@hel-inherbones / hel-inherbones.tumblr.com
connected to that Thanatos post… here’s Hel.
I had a much more intense Vitiligo as an idea in mind with her. And this is as much you’ll get from me on norse mythology front, at least until I’m done with a million and 2 stories about Greek Mythology XD
“Um… hello? Any… anyone listening?” The young man looks around the empty room. He is surrounded by chalk, various incense and other things the humans say you need to talk to the one he wished. He wasn’t sure if he has done any of it right.
The room looks like it would have been very beautiful if it had not been abandoned. Lots of lace, frills and elegant furniture
He sits with his legs tucked under him, the tears at the knees of his black jeans pulled wide. Despite the warmth of the room fueled by the many burning candles he still wears a black denim jacket with a hoodie sewn in over a band shirt that he wouldn’t be able to name if you asked him to. The hoodie is up covering most of his messy black hair. All around the interior edges of the hood the shadows are deeper and darker than one could think possible.
He has olive skin, sharp facial features especially the nose and the iris of his eyes must be such a dark brown as they appear to be black in most light. The expression he wears is a very soft, vulnerable one til a voice speaks from within the darkness of the hood.
“Why would she listen to us? We are of no use to her, not known to her.”
A second different sounding voice responds from the darkness; “Because we call, assuming that the humans gave us the right information, assuming we didn’t screw up the actions…”
The young man’s lip curls, he growls. “I didn’t screw anything up, whether or not what we were told could work is another matter. But I didn’t screw up, it’s why we chose me to become the I right?” He looks at one shoulder, than the other and when no one argues the point relaxes once more. Though a point was made why would Hel answer the call of someone connected to a potential rival. There’s nothing to do but try again and hope that she does respond before the kettle goes cold once more.
On the dresser sits a kettle, two mismatched tea cups, a bag of sugar and a brown paper bag with…something inside. Hopefully it will be enough of a tribute should things come to fruition.
Hel felt a tug, something deep within her. It was a kind of tug she had never felt before. It was a tug that felt like a child’s hand in her own, leading her someplace to show her something. Hel paused, mid sentence, tilting her head to one side, feeling that tug and wondering.
Once, a long time ago, her mother and father had warned her that she might be summoned. Or perhaps her mother had said that her presence would be requested. But she had been a young and carefree child then and had hardly listened with any degree of seriousness. It had seemed a silly and impossible notion then. And yet, here she was, something tugging at her, asking her to come along for a visit.
Hel looked at her subjects, moving to stand. “Forgive me,” she told their upturned faces. “I must leave you, but we shall return to this subject when I return.” She nodded and without a word more, she let the tug guide her through time and space, following roads she could not pass under normal circumstances.
She could feel herself start to materialize. It was a bit of a tingling feeling in her toes that started up her legs, through her torso into her arms and then her neck and head. In one blink she was standing in an unfamiliar room. She looked around her, taking as much of it in as she could. Her eyes swept across the boy who was not really a boy. Her eyes swept over the room and to the offering that was left. Tea was always a gift Hel was happy to receive.
“You know me well,” she commented lightly, moving toward the offering to see if the kettle was warm. There were two cups. “Shall I make you a cup?” she asked, turning to look at the being. They were not a boy, that much was clearly written on their soul. But perhaps one was easier than three.
“Tell me, are you called by one name, or by three?” she asked, making the tea into two cups without waiting for an answer to her previous question. She would certainly drink both if the other was not wanted. “I should not wish to be impolite as you have left a kind offering.” She did not get offerings as much as she had once. It was certainly appreciated.
It worked, she is now here. London should be happy but he’s not; gazing upon her he can’t help but tremble and look away. He is afraid. This fear makes him ashamed of himself; maybe this was all too much too soon? Maybe he isn’t ready to face another death deity so quickly or maybe he won’t be able to face one ever again… But then she speaks and it is not what he’s expecting. It’s much softer, kinder than any tone Hades ever used. It is enough to start to calm him, but then he remembers who he has summoned and tenses back up again. “I’m glad you like the offering my lady, in the bag you will find lemon cookies. I’ve never had one but the owner of this home loved them while she was alive so I hope they will do. As for a cup; while I won’t lie that I am excited at the idea of trying tea for the first time as so many of my friends used to speak highly of it. The decision of whether I join you isn’t mine; it is obviously yours…” He hesitates for moments before answering her other question, anxiety causing him to unconsciously wiping his hands repeatedly on the thighs of his jeans. He actually whines, what may be surprising is that there are three distinct whining sounds that happen over top of each other all having their own unique tone. The boy swallows hard, squares his shoulders, ensuring his gaze remains squarely on the floor; “I have been known until recently as Cerberus; but now that I have fled from Hades’ control I have taken the name London.”
