#aumeme;

[sinnhelmingr]

Since I'm watching the superior 1940 version- How would Hel fit in Jane Austen land? // @withinycu​

Oh boy.

Okay so getting into the nitty gritty of world politics at the time, her native Denmark is uhhh going through it. It’s the final death throes of Denmark-Norway, the British have come and wrought absolute havoc, an alliance with France is in its infancy as a result, and the Swedes seem to be having a better go of it. Everything is going to shit. It’s marvelous. The nobility is about to get shitcanned in the next forty years depending on when we define the start of an Austen-style story. The pressure is on, I’m sure.

Lea, born into the prestigious pre-Reformation lines of Bolvasmithr and Ulveskog, found that prestige rather tarnished during her early childhood. Her parents were lain low by a series of misfortunes that precipitated a fall from grace and polite society. Her absent father has been, as Lea understands it, away for more than a decade escaping such scandal and, it is whispered, charges that might be brought against him. Those same society gossips will crow about the mercy and kindness of her father’s dear old friend, the Baron of Valhalla.

That the Baron ruined his blood brother’s standing is without question within Lea’s mind. That he would use her as surely as he used and cast out her brothers for what little he could bleed from the stone of their inheritance is taken as absolute certainty. While Lea had a brilliant education and showed a marked devotion to the feminine arts, she decided young to play the spinster. Once she could negotiate her own emancipation from her godfather’s country estate, she escaped southward on the continent, taking a Grand Tour to rival those of the highest born nobleman of her time. Of course, this is not what she called it, and was simply an excuse to move from coast to coast in the interests of her fragile health. She has not returned to Denmark-Norway in the decade since.

She’s an avid patron of the arts and sciences, a bright mind hiding beneath a fashionable frock. The consummate lady to obscure the Byronic character beneath, she proves a talented musician and hostess. She’s one of those proto-feminists who does not deny the rightness of the womanly arts while still demanding that a lady’s contribution be taken seriously as more than window-dressing for a husband’s estate. She’s also a staunch atheist in an era where religion is starting another upswing. She loves to break out the fact her mother’s name is purely Pagan in origin to see what each society she crosses will make of such facts.

Yes she is ugly and sickly, no that is not why she is unmarried. She’s in possession of certain facial and muscular deformities that give a rather gaunt and rigid quality to her left side, accompanied by afflictions of the nerves and heart. That she is still alive is testament to her spite, that her godfather receive nothing of what is rightfully hers. Catch her covering up as much as possible and rocking a veil like a vestal virgin. 

Despite this, she has several close... correspondences with ladies across the world, from Sussex to Naples and a fair few locations inbetween. She’s pretty clearly gay coded except we can’t say that, it’s an Austen-derived work.

So her stereotype in more romantic works is possibly the poor wretch that our bucolic-raised protagonist nurses and proves her goodness to through her actions towards this wretched, spiteful shrew of a sinner, or the snappy spinster that makes sport of our young society lovers only to deliver an impassioned third act speech about her wasted life or lost love and a protagonist realizes they don’t want to be this ugly foul lady in their old age.

(mind you lea is only in her early-mid thirties.)

other good alternatives include: the madwoman in the attic, the mysterious benefactor of a down on their luck protagonist who was once kind to her, the patron of a poor artist who loves a lady of means and maybe teaches him how to behave in proper society to fake it til he makes it, the dangerous mysterious figure who turns out to be heroic and is warning the leading lady away from a false love, or the mystery that blows into town with what seems like a terrible and cruel plan against the poor baron only to break out ODIN AIN’T SHIT HE DEFRAUDED MY PARENTS AND SOLD MY BROTHERS INTO DAMNATION to reveal him as the villain all along!

I am sure there is a way to make her a palatable romantic lead as a defrosting ice queen broken bird who chooses to let karma get the Baron before she wastes another moment of her life on his cruelty rather than her own salvation, all before delivering a god-tier anguished declaration of love to her romantic interest. I just don’t know how to slice it.

[sinnhelmingr-a-blog]

apocalypse au !!

there are other worlds than this.

