By challenge, EbolaBooze will be writing a Thor/Volstagg pairing. Unfortunately this was not written under the influence of a copious amount of alcohol.
It haunted him. Distracted him in his daylight hours and troubled him at night.
He had travelled with him for many years, through countless adventures and a myriad of foes, standing triumphant over all of them. He hated to see him like this, a warrior of the realm gone to seed, muscles that were once corded like braided steel replaced with a paunch and an eating problem.
They had been out on campaign for weeks now, and it wasn’t just the fact that their supplies were diminishing at an obscene rate that prompted him. He needed to help him. Volstagg needed an intervention, and Thor would do anything it took to help his friend.
“Volstagg! I would have words with you.” Thor declared as he entered Volstagg’s tent.
“Thor! My friend!” Volstagg’s eyes lit up with joy as he saw Thor, gesturing at him to sit down with a half-eaten leg of the local fauna.
“Really Volstagg? We ate not an hour ago!” Thor leaned in and grabbed him by the tunic, drawing him close enough to see that there was not a speck of food on Vostagg’s impeccably groomed beard.
“Have you ever wondered why I eat so much, Thor?” Volstagg asked, unable to make eye contact. “Years, I’ve cast my gaze over you, and I have never been able to bring myself to admit my feelings for you!”
Thor steeled himself. After all, he did promise himself that he would do anything t-
A hand reached over and slammed the notebook shut. “Gungnir is not an appropriate way to describe that! Augh!”
“Oi! What was that for, Hogun!?”
“I read ahead! If you’re so keen on scarring yourself more than any beast or demon possibly could, be my guest!”
The notebook was gingerly opened once more.
“…I think my future children will be born blind just from my having read this.”
“…You’re sure the Lady Sif wrote this?” Fandral gingerly held the notebook by two fingers away from him as if the minimal contact and distance would help erase the images from his mind. Alas, this was not to be.
“Look, her name is on the inside cover. The only other person that I could think of doing this is Loki, and he’s dead!” Hogun said whilst leaning away from Fandral, as if merely being the last person to touch the cursed object was enough to be infected with some horrendous disease.
“Well.” Volstagg opened and shut his mouth a few times, as if about to start a sentence and thinking better of it. “It’s certainly… Lurid? Is that the word I’m looking for?”
“Depraved and debauched, maybe.” Hogun responded, a bad taste in his mouth. Bile. That’s the ticket. “Thor must never know of this. Ever. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Agreed!” was the declaration. Said notebook was left behind at the table, forgotten in their rush to make a tactical retreat. The Warriors Three never ran. Certainly not.
In the wake of their hurried departure, a figure cloaked in green sat down in their place, a gloved hand waving over the notebook, pages flapping open to where the narration thankfully stopped.
“Oh my. Tsk, tsk, Lady Sif. This certainly won’t come back to haunt you at all.”
FUCKIN’ FIN, BITCHES.
Stay not throwing up in your mouths a little, my friends.