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"You're fucking me."

"Not with legs like that."

"Dude."

"What? They're pretty but, you know, you got Jormungandr beat for crushing."

"I meant what you said about Sigyn!"

"Nah, I made that shit up. She's got enough fucked-up in her life. Anyway, you gonna slow down?"

"Nope!"

"Biiiiitch!"

To Jotunheim Simone is running, faster and faster. Running up great Yggdrasil-- or... really, sort of running to the side, and a little down? Maybe within? Between left and right but not to either side? Not through, certainly, not even she can manage that...

The directions of a transcendental transdimensional tree that is the living expression of a subwhorl of the great Spiral can be somewhat odd. Let us say she runs across Yggdrasil, for she certainly does that.

Along the way, she was accompanied by an old friend of the Mask's, and the Mask's creator, Loki. Ratatoskr, the great squirrel who pretended to carry news from Níðhöggr gnawing at the roots to the nameless eagle atop Yggdrasil's highest branches, and instead stirred shit between them, keeping them forever at odds and slowing the destruction of the world tree.

(Simone will punch them both in their respective snoot-equivalents later, putting an end to that nonsense).

At least, she was accompanied by the little king of the sick burns until he proved too slow to follow.

---

Jotunheim... was not entirely a disappointment. Oh, skyscraper-sized giants didn't do much better than actual skyscrapers. Thor's son, Magni, didn't have the hammer that day but was in Jotunheim anyway, to prove himself. He actually won at armwrestling, so she gave him her cell digits. The confused look on his face-- and wringing his sore arm out-- surely had nothing to do with being from an entirely different world, right?

Eh. If I need to look him up... Wait, where did the gods go after Asgard burned? I'll figure it out if I gotta.

The rebuilt (and improved) Hrungnir had gone all of five rounds with her; though the guy whose toe was larger than a skyscraper had been SUCH a pushover. You'd think a dude like that would be able to take a stubbed toe... as long as by stubbed toe, you meant crumpled foot, of course. That guy didn't last a round. Surtr's daughter (and replacement) had shown up, and she made it three rounds before her fires banked.

(But, hey, she was a hottie!)

After that, Sutrsdottir mentioned that the head of the... Thingie? The something, anyway, Logi, was supposed to be a great fighter, but he'd made the castle of Utgard-Loki invisible, such that no one should ever find it. But in doing so, he'd kicked out the nurse of Utgard-Loki-- Elli, the incarnation of old age. And she'd know the back way into the castle if anyone did.

Now Elli? That bitch had a mean right hook. But unlike the norse gods...

Age has no power over the wearer of the Mask-- let alone the MegaMask incarnation.

They traded blow for blow over the rocks and hills of Jotunheim. Trees withered and stones eroded when Elli's strikes fell, and her body was so hard and gnarled that it made Simone's knuckles bleed green. Their impacts shook the world like thunder, like the corpse of great Jormungandr was summoned by the symbolic link to Simone's huge muscles in motion and thrashed around the battlefield.

But it wasn't until Simone got the ancient into a bow and arrow hold that she actually screamed out, "What... do... you... want?"

"... I didn't say?"

"NO!"

Embarrassed, Simone let her titanic muscles slack just a little. "Uh... can you tell me how to get into the castle of Utgard-Loki?" When Elli snarled at this, Simone curled her great mjolnir-tier fists a bit harder again and added, "I wanna see if that Logi dude will give me a good wrassle."

"... Well. Fine then. The first thing you'll need is a dead chicken, no more than two moons."

"Let me get a pencil."

---

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooffff...."

Logi, though... Logi is a disappointment. Definitely not worth the chicken, the trip through a place that looked like the Hundred Acre Wood met someone's weird-ass idea of what Native Americans were like and took repeated acid through world generation. Like, "Heh. The monsters-- dude. They loooooose shit! Legs! Height! Skin! Noses!" and then dropped some more, you know? Not to mention the nail made of something neither iron nor grown from flesh (has no one here heard of Lee's?) and...

Look, there's a reason she wrote it down, okay?

