperately wanted to see him smile like he used to.
I will be your slave [Prisoner AU] @thekingofjotunheimr
"What? No, I am not!" He replied offended.
"How am I supposed to deal with minor disputes when you go away when I spend the whole time missing you?" Sigyn teased, "I seem to alternate between missing you and keeping the boys out of trouble whenever you’re gone, and you know what they’re like," she kissed him gently, "what’s a woman to do when her husband is always so busy?"
"You know we are not allowed to leave yet," he whispered, leaning sideways as they sat at the head of the long table in the ball room. The king was incredibly bored, as none of the foreign guests had bothered to leave their safe group of like-minded people to conversate with the king — and it looked like they never would —, but as much as Thrymr would have loved to live up to Sigyn’s desires, they would be stuck here for another hour. "Just hold that thought."
"Well, it would make sense, if you were still worried, of course," Sigyn smiled into the kiss, "Given the turn I had today there’s every reason you would be,"
"And I am! Very worried, even!" He paused as he set foot inside the room and put her down in the middle of it, not fully letting her go before he had stolen a quick but worthy kiss from her lips. "I am so worried that I think it my duty to stay by your side all night long."
"Good," Sigyn smiled, trying very hard not to laugh at the game they were playing, "it’ll certainly help me feel better if you stayed, and I’m sure our guests won’t mind,"
"Either what I just felt was a contraction or just a cramp... not really sure.."
"We should go see a nurse," he stated; clearly that was now an unarguable fact. "Just in case."
Sigyn laughed quietly and rested her head against his shoulder, “What do you think we should call them?” She asked, “It ought to be something Jotun, I think - They’re princes, after all,”
"Hmm, yes, something Jotünn," he agreed, resting his own head against hers, watching the peacefully sleeping boys with a loving stare. "But it is more important that you like the names as well. They must be suitable mainly in that way."
"I won’t let them be named something we don’t agree on, love," Sigyn smiled, watching as the elder of the twins started to stir, "I can’t believe they’re finally here… It still feels a little unreal right now,"