She knows her role in RAGNAROK, and she knows the role of her GUESTS. There are some sources that whisper that the DEAD of HELHEIM, led by Hel’s own loyal hound, will rise and wander ASGARD. Some say that Hel and all her host will stand and accept the NEWCOMERS to her hall, the esteemed AESIR who strike each other down. For her part, Hel never reveals which idea is the TRUTH. She knows, perhaps, that it is a bit of BOTH, ONE AFTER THE OTHER.

The whole of her family, or those left ALIVE, has a singular goal to work towards: To tear DOWN the Aesir, those who bound Loki, and cast out his ELDEST children, who saw his youngest TURN and TEAR each other apart. Angrboda’s brood dreamed of the day, silent, for GENERATIONS. Sigyn kept her husband from DEATH, FIDELITY and VENGEANCE equally motivating her. The day Loki finally tears free of his GRUESOME bonds, there is a filthy GLEE in each survivor’s heart.

Fenrir will DEVOUR the All-Father. Jormungandr will AVENGE his father’s losses by taking the life Odin’s SON. HEL? Hel will unleash her WICKED, EVIL HOST upon the man who BANISHED HER in childhood. It is the sibling’s great regret that THEIR FATHER does not live to witness their TRIUMPH. The watcher HEIMDALL already saw to Loki’s end, at the cost of his own life.

But FIRST, Hel hopes, she might be the one to BREAK her brother’s CHAINS. If Hell must rise then let Hel RAISE IT.

‘Hello, Uncle,’ she says when she walks the same realm that had once been HOME. Her DEAD flood every street, SWARM every building. RAGNAROK has come, and it does not come GENTLY.

Odin fights his way back to the throne room and, HORRIFICALLY, Hel is sitting there, Looking down at him from the dais like he once looked down on her.Hel, all too SAINTLY in that moment, bids him not to be afraid.They BOTH know how this ends. He does not die until he faces FENRIR. It is not by a WOMAN’S HANDS that Odin is slain. Much as she always wanted the DELIGHT of ending his life, AVENGING her family, it is not her HONOR to claim. But his towers BURN, and his people SCREAM, and there is NOTHING he can do. Things cannot be as they were. He cannot SAVE them, Odin cannot STOP this. Things are out of his control. She wants to know if he UNDERSTANDS her now. She wants to know that he FEELS as she did.

Hel is not CRUEL. She does not remind him that, if he could RESPECT his kin rather than FEAR them, none of this would have happened.He’s ODIN. He would pin it upon FATE, what HAD to be done, look at how the three of them REIGN o'er Ragnarok. He would JUSTIFY himself. She will not give him the PLEASURE. If he will so desperately cling to his WISDOM and FATE, let him know that for all his attempts to stop this, there was NOTHING to be done. Fenrir is LOOSE. Thor lies dying from BLEAKEST poison. And now Odin must stand where she stood, and know LOSS.

She rises from his throne – let him have it, for all the COMFORT it can give. She knows how this ends. He can sit high upon his gilded dais, but she will have him – Terrible One, Ruler of Gallows, OATHBREAKER–  in her hoard, until a truer ending is reached. In her own mind, there has never been a man more WICKED, more DESERVING of Helheim.

She cannot FORGET this place, and who she WAS. She kneels to her hound, her GARMR, her CONSTANT FRIEND and companion, watches his blood mingling with that of Tyr. She runs her hands through his fur as he WHIMPERS. She tenderly pulls him to her lap, COMFORTING him, HUSHING him, telling her pet how she has loved him. He dies in her arms. Now, there is but ONE PERSON left whom she loves, and Fenrir doesn’t have the MIND to return the sentiment after such captivity.Perhaps it is just as well. He will be GONE soon.

She will SURVIVE. She will ALWAYS find BITTER MERCIES.She RULED. She SURVIVES. And the BURDEN of it continues to weigh her DOWN.

[sinnhelmingr-a-blog]

COWBOY/RANCHER/WESTERN/THE LIKE AU GO

there are other worlds than this.

All I can imagine is some kind of wandering mortician, hanging around settlements and makeshift camps where things are about to get very, very real. She is very good at what she does, treating her customers with all due respect and care -- but she’s still feared for her face and her solemn bearing. People let her do her job, pay her for her work, and then all but beg her to leave.