Simone's left smacks into his armored (but, like, by flab, too) belly and sent him barreling skywards. Roaring, surrounded by the fire he embodies, Logi flares briefly in the sky and she cracks her knuckles. "That it, dude?"

"nnnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOO!" the huge creature bellows, and at least she's treated to a pretty light show on the way down.

Unlike a certain coyote, after all, her umbrella is nuke-proof.

And Logi isn't umbrella-proof. But hey, the umbrella does make all the blood splatter elsewhere, and it's not like the jerk isn't healing fast anyway. That's the only real reason that this fight is taking any time at all.

Not wasting time, Simone lets him slide off her green umbrella before making it poof. He hits the ground with a great thud, and then she thuds him with her foot, right in the left kidney. The fight goes downhill from there.

Now, the big bastard gets a few knocks in, it's true. Little blue Yggdrassil eagles, each with a Veðrfölnir of their own, circle around her head at least twice, and once, her bell literally rings when he gets a solid punch in.

Then she hits him with the bell. It's a big freaking bell!

But Simone is substantially stronger than Logi, for all he is fire, "untamed," and all that bullshit. And he might be taller, but his spindly little legs aren't even as broad-built as her arms in the first place, and the divine chaos that runs through her thewy limbs is far more preeminent than his one trick pony. Other than how hard it was to pull her fist out of his throat when it stuck in there-- "Eugh. Dude. Really?"-- there's just not much heft in his mottled hide.

Eventually though, a solid jab up at his chin knocks him left, and her right arm arcs around to slam one more time into his heavily bruised belly. If Logi had been a superhuman, even an omega-grade one like that other hottie, the possible sailor doctor, it would have ruptured things that would not be easy for even divine-demonic ichor to heal. But as a living embodiment of hungry flame, it was just sufficiently damaging and sufficiently humiliating that the giant staggered back...

And nearly collapses, with only a palm blackening the green grass to stop. The other, trembling, is still raised at her... In clear submission. "Please!" he groans. "I surrender!"

Immediately she jumps up in her high-V victory pose. Colossal arms, lightly covered with a sheen of sweat and heavily covered with rugged, burly muscles, raise high to either side of her head, displaying the unparalleled power of her megazonian body. "OOOOHHHH YEAH!" she roars. Her voice rumbles and crackles over the land. Jotunheim, now, as well as Midgard, has fallen to her, and her voice reigns supreme.

Smirking down at the humbled jotun, Simone nods, her head bobbing to the left and right and back again, as though to acknowledge a cheering crowd surrounding the ring of stones. Then she wrinkles her nose and huffs. "C'MON. DUDE. REALLY? ELLI WAS TOUGHER THAN THIS!"

"Sh-she's old age! It's what she does, miss, bring all low!"

Myths. Can't live with them, can't even kick some sense into them. For a moment, she debates kicking the bowed giant, right in his chin. For the disappointment. For the disgusting attempt at devouring her arm.

Because a little voice, wicked, nasty, and cruel, is telling her to, in the back of her mind.

Rolling her eyes at mask-spirit and Logi alike, she growls, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE BUFFEST, THE MIGHTIEST WARRIOR OF THE THINGIE?"

Pathetic. Her once-proud opponent's cheeks stain with tears and his eyes are wild with confusion. All he can do is stammer, "That's the Thing, m-m-miss!"

Ohhhh, right, the Thing. Really? The Thing? Shouldn't he be orange and tougher, then, with a Bronx accent.

Unimpressed by this information, the lack of Mama Grimm's blue-eyed-baby-boy, or maybe that Sharon Ventura numminess, Simone shakes her head. "EH, ALTHINGS ARE THE SAME THINGS TO ME!" And with that..

She did kick him, but only so he rolled backwards down the hill like a living tumbleweed. "CLEAN THE PLACE UP A BIT, AND GET SOME CELL TOWERS PUT IN!" she roared after him.

"I'LL BE BACK."

Time to return home. The day needs to come to an end, and, in a very real sense...

Even the sun fears to set before Simone is ready.

---

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Commission for nearing its completion! Frankly, she got pretty epic over Jotunheim. Just awesomesauce. You really should have been there. This is just a tribute. Ya gotta believe us..

