FicWad

The going rate for nostalgia trips down memory lane these days is far too cheap, and the destination, like every other run-down, tackily re-imagined tourist trap, tends to be inaccurate and worse than no substitute at all. Appetite aside, Utgard-Loki makes a horrible Narugami, for instance, and also makes your little shack look even more shabby and crowded by his muted presence, where Narugami would have filled the room with noise and rubbish until he was thrown out and the environment much bettered thereby.

You're fairly certain Utgard-Loki's not imagining Yamino as a little cat-girl, at least, or so you hope.

As though reading your mind, Utgard-Loki glances up from his book as you enter the room, and then looks a little furtive. His book. Where did he get it? You stop, take in the room again. Is it larger? A bookshelf that wasn't there before fades into the wall. "Did you do something to my house?"

"Your imagination, perhaps," he equivocates. He means his thinking made it so. You look around the expanded space, noting the small comforts he has added. Yamino peers out from the kitchen guiltily; the smells coming from within suggest he is preparing something that would take a much larger space and more appliances than you have. Had.

There's no reason you need to live in a shack, though. It's getting crowded, and really, you never know who else is going to drop by once Yamino has finished with whatever he is cooking. The sky has been rumbling, and you don't honestly know how exactly the world pieces together, what parts have been placed apart and what parts have been resting about the edges, waiting for a space to enter.

"Just put in the library if you really want it," you say, and they both brighten immediately.