Hel decked out in all black, toe to tip. From the high neck of her blouse to the all too clean boots on her feet, there is not an inch of her left exposed to the sun, decked wholly in sun-scorched black. Even her face is shielded from view, a black hat circled by a dark veil. Even so, the thinness of the material makes it easy to see her deformity from the proper angles, in bright enough light.

She’s always got whiskey, food, and a ride for anyone who has a good story for her. You can travel in her little wagon for a way, amidst the coffins and tools, if you spin her a yarn. It can be a true story, fiction, even something you heard ages ago, but so long as she’s entertained, the wheels will keep on rolling.

No one used to the setting questions her name. The West is a place to become someone new, and stranger names abound -- even if she is quick to clarify. Not like Hell, not like Christians. It’s Hel, one L. Like the old world of her ancestors, though this is all she will ever share about her family.

Despite all of this grimdark aesthetic, Hel is still an animal lover. Catch her trying to befriend other people’s horses, petting cows, and generally being an Old West Disney Princess.

[sinnhelmingr-a-blog]

Lycanthrope AU Headcanons

there are other worlds than this.

She is born under a NEW MOON, pink and without hair, save for the dark lines above her eyes. Just ONCE, it is whispered, did Angrboda and Loki have a NORMAL child, as much as the term can apply to Jotnar. How readily they FORGET what the Ironwood holds. 

If she is an UGLY infant, she is UGLIER STILL as a PUP, half-fur, half-gnarled, exposed flesh. Half of her maw is stripped, revealing where her teeth might still grow if she survives. Angrboda is a mother of MONSTERS, and if you ask those who have seen her youngest, they will tell you the Giantess OUTDID HERSELF when it came to her daughter. WOLF or GIRL, Hel is never WHOLE.

She limps through FULL MOON NIGHTS, twisted and naked forepaw lending her a discomforting gait. She is a RUNT, true, and most still speak quietly, without cruelty, of how it will be KINDER if the beast does not live. Her BROTHER does not allow it, always sharing his kills with his sister, always protecting her neck.

If the IRONWOOD was so put off by the girl’s changes, one cannot imagine the horror of ASGARD at the first full moon. Soon, Hel learned not to leave her chambers when the moon rose fat in the sky. Her loneliness runs DEEPER for her dual nature than it ever could in a world where she is only an UGLY GIRL.

There is NO MOON in Helheim. There are no STARS. There is no SUN. Her people never know what their Queen becomes under the sway of Mani’s BAUBLE. She arranges her business outside of Helheim in a manner almost ARTFUL, never once coming close to the days when the moon is at its fullest. The Aesir won that much, at least – they TAMED the SHE-WOLF, made her AFRAID of her own bestial nature.

HATI and SKOLL are FINE BOYS. they see the Wanness of their dear auntie, see how DREADFUL her cold realm is. They promise her, in that proud, boyish way of theirs, that they when they catch the SUN and the MOON, they will bring them to her, so she might have something BEAUTIFUL in her spartan hall.

(Perhaps, when Ragnarok comes to lay low the GODS and the WORLD, the first true sign of its arrival will be all the HOWLING from Eljudnir – the sound of a WOLF, not a HOUND.)

[sinnhelmingr-a-blog]

Reincarnation AU

there are other worlds than this.

This world REMADE, it never had cause for a Goddess of Death to ever leave her high, lonely hall. She knew her part -- to welcome the slain AESIR, and to keep them very well. She cannot say WHAT took hold of her and extinguished what little life remained in Eljudnir’s cold, shadowy queen. All she can think is that perhaps this is FURTHER punishment for her father -- even in DEATH, he will never be with her.

MORTALITY is a strange concept to a queen of the dead. Of course, as an infant she never realizes it, born to loving HUMAN parents, gaining a HUMAN education, living in a world so COMMONPLACE in its buzz and vibrancy. The people no longer CRASH against her ears and HURT HER at the base of her senses. Still, some things can never wash out of a soul. She still sits CALMLY, observing all of the living things around her, just as HEL did as a child. She still hears the stories of Loki and Angrboda’s children flung from the bright towers of Asgard, and WEEPS.