Description
"You're fucking me."

"Not with legs like that."

"Dude."

"What? They're pretty but, you know, you got Jormungandr beat for crushing."

"I meant what you said about Sigyn!"

"Nah, I made that shit up. She's got enough fucked-up in her life. Anyway, you gonna slow down?"

"Nope!"

"Biiiiitch!"

To Jotunheim Simone is running, faster and faster. Running up great Yggdrasil-- or... really, sort of running to the side, and a little down? Maybe within? Between left and right but not to either side? Not through, certainly, not even she can manage that...

The directions of a transcendental transdimensional tree that is the living expression of a subwhorl of the great Spiral can be somewhat odd. Let us say she runs across Yggdrasil, for she certainly does that.

Along the way, she was accompanied by an old friend of the Mask's, and the Mask's creator, Loki. Ratatoskr, the great squirrel who pretended to carry news from Níðhöggr gnawing at the roots to the nameless eagle atop Yggdrasil's highest branches, and instead stirred shit between them, keeping them forever at odds and slowing the destruction of the world tree.

(Simone will punch them both in their respective snoot-equivalents later, putting an end to that nonsense).

At least, she was accompanied by the little king of the sick burns until he proved too slow to follow.

---

Jotunheim... was not entirely a disappointment. Oh, skyscraper-sized giants didn't do much better than actual skyscrapers. Thor's son, Magni, didn't have the hammer that day but was in Jotunheim anyway, to prove himself. He actually won at armwrestling, so she gave him her cell digits. The confused look on his face-- and wringing his sore arm out-- surely had nothing to do with being from an entirely different world, right?

Eh. If I need to look him up... Wait, where did the gods go after Asgard burned? I'll figure it out if I gotta.

The rebuilt (and improved) Hrungnir had gone all of five rounds with her; though the guy whose toe was larger than a skyscraper had been SUCH a pushover. You'd think a dude like that would be able to take a stubbed toe... as long as by stubbed toe, you meant crumpled foot, of course. That guy didn't last a round. Surtr's daughter (and replacement) had shown up, and she made it three rounds before her fires banked.

(But, hey, she was a hottie!)

After that, Sutrsdottir mentioned that the head of the... Thingie? The something, anyway, Logi, was supposed to be a great fighter, but he'd made the castle of Utgard-Loki invisible, such that no one should ever find it. But in doing so, he'd kicked out the nurse of Utgard-Loki-- Elli, the incarnation of old age. And she'd know the back way into the castle if anyone did.

Now Elli? That bitch had a mean right hook. But unlike the norse gods...

Age has no power over the wearer of the Mask-- let alone the MegaMask incarnation.

They traded blow for blow over the rocks and hills of Jotunheim. Trees withered and stones eroded when Elli's strikes fell, and her body was so hard and gnarled that it made Simone's knuckles bleed green. Their impacts shook the world like thunder, like the corpse of great Jormungandr was summoned by the symbolic link to Simone's huge muscles in motion and thrashed around the battlefield.

But it wasn't until Simone got the ancient into a bow and arrow hold that she actually screamed out, "What... do... you... want?"

"... I didn't say?"

"NO!"

Embarrassed, Simone let her titanic muscles slack just a little. "Uh... can you tell me how to get into the castle of Utgard-Loki?" When Elli snarled at this, Simone curled her great mjolnir-tier fists a bit harder again and added, "I wanna see if that Logi dude will give me a good wrassle."

"... Well. Fine then. The first thing you'll need is a dead chicken, no more than two moons."

"Let me get a pencil."

---

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooffff...."

Logi, though... Logi is a disappointment. Definitely not worth the chicken, the trip through a place that looked like the Hundred Acre Wood met someone's weird-ass idea of what Native Americans were like and took repeated acid through world generation. Like, "Heh. The monsters-- dude. They loooooose shit! Legs! Height! Skin! Noses!" and then dropped some more, you know? Not to mention the nail made of something neither iron nor grown from flesh (has no one here heard of Lee's?) and...

Look, there's a reason she wrote it down, okay?

