pirateangelbaby | Even a God Can Need a Friend [Open to friends]

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Even a God Can Need a Friend [Open to friends]

[OOC: This post and its threads may contain Endgame spoilers. Potential trigger warnings include depression, alcohol abuse, and suicidal thoughts. (See the bottom section of Thor's updated permissions page for more detail on relevant warnings, Thor’s triggers, and a disclaimer about his narration style.) If you intend to tag Thor and are sensitive to this kind of content, please let me know before we begin so that I can provide a safer roleplay experience for you. Individual threads on this post will not be warned for on a case by case basis.

Thor has left his current address with the remaining Avengers, Loki (

coldsong), Prometheus (

liverfree), and Sif (

lady_sif). Other close friends are welcome to visit by getting coordinates from those listed, which may be done offscreen (of the Avengers, Rocket is the most likely to be out and about in the Nexus right now) - if in doubt, please ask the relevant mun. This post is intended to provide Thor with moral support as he grapples with his mental health; each thread will be treated as though it is a different day entirely so his mood and the immediate setting may vary. I do not mind slow tags, and this post will be perpetually open for a long while, so don't worry if you can't get to it right away but still want to play.]

Above the Arctic Circle, in the far north of Norway, the village formerly known as Henningsvær sprawls out across a tiny chain of islands. Despite the approach of summer, the weather is cool and overcast, sea breezes often sweeping through the narrow streets. For those approaching by road, the small single-lane bridge leading from the mainland now boasts a hand-painted sign in Norsk and Asgardian runes welcoming visitors to Asvera, which the local humans have taken to calling New Asgard. Population: 832.

Though much of the world still feels half-empty and apocalyptic, there is little of that here. Asgard has filled the empty spaces, each house claimed and occupied, as well as several hotels that once served seasonal tourists. Fishing boats come and go from the harbor, dock workers hard at work learning to repair nets and lines, others processing the day’s catch for consumption. There is no market, no selling of goods; everything is distributed communally through the grocery on the main island, every citizen entitled to a share, every citizen expected to work to support the others, save for the children who are too young.

The village is quiet, but busy. There is always work to be done, or new skills to learn to survive in their new home. The king, however, may not be so easy to find. Here in the tiny Norwegian village, there is no golden palace to give visitors a place to start looking. Perhaps it’s best to ask for directions.

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"Okay, to start the potatoes, we need to dig straight, shallow trenches. Each trench should be two inches apart from the next." Pamela looks around for a couple of gardening tools, and finds a few hoes. She presents one to Thor with a smile.

"The onions also need trenches. But they need to be further apart. Harley you could start on the other end for those." Pamela instructed.

It's almost meditative, digging in the dirt, working with his hands. Building something, rather than tearing it down. Every seed he plants in the damp earth is more food for his people, the potential for growth and goodness given a chance to bloom, with time and patience.

Though Thor pays little attention to it, the skies slowly clear as they work, the sun peeking through the clouds for the first time in several days.

It's not difficult work, but nevertheless when they finally stand back and look at their handiwork, Thor feels good about what they've accomplished, small though it is. Little wet hills of earth mark where each seed and bulb is buried, and a little chicken wire for the beans to climb as they grow. It's not enough to sustain the entire village, not by a long shot. But it's a start, humble though it is. A first step.

Both Pam and Harley are covered with dirt by the time the work is done. But they are both laughing, and still enjoying their time. So it was well worth it.

Pamela looks at the seeds and bulbs, a satisfied smile on her face. She could use her abilities to hasten their growing abilities. But wants to give something to Thor and his people to look after. They will feel more satisfied eating the vegetables if they are the ones to look after them, and care for them.

"We all need a shower..." Harley grins at Pamela. The other woman rolls her eyes. But still smiles.

"And perhaps supper, if I am invited to your home for such a meal," Pamela glances over to Thor with a smile.

They're not the only ones bearing the marks of the afternoon's hard work. Thor has a dirty streak across his forehead where he'd wiped sweat away, and his arms are brown up to the elbows, though it clings more to his flesh arm than the metal one.

Mention of a meal gives him pause as he brushes the worst of the dirt from his knees. Thor is genuinely not sure when was the last time he looked in the pantry, and can't remember if there is anything fit to serve all of them. Harley has been doing more of the cooking lately, when it comes to actual meals and not just eating his way through a bag of chips or a box of snack cakes.

"We might have to stop by the grocery first."

"I never got a really good look at the grocery when I first arrived," Pamela smiles, appreciating the suggestion.

"It would be a good thing to get a few more groceries in the cottage. Ohhhh… let's find out if they have corn we can pop. For tonight!" Harley grins.

Thor is familiar with popcorn from his time with the Avengers, and a handful of occasions that Stark had called 'movie night.' While he hadn't completely understood some of the movies he's been shown, Thor had still enjoyed the experience at the time. So he nods slightly, as he approaches the water's edge to rinse his hands clean in the cold sea before they head back.