This boy was a creature of subservience. Hel looked at him thoughtfully. Perhaps he has not been allowed to have opinions of his own or the freedom to express them. He was afraid of her, and while that was not new, it made her feel for him. Many were afraid of her. She embodied death and death was always frightening to the living.
She finished making the tea bringing both cups and the bag of cookies with her and she settled on the floor across from the boy. She passed a cup over to him and placed the bad between them. “Tea is best drunk with company.” She sipped her own cup of tea. “Please, help yourself to the cookies. And if you like the tea there is always more to be made.”
He was uncomfortable. He had tried to hide his true identity and she could see through it. Though that was not his fault. His facade would fool most, just not Hel. As a reader of souls one’s true form was always something she could read. 3 separate whines could only mean 3 separate heads. What an interesting being.
Hel nodded, sipping her tea seriously. Something must have happened and while she was curious she would not push. “Very well London. Tell me why you have called me here. Perhaps I can help.”
London watches her sip her tea rather intently; then tries to do what she does before answering her question. The flavour of the tea has him scrunch his face and pull his face back from the cup a little.
“I know I am unworthy to speak to you.” He very purposefully, gently puts the cup down with one hand staring at it to ensure his focus. He raises his other hand over his head as high as he can and waves it about; “Hades reminded me many times that those like you and him are up here while I’m more here…”
He lowers the hand so its only about an inch above the floor before waving it again.
“But he said that all Underworlds are run like his, he has the best model, that no matter where I went, if I was allowed to go anywhere, which I wasn’t I would see that everyone was like his. And I just had to know if that was true.”
With the cup safely on the ground he’d reach into the bag and pull out a cookie but not take a bite; instead just stare at it hesitantly for a moment before leaning down to sniff the cookie seeming to be uncertain of what he smells. Then turns his attention back to Hel, looking admonished though nothing was said or done. “So if I may ask what is your SPH, your CPS; and how many strategies have you operationalized the implementation of in order to ensure what you consider peak holistic leveraging of asset deployment?”
A being such as this felt he was unworthy to speak to her. That made Hel quite sad truthfully. He was more than worthy to speak to another being. To have ideas and to share them freely with others. She wishes to fix this if she could.
She listened patiently as London finished speaking. There was a lot here to work her mind around. So much she needed to say and respond to, and yet she needed be gentle. She needed to handle this with care and with kindness. Except for the last bit. That sounded far too technical for her to understand. It sounded like death being run as a business.
"First, London, you have been lied to," she said softly. She wanted to reach her good hand out to him, to give him a sense of comfort. She wasn't sure it would be welcome however and she refrained. "You are certainly worthy to speak to me. You are a creature with dignity and are worthy." She sipped her tea and watched London for his reaction. She wondered if anyone had ever told him he was worthy.
"Second lie is that all death gods are the same. We are all different. We all rule differently." She paused a moment to sip her tea. "I honestly have no idea what any of those words are or what they mean." She put her tea cup down. "If you'd like, I could show you Helheim.
“Um… hello? Any… anyone listening?” The young man looks around the empty room. He is surrounded by chalk, various incense and other things the humans say you need to talk to the one he wished. He wasn’t sure if he has done any of it right.
The room looks like it would have been very beautiful if it had not been abandoned. Lots of lace, frills and elegant furniture
He sits with his legs tucked under him, the tears at the knees of his black jeans pulled wide. Despite the warmth of the room fueled by the many burning candles he still wears a black denim jacket with a hoodie sewn in over a band shirt that he wouldn’t be able to name if you asked him to. The hoodie is up covering most of his messy black hair. All around the interior edges of the hood the shadows are deeper and darker than one could think possible.
He has olive skin, sharp facial features especially the nose and the iris of his eyes must be such a dark brown as they appear to be black in most light. The expression he wears is a very soft, vulnerable one til a voice speaks from within the darkness of the hood.
“Why would she listen to us? We are of no use to her, not known to her.”
A second different sounding voice responds from the darkness; “Because we call, assuming that the humans gave us the right information, assuming we didn’t screw up the actions…”
The young man’s lip curls, he growls. “I didn’t screw anything up, whether or not what we were told could work is another matter. But I didn’t screw up, it’s why we chose me to become the I right?” He looks at one shoulder, than the other and when no one argues the point relaxes once more. Though a point was made why would Hel answer the call of someone connected to a potential rival. There’s nothing to do but try again and hope that she does respond before the kettle goes cold once more.
On the dresser sits a kettle, two mismatched tea cups, a bag of sugar and a brown paper bag with…something inside. Hopefully it will be enough of a tribute should things come to fruition.
