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FOR ANYONE WHO WANTED THE TRANSLATION OF WHAT ODIN SAID IN THE UPDATE!!

“Jotun Modir…”

What seems to be happening is Odin is speaking in his native language after being woken up, which seems to be a mishmash of anglosaxon runes and english letters. (headcanon confirmed nice) 

Jotun is the ancient Norse for giant, and Modir was the mythological figure who gave birth to the Jarls, so Odin’s saying Giant Mother??? 
EDIT: It’s PROBABLY Odin saying it like an exclamation i.e “mother of god…” or something like that, you know aye, he’s had a rough week to be fair.

i woke up this morning and realised that i could not remember the sound of her voice. her laugh echos in my head when i try hard enough to imagine it but it’s nothing more than an empty, weightless reflection of reality teetering on the cusp of my memory. and it only brings me pain to try and remember it

but my fear of forgetting her is much more powerful and so i must remember and i end up at the same question, of everyone in the universe

what did we do wrong to deserve this

why me?

*pops my head over your cubical wall* Oh, Hello. It’s 2:20am here and I’m heading off to bed but I thought I’d leave you a little something? I hope you like it. *wink*

***********

The bass was strong and steady. A consistent heartbeat that he felt at different pressure points on himself. The club was packed, bodies pressing into each other and the faint smell of sweat, alcohol and hormones consumed the place. There was something different about tonight, what exactly he couldn’t pin down but it seemed like everyone was full of wild energy. He walked steadily across the crowd towards their table, ignoring the flirtatious looks shot his way. When he arrived though, there was only Kevin. Something close to anxiety shot through him as he leaned in to ask, “Where’s Neil?”

Kevin pointed into the throng of people, “Nicky took him.”  

Andrew leaned over the railing and looked down at the crowd. Finally he spotted them at the dead center of the dance floor. The lights flashed warm colors across their faces and Andrew could see Nicky smiling and swaying to the relentless pounding of the bass. He had his hands on Neil’s’ shoulders, swaying him along and Andrew was almost amused by the sight of Neil’s confused look until Nicky’s hands suddenly slide down Neil’s chest to grasp his hips, pulling him closer. He turned around and shot Kevin an order, “Don’t. Move.”

He cut straight through the crowd, parting it with the promise of death clearly radiating off him. When he finally reached them, he didn’t hesitate in placing a hand on Nicky’s shoulder, turning him around, and punching him in the solar plexus. He would have hit the ground if Andrew hadn’t pulled him close, giving the impression of a friend sporting another who had too much to drink.

“What did I tell you? You know I hate repeating myself.” Andrew whispered into his ear.

There was no response besides Nicky’s sharp inhales of breath, struggling to both respond to Andrew and get away from him. There was a gently pull on Andrews right wrist, Neil having come up beside him and Andrew could almost feel him pressed along his side. He wasn’t, even in the middle of a mass of bodies all pushing against each other. Neil always managed to keep that distance he needed between them, so even know if felt like he was being eclipsed by him, Andrew could see their only point of contact were the fingers gently encircled around his wrist.

He stared at him and though he meant it as something hard, something furious, something threating, it must have come out in a different way. Neil stared right back at him but his mouth had parted slightly, his breathing was harsher and-

“Go back to the table and keep Kevin Company. Do not try this again.” And with that Andrew shoved Nicky towards the stairs leading to their table without a backwards glance.

Neil was still watching him, no, studying him and Andrew felt that now familiar prickle across his skin. Always being on the giving end of such a look, it had messed with him for months having it directed his way. Made his heart race a little bit as it did now, made him think of soft lips, calloused hands, fierce, slate blue eyes. The music changed to another sultry slightly slowed bass sound and without hesitation, he pulled Neil those last two inches towards him, clutching his waist with an unforgiving grasp. Neil didn’t mind. He never seemed to mind. Slowly, so slow it could barely be registered as dancing, Andrew began to sway back and worth. Neil’s hands automatically came up and hesitated on Andrew’s shoulders for a second before being placed on the back of Andrew’s head.

They have never been this close in public. Well, surrounded by people while this close in public. It didn’t matter, they didn’t give a damn about people normally and here, pressed together as their bodies swayed, the air heavy and intoxicating and the lights soft and in shades of reds, purples, and blues, they could be anyone; the only ones.

Heat. It’s too much heat. He’s burning and taking Neil with him and god, how do normal people stand this? Do they even know? Has anyone ever felt this before? No, probably not. It’s far to terrifying. Andrew watches small beads of sweat begin to appear on Neil’s forehead, his upper lip, his neck, slowly dripping into his collarbone. It’s too easy to just lean in and place his mouth on there, run his tongue along the erratic pulse, ghost his lips up his neck and jaw landing a breath away from Neil’s mouth.

“Yes.” Neil whispers.

But before Andrew can press forward, it’s Neil who rushes towards his mouth filled with a desperation and need he’d never shown before. They get lost. He’s falling. Down, down, down and no, not here. He gathers every inch of his will power, places the hand that somehow found itself inside Neil’s shirt at the base of his throat and presses, hard. The slight moan Neil lets out nearly has him pulling out a knife but he resist; barely. He tries again, forcing his head back. They’re both breathing heavily, chest, hips thighs still glued together. There is no question of desire, their hips still shifting slightly but not at all in a way that can be perceived as dancing.

Neil’s eyes are shut tight and Andrew takes a moment to watch his face. He looks broken apart, as if Andrew simply tossed him off the roof and is now holding the sharp pieces in his hands. He glances at the fingers still at the base of Neil’s throat, amazed that they aren’t covered in blood. He wonders if he ever looked this way and was angry that he couldn’t answer that with a clear no. Finally Neil opens his eyes and… would he ever stop staring at him like that? He looked at him as if Andrew was the beginning and the end of everything. As if there had never been anyone before; as if there wouldn’t be an after. Andrew couldn’t have this. He didn’t want this. But if that were really the case he wouldn’t be here, surrounded by hundreds of people and only really seeing one person. They’re just standing here now, holding on to each other like life lines and Andrew places more space between them though not without reluctance. Neil blinks and it’s as if the world comes rushing back to him. He pulls away slowly and finally they let go of one another.

“You aren’t a bad dancer.” Neil states.

He isn’t smiling, but he’s not smiling in the way that Andrew knows he actually is on the inside. He gives him a flat look and the corners of Neil’s mouth raise the slightest bit.

“One hundred and twenty-three.”

Andrew turns away before he can see a real smile on Neil’s face and starts to head towards the stairs before pausing. He glances back at Neil, who’s right at his back waiting for him to move forward. He tosses Andrew a questioning look and fuck it, it’s been a strange night already. Andrew reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together tightly and begins to pull them through the crowd.

When they get to the stairs, he calls back, “one hundred and twenty-four.”

He doesn’t have to turn to know Neil is beaming at him.