The path back to his cottage would have taken them past the grocery anyway, so it is no detour to stop there on the way. The store is quite small, and the aisles are well-sorted, though the labels on the shelves do not often match what is being kept there, the distribution managed by a single Asgardian woman who is occupied with sorting the latest shipment of dried goods and putting them away. A child toddles along in her wake, a little boy who looks to be around three years old, grasping at the train of her skirt as if he cannot stand to be separated from her.

The woman looks up at the sound of the door opening, and does a double-take when she sees who has walked in. "Your Majesty," she greets him, surprised. Her gaze flicks over the two women as well, recognizing Harley from her presence around the village, though not the green-skinned woman with her. "Is there something I can help you find?"

Neither Harley or Pamela worry about cleaning the dirt off their hands or arms right now. After all, Pamela enjoys having the earth on her body. And Harley is just living life at its fullest.

They both smile at the Asgardian woman who is managing the grocery.

"Whatcha going to make for supper, Thor?" Harley asks him, an easy smile in his direction. Letting him decide on what supplies they will need. It is one more little thing that might mean a lot, after time.

"Do you have corn kernels? And cooking oil?" Pamela asks, still interested in making popcorn later.

The grocer nods, looking thoughtful. "Aye, cooking oil in abundance. Corn kernels..." That one is more difficult, as corn is a new ingredient to Asgard altogether, and she moves to browse the shelves where she'd placed the less familiar - or identifiable - foodstuffs. It may take her a few minutes to find them, but there is a modest amount left over from when the grocery was still operating as a business, rather than a storehouse.

Thor slowly moves along the shelves himself, casting his eye over the goods in hopes of finding inspiration. Flatbrød, cheese, tomato sauce... "Maybe a pizza?" he suggests to Harley, though he has no idea what a real recipe would be like. He'd certainly eaten enough of it in New York, and it had seemed rather straightforward then.

Pamela thanks the grocer as she finds both the cooking oil and corn kernels.

Harley smiles, joining him as he looks over the goods on the shelves. "A pizza would be great. Can't go wrong with pizza and popcorn."

"Did you want to stick with just a cheese pizza? Or put other toppings on it?"

The little boy stares shamelessly up at Pamela, watching her with open curiosity, though he never says a word. The grocery absently ruffles his hair, and encourages him to hold her hand, leading him back toward the front of the store to 'help' her count boxes of dried pasta.

Though it seems daunting to try to even pick toppings from the sheer multitude of options, the idea of leaving a pizza plain had honestly never crossed Thor's mind, and he shakes his head. It's been so long since he's really wanted to eat anything in particular that he is not sure what he wants, however. "Mushrooms and onion," he decides at last, hoping that's all right with his guests. "And a little stockfish." It's something they have in abundance, locally caught and dried, and it just doesn't feel like a meal without some kind of meat. It should be easy enough to create a few experimental slices, while leaving the rest of their creation to vegetables only.

He's utterly lost when it comes to choosing a cheese, however. He's never heard of most of the cheeses in stock, only recognizing that goat cheese probably won't melt the way they want.

"Sounds great. Less onions on my pieces, so I can share my hammock with Pamela if she wants to sleep over." Harley grins.

Pamela watches the little boy, and his guardian, with interest. She has a spot spot for children.

"Let's see... so many great cheese choices! Mozza! Ohhhh Cheddar! Ohhhh Goat Cheese! Man... can we just have a little cheese plate too?" Harley asks, excited.

“If it does not leave others without.” There are a few types they can take that won’t deplete the stocks entirely, so between Thor and Harley they collect all the ingredients needed for making supper, and carry them back to the cottage on the bluff.

By now, Harley is more familiar with the kitchen than Thor is, and he will need a little prompting to figure out how to operate the oven, a little more primitive than anything that had ever been in Stark’s tower. Finding an appropriate baking pan, too. There is no recipe to follow, just Harley’s instructions and what little Thor knows about what pizza is supposed to be like, spreading sauce and cheese on top of the flatbread and adding toppings before sliding it into the oven to bake.

"We will not take more than what we need. And we will give back, when we can." Pamela promises softly. She is pretty serious about the promise.

While Harley helps Thor in the kitchen make the pizza, Pamela sets the table for three, finding plates, and cups for all of them. And finds a vase, where she can place a couple of flowers too.

"I do wish a shower before supper, may I use yours, Thor?"

"Of course. Towels are in the... hall closet, I think?" It's probably a problem that he's lived in this house for weeks now and still is not entirely familiar with where things are. A small frown creases his brow as he thinks about that, fetching a washcloth for himself to finish wiping the dirt from his face.