She grows to womanhood, in this strange, properly formed body. She completes her compulsory education -- TOP OF HER CLASS, FREE RIDE, BRILLIANT -- and moves on to university. The human mind is INFINITE in its potential to entertain her. No one is entirely surprised when the quiet sentinel that calls itself a WOMAN chooses to go into the psychology program. Even fewer bat their eyes at the idea she will be a THERAPIST. She has always had a talent for listening, and a greater need to HELP.

Trips to Scandinavia. Trips across Europe. A road trip from one end of North America to another. FREE, she travels wherever her heart desires and her wallet allows. Sometimes, alone in a plush hotel room, curtains framed across her bed, she wonders what it is that she is RUNNING FROM, what it is that she is MISSING.

She catches sight of herself in the mirror, as she prepares for work, for an evening out, for any variety of things. She has never felt at home in this body, seamless, FLAWLESS. Men WANT HER in this life. The very thought is wrong, though she cannot explain WHY in any way that doesn’t end with her having to turn herself over to a colleague.

It is CHRISTMAS when all things strange and beautiful start to bleed into her new life, ancient ink flooding through the still water of her life. He is tall, and LOVELY, and she meets  him beneath the mistletoe. She knows him -- and more than this, she knows he should not be beneath THIS plant. Her comrades in couches laugh, urge their stolid guest to KISS her mysterious stranger. They do not speak as she pulls him away. They only begin to murmur among themselves when the two continue to STARE, continue to try and puzzle out how they know each other.

Perhaps he ALREADY KNOWS. She is still learning. She wants to ask him WHY, and WHAT HAPPENED, but mostly, she struggles to remember who he is, and where they have met. No words come. She has run dry the INSTANT they clapped eyes.

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

Reznov-Joins-The-CIA AU Julia.

In another life.

A much better adjusted person. I imagine she’s the daughter of Viktor and Sonya’s youngest, based on timelines, even if she was raised primarily by her grandparents. Dima was always a bit of a rolling stone, leaving his girl to have a much more settled life with his parents in Washington. Julia tried not to be bothered by her father’s absence, especially since her grandfather was so eager to make up for that missing piece. She grew up blasting through her grandparent’s bungalow and bugging all the other aging neighbors. Even after the Reznovs died, Julia retains the house she grew up in, the only youngster left in the cul de sac.

She greatly favors her grandmother, same long dark hair, doll face, and porcelain skin, everything mirrors save for her pale blue eyes. All the old men and some of her superiors still call her by Sonya’s name on accident. Most who actually get to know her recognize the fierce personality and silver tongue that made her grandfather such a living legend. She maintains her ambitions to come out on top, only this time she’s in the CIA.

Student council president, Ivy League graduated overachiever. She wants to rub her success in people’s faces, in addition to just being clever enough to come out on top. A shining star as a kid, and a equally self-driven and ambitious adult. Julia is better than her superiors and she knows it, even if she just smiles and keeps her mouth shut when she disagrees with them.

Section Head Reznov is here to let you all know she’s not just a team mom. She’s a cool mom. Who will still chew you out if you waste her or her team’s time. Stern cool mom makes awesome cupcakes. Will also fight tooth and nail for funding so help her God she’s not leaving her superior’s office until she gets a check. The worst kind of ‘my family history got me this job’ worker – the one who actually works to maintain her standing instead of kowtowing to those who so graciously hired her on her grandfather’s rep.

Did I mention Julia is a second generation American in this because that really makes my mind boggle. Severely. Her grandparents defected from the Soviet Union in the 40s, and Julia doesn’t exactly weep over the fact she’s not a proper Russian girl like she might in her mainverse.

Still a mess. A much better adjusted mess, but a mess. Daddy issues are still here, if much more low-key and less traumatizing. Still likes alcohol probably more than she should. Still throws herself wholeheartedly into her work to the detriment of a personal life. Unless she gets a love interest somewhere along the line she probably still lives in her grandparent’s house with the cat and a tarantula and a lot of empty space where her social life never blossomed.