Simone's left smacks into his armored (but, like, by flab, too) belly and sent him barreling skywards. Roaring, surrounded by the fire he embodies, Logi flares briefly in the sky and she cracks her knuckles. "That it, dude?"

"nnnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOO!" the huge creature bellows, and at least she's treated to a pretty light show on the way down.

Unlike a certain coyote, after all, her umbrella is nuke-proof.

And Logi isn't umbrella-proof. But hey, the umbrella does make all the blood splatter elsewhere, and it's not like the jerk isn't healing fast anyway. That's the only real reason that this fight is taking any time at all.

Not wasting time, Simone lets him slide off her green umbrella before making it poof. He hits the ground with a great thud, and then she thuds him with her foot, right in the left kidney. The fight goes downhill from there.

Now, the big bastard gets a few knocks in, it's true. Little blue Yggdrassil eagles, each with a Veðrfölnir of their own, circle around her head at least twice, and once, her bell literally rings when he gets a solid punch in.

Then she hits him with the bell. It's a big freaking bell!

But Simone is substantially stronger than Logi, for all he is fire, "untamed," and all that bullshit. And he might be taller, but his spindly little legs aren't even as broad-built as her arms in the first place, and the divine chaos that runs through her thewy limbs is far more preeminent than his one trick pony. Other than how hard it was to pull her fist out of his throat when it stuck in there-- "Eugh. Dude. Really?"-- there's just not much heft in his mottled hide.

Eventually though, a solid jab up at his chin knocks him left, and her right arm arcs around to slam one more time into his heavily bruised belly. If Logi had been a superhuman, even an omega-grade one like that other hottie, the possible sailor doctor, it would have ruptured things that would not be easy for even divine-demonic ichor to heal. But as a living embodiment of hungry flame, it was just sufficiently damaging and sufficiently humiliating that the giant staggered back...

And nearly collapses, with only a palm blackening the green grass to stop. The other, trembling, is still raised at her... In clear submission. "Please!" he groans. "I surrender!"

Immediately she jumps up in her high-V victory pose. Colossal arms, lightly covered with a sheen of sweat and heavily covered with rugged, burly muscles, raise high to either side of her head, displaying the unparalleled power of her megazonian body. "OOOOHHHH YEAH!" she roars. Her voice rumbles and crackles over the land. Jotunheim, now, as well as Midgard, has fallen to her, and her voice reigns supreme.

Smirking down at the humbled jotun, Simone nods, her head bobbing to the left and right and back again, as though to acknowledge a cheering crowd surrounding the ring of stones. Then she wrinkles her nose and huffs. "C'MON. DUDE. REALLY? ELLI WAS TOUGHER THAN THIS!"

"Sh-she's old age! It's what she does, miss, bring all low!"

Myths. Can't live with them, can't even kick some sense into them. For a moment, she debates kicking the bowed giant, right in his chin. For the disappointment. For the disgusting attempt at devouring her arm.

Because a little voice, wicked, nasty, and cruel, is telling her to, in the back of her mind.

Rolling her eyes at mask-spirit and Logi alike, she growls, "I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE BUFFEST, THE MIGHTIEST WARRIOR OF THE THINGIE?"

Pathetic. Her once-proud opponent's cheeks stain with tears and his eyes are wild with confusion. All he can do is stammer, "That's the Thing, m-m-miss!"

Ohhhh, right, the Thing. Really? The Thing? Shouldn't he be orange and tougher, then, with a Bronx accent.

Unimpressed by this information, the lack of Mama Grimm's blue-eyed-baby-boy, or maybe that Sharon Ventura numminess, Simone shakes her head. "EH, ALTHINGS ARE THE SAME THINGS TO ME!" And with that..

She did kick him, but only so he rolled backwards down the hill like a living tumbleweed. "CLEAN THE PLACE UP A BIT, AND GET SOME CELL TOWERS PUT IN!" she roared after him.

"I'LL BE BACK."

Time to return home. The day needs to come to an end, and, in a very real sense...

Even the sun fears to set before Simone is ready.

---

Prev
Next

Commission for nearing its completion! Frankly, she got pretty epic over Jotunheim. Just awesomesauce. You really should have been there. This is just a tribute. Ya gotta believe us..