Without Pamela in the room, the effects of her pheromones still linger, though not quite as strong and immediate. Enough that Thor feels different, even if he can't quite put his finger on why. This is the first good day he has had in months, and he hasn't felt the need to get himself a drink yet.

Pamela gives Harley a brief glance, and the blonde smiles at her. "I have towels here too. They are bright pink. You don't have to worry about leaving any skin cells behind on my stuff..."

"Thank you..." Pamela nods her head.

Harley smiles at Thor. "Thanks for being so accepting of her. Red really has tried to turn her life around recently."

Their exchange leaves Thor a bit befuddled, unable to track why it would matter for his guest to use Harley's towels. She hadn't wanted to be touched, earlier, though she hadn't explained why, and it hasn't occurred to Thor to question it.

Harley's follow-up leaves him even more confused, and he pauses in rinsing out the washcloth in the sink. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Must be the attitude of the 'heroes' on our world that is so different. They just cast as both as criminals, because of our past." Harley shrugs.

"That is why I have been taking her to the Nexus more often recently. She really deserves to know that there are other people out there... that will accept her."

"I'm not a hero." Thor doesn't say it as strongly as he would normally, if he was fully free of Pamela's influence. Instead it's more a statement of fact, something he knows to be true. And though it hurts him to say it, it's muted, muffled, like a shout from a distance.

He doesn't intend to listen to any arguments to the contrary, either. With his hands and face now fully clean of dirt, he moves over to the oven to check on the pizza's progress. It won't be long before it's ready.

"That is what I like about you Thor." Harley isn't going to argue with him.

Pamela soon returns to the room. She pours some water into the three glasses on the table. And smiles. "Looks like I have good time. Smells like pizza."

"We haven't had a decent pizza day in ages, Red." Harley grins.

"I think the last time was the sleepover with Catwoman and Enchantress." Pat smiles

"Have you done something like that with the Avengers, Thor?" Harley sits down.

Just water? Something about that doesn't feel right to Thor, but he can't quite put his finger on why. He dismisses the thought as he pulls the pizza out of the oven, and sets to slicing it up with a knife.

"Sure, we shared living space for a while when we were all living in Stark's tower," he answers, a pang of nostalgia in his chest, though it was only a handful of years ago. "Sharing a meal after a battle is something we'd done since the first time we were assembled, after the Chitauri invasion. More often at a restaurant than having food delivered, but there were times we did not want to eat in public. Because of injuries, or the like."

"Oh... I meant did you ever have a sleepover! But sharing a meal with teammates sounds great..." Harley grins.

"We shared meals together in Arkham... but it was a little different." Pamela noted softly. "We were not eating as team mates."

"That has changed. Little by little." Harley starts digging into her pizza slice.

Thor shrugs, taking a bite of his pizza. "As I said, we did share living space. Stark provided rooms for all of us, and allowed us to adjust the decor as we liked." A small, fond smile is on his lips as he thinks of those better days, before they had known what danger they faced. Before everything had gone wrong. "When we were at the tower, much time was spent in each other's company."

Though Thor has done a great deal to isolate himself, both through necessity and to cope with the guilt, he misses them all dearly. Misses being able to invite Steven for a spirited workout spar, or trading verbal jabs with Stark, or teaching Natasha how to braid her hair in the Asgardian fashion. But those days are gone, and with the Avengers fractured as they are, Thor cannot see them returning to what they once were. Not now.

One more thing to mourn, he supposes. But he is not entirely without friends, either. Steven has visited several times, and Thor has appreciated every single one.

Harley and Pam know how it feels to be torn away from a team. Or those they once trusted... and can not have the same connection with, as before.

"Is there anything we can do to help the others?" Pamela asks softly. She was told by Harley about what happened in Thor's world. And hopes she is not intruding too much into his grief.

Perhaps it's for the best that it's Pamela asking. Firmly under the influence of her pheromones, right now it doesn't hurt as much for Thor to think of his friends, better able to remember the good times without the constant stab of grief grinding away in his belly. Distanced, not as raw, as if he's had years to process instead of only months.

For today, at least.

Though while he's able to answer, he's perhaps not as helpful as he'd like to be. "I don't know. Some of them are keeping busy. Helping others. Natasha, Steven, Rabbit... I haven't heard from Stark or Banner, or Barton." There are others, but he doesn't know them well enough to be friends. And others still that have joined the dust and ash of the universe, as even the Avengers did not escape the culling with their numbers unscathed.

"Maybe you could bring the ones who are keeping busy a few vegetables, when they are grown. Make sure they are eating." Pamela has eaten little of the pizza.

But that seems to be leveled by the fact that Harley has eaten her share, and some of Pam's share.

"Pam always made sure I was eating in Arkham." Harley explains.

"But don't worry... I saved room for popcorn." She grins.

Even a God Can Need a Friend [Open to friends]

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