Dr. Donald Blake & Thor Odinson

Thor woke up on Friday morning with a warm weight draped across his chest, a weight that gave way to the most familiar voice in the world saying, "What the--" and another, much tinier voice protesting, "Watch out!"

His eyes snapped open, and he found himself looking directly into an identical pair, wide with confusion and alarm. Donald Blake, in the flesh.

"This is not supposed to be possible," Thor said, even though what he was thinking was, as it often was, Your face looks wrong when it is not in the mirror.

"Excuse me?" the tiny voice said. "I think I can explain." In unison, Thor and Blake turned their heads to find...an ant, perched upon the pillow as if she owned it.

"The ant is going to explain it to us," Thor told Don. Perhaps saying it aloud would make it less insane.

Hmm. Didn't work.

"Her name is Gudridr," Don said, and then asked the universe, "How do I know that?"

(Elaine: 'Don is Thor's daemon' would totally be the big dramatic reveal in a daemons!AU fanfic.
Me: Well, now I have to do it.
Don: But I'm not an animal, though!
Thor: But I am not a human.)

Don woke up, rolled over to sit up on the edge of the bed, and reached for his walking stick. He raised it up, but before he could bring it back down to summon Thor, he noticed something. Several somethings, stacked against the wall: a rolling suitcase you could hide a body in with FAKE printed all over it in huge letters, a duffel bag labeled FORGOTTEN, bags with WEAK and BORING and MORTAL and even LAME.

"Okay," Don told the pile of bags. "That one's offensive." But he remembered Odin telling Thor that, that he had made Don lame to teach Thor humility, so really the offense was Odin's, which...typical. He hated how much it had stuck in his head.

They are wrong, as well, Thor said. You are not boring, or weak.

"I am fake, though. I mean, I'm real, but I'm also fake."

I say thee nay.

The corner of Don's mouth turned up. Thor had said it like that to amuse him. Then he raised the stick again. "I don't have to deal with it today anyway," he declared, and brought the stick down. Lightning struck, and washed him and his baggage out of reality just as he caught sight of one almost buried in the pile that said VOID-TOUCHED. Oof. Well...

Thor didn't even bother to look at the new pile of parcels that took its place. It would be another load of nonsense, he was sure.

(Don turning into Thor remains NFB, rest of the post is FB. Warning for mild ableism.)

A letter had arrived for Don while they'd been in Quebec: a certified letter from the New York State Education Department, which the receptionist or possibly a Starbucks gremlin had signed for in his absence, and now it was safely in his hands (which did rather point away from the Starbucks gremlins) as he sat on the couch and looked at it.

Odin was dead and unable to hear his prayers. Thor was, invisible to anyone else, sitting beside him on the couch. There was no higher power he could appeal to here, so he said, "Here goes nothing," and opened it.

After several moments of just staring at it, he said, "They reinstated my license." Finally went unspoken, but loud and clear nonetheless.

Congratulations, Dr. Blake, Thor said, and then crushed Don's rising joy by reminding him, Now you must transfer it to Maryland.

The smile that had been forming fell off his face. "That--that can't be as hard, can it? That'll probably just be..." Maybe he could get a job in New York and commute by portal? "I'll figure that out tomorrow."

After doing some research at the visitor's center (and having to do the 'Are you doing an ableism?' stare accompanied by a pointed, "I know what I'm doing, thanks," at a Park Service employee who had been a little too enthusiastic about pointing out which of the trails were easiest), Don had decided to spend today exploring the Fayetteville Trail and some of the smaller trails that were accessible from it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked the scenic view of the gorge he'd paused to admire for a rest break.

( A conversation with a ghost. )

Don took another moment to admire it and drink some more water before he kept going with his hike.

(Open to anyone else out in the woods today!)

Don was eating breakfast when his phone rang, and a quick glance revealed an Albany area code, which meant it could be only related to one matter. He sent up a quick prayer that they were calling to tell him his license was all sorted out before he answered.

( Of course he wasn't that lucky. )

Don sighed and scrolled in his contacts to 'Jane (Thor)' and made a quick phone call before he started looking up last minute flights to Albany.

Don had heard that, legally speaking, coming back from the dead was one of the most complicated pains in the neck you could ever have to deal with, or at least that it was outside of New York. In New York, they had legal resurrection down to a science: you went to the third floor of the Manhattan DMV as soon as it opened, and you asked for Roberta.

When it was his turn to approach Roberta's desk, she asked without looking away from her computer, upon which she was typing furiously, "How can I help you?" like she didn't really want to help him, but she'd do it anyway. Don was honestly a little intimidated. Thor liked her immediately, and said so.

Don ignored him and told her, "I died." This got him merely a hum of acknowledgment, and he added, in the interests of full disclosure, "And I maybe...was wiped from reality."

( You know, just normal things. )

(Establishy! NFB/NFI due to not being on the island yet!)

"You have reached the voicemail of Thor. Leave your message after the tone."

BEEP!