Hel felt a tug, something deep within her. It was a kind of tug she had never felt before. It was a tug that felt like a child’s hand in her own, leading her someplace to show her something. Hel paused, mid sentence, tilting her head to one side, feeling that tug and wondering.
Once, a long time ago, her mother and father had warned her that she might be summoned. Or perhaps her mother had said that her presence would be requested. But she had been a young and carefree child then and had hardly listened with any degree of seriousness. It had seemed a silly and impossible notion then. And yet, here she was, something tugging at her, asking her to come along for a visit.
Hel looked at her subjects, moving to stand. “Forgive me,” she told their upturned faces. “I must leave you, but we shall return to this subject when I return.” She nodded and without a word more, she let the tug guide her through time and space, following roads she could not pass under normal circumstances.
She could feel herself start to materialize. It was a bit of a tingling feeling in her toes that started up her legs, through her torso into her arms and then her neck and head. In one blink she was standing in an unfamiliar room. She looked around her, taking as much of it in as she could. Her eyes swept across the boy who was not really a boy. Her eyes swept over the room and to the offering that was left. Tea was always a gift Hel was happy to receive.
“You know me well,” she commented lightly, moving toward the offering to see if the kettle was warm. There were two cups. “Shall I make you a cup?” she asked, turning to look at the being. They were not a boy, that much was clearly written on their soul. But perhaps one was easier than three.
“Tell me, are you called by one name, or by three?” she asked, making the tea into two cups without waiting for an answer to her previous question. She would certainly drink both if the other was not wanted. “I should not wish to be impolite as you have left a kind offering.” She did not get offerings as much as she had once. It was certainly appreciated.
It worked, she is now here. London should be happy but he’s not; gazing upon her he can’t help but tremble and look away. He is afraid. This fear makes him ashamed of himself; maybe this was all too much too soon? Maybe he isn’t ready to face another death deity so quickly or maybe he won’t be able to face one ever again… But then she speaks and it is not what he’s expecting. It’s much softer, kinder than any tone Hades ever used. It is enough to start to calm him, but then he remembers who he has summoned and tenses back up again. “I’m glad you like the offering my lady, in the bag you will find lemon cookies. I’ve never had one but the owner of this home loved them while she was alive so I hope they will do. As for a cup; while I won’t lie that I am excited at the idea of trying tea for the first time as so many of my friends used to speak highly of it. The decision of whether I join you isn’t mine; it is obviously yours…” He hesitates for moments before answering her other question, anxiety causing him to unconsciously wiping his hands repeatedly on the thighs of his jeans. He actually whines, what may be surprising is that there are three distinct whining sounds that happen over top of each other all having their own unique tone. The boy swallows hard, squares his shoulders, ensuring his gaze remains squarely on the floor; “I have been known until recently as Cerberus; but now that I have fled from Hades’ control I have taken the name London.”
This boy was a creature of subservience. Hel looked at him thoughtfully. Perhaps he has not been allowed to have opinions of his own or the freedom to express them. He was afraid of her, and while that was not new, it made her feel for him. Many were afraid of her. She embodied death and death was always frightening to the living.
She finished making the tea bringing both cups and the bag of cookies with her and she settled on the floor across from the boy. She passed a cup over to him and placed the bad between them. "Tea is best drunk with company." She sipped her own cup of tea. "Please, help yourself to the cookies. And if you like the tea there is always more to be made."
He was uncomfortable. He had tried to hide his true identity and she could see through it. Though that was not his fault. His facade would fool most, just not Hel. As a reader of souls one's true form was always something she could read. 3 separate whines could only mean 3 separate heads. What an interesting being.
Hel nodded, sipping her tea seriously. Something must have happened and while she was curious she would not push. "Very well London. Tell me why you have called me here. Perhaps I can help."
“Um… hello? Any… anyone listening?” The young man looks around the empty room. He is surrounded by chalk, various incense and other things the humans say you need to talk to the one he wished. He wasn’t sure if he has done any of it right.
The room looks like it would have been very beautiful if it had not been abandoned. Lots of lace, frills and elegant furniture
He sits with his legs tucked under him, the tears at the knees of his black jeans pulled wide. Despite the warmth of the room fueled by the many burning candles he still wears a black denim jacket with a hoodie sewn in over a band shirt that he wouldn’t be able to name if you asked him to. The hoodie is up covering most of his messy black hair. All around the interior edges of the hood the shadows are deeper and darker than one could think possible.
He has olive skin, sharp facial features especially the nose and the iris of his eyes must be such a dark brown as they appear to be black in most light. The expression he wears is a very soft, vulnerable one til a voice speaks from within the darkness of the hood.