As opposed to her mainverse where she empathizes with Menendez and understands his motivations and history all too well… He’s here white whale here. She wants Section’s team to stop staying so far up his ass so she and her people have a chance to catch him. Fuck you Mason step off don’t make her have to reprogram you.

Dimitri is kind of her Woods. She still visits the old soldier and brings him a nice hot meal. They sit and talk about the neighborhood and her grandparents and her work and anything that comes to mind. She considers him more of a mentor than anyone who raised her up in the CIA. They are friends :’)

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

Julia w/ the BO3 Specialists AU :3c

In another life.

Intel broker for the team, always giving them the deets. Holds pre-op meetings to get everyone up to speed, talk logistics, and generally brief them on situations. Julia and her lil tablet are set up for any situation the team needs to be made aware of.

Knows Blackjack. Pays him for intel too. Keeps her long creepy fingers in many different pies, very few of them legal. Hey, no one can say she’s ever out of the loop when she’s centered herself in the eye of the storm. Still, she tries not to advertise to her day job employers that their head of intel is fucking around with villains, cutthroats, and general scum of the earth to keep them on top.

Probably still dating the robot. The other fleshsacks can have drama, rivalries, and low key shipping, but Julia will be comfortable with her big yellow boyfriendbot and their chilling after a long day at work. Unless of course the anon who will not be named wants to try her with someone else on the team. But in Boyfriendbot ship worlds, I bet she and Prophet are bros. They nerdgasm over tech together.

Totally 100% real beef. Ok, so she’s too weak to classify as meat, but she has no augmentations or upgrades. She’s baseline human, and intends to stay that way until such a day as it’s between upgrading or dying. She has nothing against those who take upgrades or cybernetics, she just prefers not to pursue that lifestyle herself.

She’s meant to stay back at base, monitor situations, and report as necessary. This is her function. She enjoys it. Does it stop her from being drug along on ops with the rest of the team, let to fend for herself from various defense points with nothing but pistols? Abso-fucking-lutely not. I imagine she sticks to Battery and Outrider a lot at these times. Strength in numbers. Both of these women could break her over her knee. They will surely save her ass.

[hissingthroughmyteeth-blog]

Kingsman au

there are other worlds than this.

Julia is the biggest Roxy Morton fangirl. She would not have her current position had Roxy not paved the way, and the Russian ice queen would be fully tongue-tied like a schoolgirl not quite sure how to address a teacher. There would be a lot of respect towards the younger woman, a sort of befuddlement that any of this was real. The woman would fight an army for her fellow female agent, absolutely no questions asked, even if she might not know Roxy personally.

I imagine that Julia set herself apart from her cousin when her uncle was considering which to take on as a candidate by keeping on in her goal to take up the family business. When Dimitri told her that he was simply a tailor, he could see the young woman turning the idea over in her head, before eventually declaring a day or two later that she would now devote herself to being the best tailor she could be. Viktor, by contrast, exercised his right to live his life his own way rather than holding himself to family standard, a decision his father greatly approved of.

In this verse, Julia is obviously nowhere near as delicate as her mainverse. she had a much better upbringing, and access to food, which allowed her to hold more weight and translate it into strength. Lined with wiry muscle and years of training, she can certainly hold her own in a fight, but is as ever more brain than brawn. Her mind remains her greatest asset, an unchanging aspect of her characterization.

What do you mean part of her job description isn’t heading to the techies and observing what they do and what hardware they’re using? That’s certainly her favorite part of the job, at least. Other than the whole dominating people thing. 

I feel like while in England she becomes a living breathing John Mulaney-Tumblr hybrid shitpost. The few local agents who allow her into their homes might not notice the change at first. In fact, it might not be apparent to those who do not keep track of such things until the day she’s set to fly back to Russia. Extending her hand to whomever was kind enough to give her a lift to the airport, she tries to thank them for their time and hospitality. Antique photos fall out of either her jacket or luggage. The one thing these men could not replace. Sweating bullets, she takes off as fast as she can to board the plane, louboutins clashing hard against the floor as she flees.