“Why would she listen to us? We are of no use to her, not known to her.”
A second different sounding voice responds from the darkness; “Because we call, assuming that the humans gave us the right information, assuming we didn’t screw up the actions…”
The young man’s lip curls, he growls. “I didn’t screw anything up, whether or not what we were told could work is another matter. But I didn’t screw up, it’s why we chose me to become the I right?” He looks at one shoulder, than the other and when no one argues the point relaxes once more. Though a point was made why would Hel answer the call of someone connected to a potential rival. There’s nothing to do but try again and hope that she does respond before the kettle goes cold once more.
On the dresser sits a kettle, two mismatched tea cups, a bag of sugar and a brown paper bag with…something inside. Hopefully it will be enough of a tribute should things come to fruition.
Hel felt a tug, something deep within her. It was a kind of tug she had never felt before. It was a tug that felt like a child’s hand in her own, leading her someplace to show her something. Hel paused, mid sentence, tilting her head to one side, feeling that tug and wondering.
Once, a long time ago, her mother and father had warned her that she might be summoned. Or perhaps her mother had said that her presence would be requested. But she had been a young and carefree child then and had hardly listened with any degree of seriousness. It had seemed a silly and impossible notion then. And yet, here she was, something tugging at her, asking her to come along for a visit.
Hel looked at her subjects, moving to stand. “Forgive me,” she told their upturned faces. “I must leave you, but we shall return to this subject when I return.” She nodded and without a word more, she let the tug guide her through time and space, following roads she could not pass under normal circumstances.
She could feel herself start to materialize. It was a bit of a tingling feeling in her toes that started up her legs, through her torso into her arms and then her neck and head. In one blink she was standing in an unfamiliar room. She looked around her, taking as much of it in as she could. Her eyes swept across the boy who was not really a boy. Her eyes swept over the room and to the offering that was left. Tea was always a gift Hel was happy to receive.
“You know me well,” she commented lightly, moving toward the offering to see if the kettle was warm. There were two cups. “Shall I make you a cup?” she asked, turning to look at the being. They were not a boy, that much was clearly written on their soul. But perhaps one was easier than three.
“Tell me, are you called by one name, or by three?” she asked, making the tea into two cups without waiting for an answer to her previous question. She would certainly drink both if the other was not wanted. “I should not wish to be impolite as you have left a kind offering.” She did not get offerings as much as she had once. It was certainly appreciated.
shh, it’s okay. it was just a dream.
Hel had awoken screaming and even now she was trembling. Her breath was labored. Everything was awful. She felt the trail of hot tears fall from her left side, the good side. The only eye that could produce tears. She hadn’t even bothered with her glamour. Her hair fell down in back in dark waves, her skin its natural olive color instead of pink. And her right half, her rotting half, fully on display. “It was terrible, Aunt,” she said softly. Anything louder than a whisper might make the dream real. She didn’t want that to be real.
She didn’t want to be here with her Aunt, either, but in her panic and fear it was the only place she could go. Her Aunt was the only person she could trust in Asgard, even though she had tried to be cold with her and distant. It was Odin she ought to fear and her dreams reminded her of such. “Oh, Aunt, it was terrible.”
miscellaneous angst starters.
This is actually very true. Loki frequently tells inconvenient truths, which are branded lies because those truths are too difficult for many people to deal with, hence his reputation as a liar.
Bear in mind these are the friends I talked to/chatted with recently among the ones I know NOT who I love the most you rascals!! >‘3 what fun~ But, ooooooh FINALLY FINISHED! Lovely OC challenge for my babies!!!<3<3<3<3<3 @chocolatefrizz89 @singinghands @onsilentwings @dont-call-me-a-faerie @thoughtful-raven @theoasiswinds @kodaris-art
KOKABIELLLL LOOK AT HER!!! SHE LOOKS SO DAMN CUTE IN YOUR STYLE!! MY HEART! SO TEEN AND SWEET!!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ Thank youuuuu
❤❤❤❤❤
Some of you know Roki, the mun behind @thoughtful-raven. She has finally left a bad relationship situation which i will not go into detail, but she’s been left with a lot of fees from the divorce she could use some help with if you can! She’s not out of the woods yet. She’d like to start fresh as well and is working really god damn hard to do so, but she could use some help and she’s willing to do lil’ sketches for people for donations! Here’s the link to her GoFundMe if you’d like to donate and/or read more on her situation and what the fees are covering. It would mean a lot. https://www.gofundme.com/f/untying-the-knot
Tea and Village Plant Witch Aesthetic requested by anon
The Buffalo Times, New York, August 2, 1899
“Hero and villain. I have been both.”
