#gorm the old

[thepastisalreadywritten]

COPENHAGEN, Denmark (AP) — Denmark’s prime minister proclaimed Frederik X as king on Sunday after his mother Queen Margrethe II formally signed her abdication, with massive crowds turning out to rejoice in the throne passing from a beloved monarch to her popular son.

Margrethe, 83, is the first Danish monarch to voluntarily relinquish the throne in nearly 900 years.

Many thousands of people gathered outside the palace where the royal succession was taking place, the mood jubilant as the Nordic nation experienced its first royal succession in more than a half-century, and one not caused by the death of a monarch.

Wearing a magenta outfit, Margrethe signed her abdication during a meeting with the Danish Cabinet at the Christiansborg Palace, a vast complex in Copenhagen that houses the Royal Reception Rooms and Royal Stables as well as the Danish Parliament, the prime minister’s office, and the Supreme Court.

Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen next proclaimed Frederik king from the balcony of the palace before thousands of people — subjects of a kingdom where the trappings of royalty are mostly symbolic in today’s modern era of constitutional democracy.

Frederiksen read the proclamation three times, which is the tradition, as Frederik stood beside her wearing a ceremonial military uniform adorned with medals.

He was then joined on the balcony by new Queen Mary and the couple’s four children, and the crowd spontaneously sang the national anthem.

“My hope is to become a unifying king of tomorrow,” Frederik said. “It is a task I have approached all my life.”

“I want to return the trust I meet. I need trust from my beloved wife, you and that which is greater than us,” the new king said.

Frederik then kissed Mary and another great cheer rose from the crowd.

The abdication document was earlier presented to Margrethe as she sat at a massive table covered in red cloth around which royals and members of the Danish government were seated.

Frederik sat beside her.

After signing it, Margrethe rose and gestured to Frederik to take her place.

“God save the king,” she said as she left the room.

The abdication leaves Denmark with two queens: Margrethe keeps her title, while Frederik’s Australian-born wife becomes Queen Mary.

Frederik and Mary’s eldest son Christian, 18, has become crown prince and heir to the throne.

Christian handed Margrethe her walking stick as she departed from her abdication ceremony.

Citing health issues, Margrethe announced on New Year’s Eve that she would step down, stunning a nation that had expected her to live out her days on the throne, as is tradition in the Danish monarchy.

Margrethe underwent major back surgery last February and didn’t return to work until April.

Even the prime minister was unaware of the queen’s intentions until right before the announcement.

Margrethe had informed Frederik and his younger brother Joachim just three days earlier, the Berlingske newspaper wrote, citing the royal palace.

People from across Denmark gathered outside parliament, with many swarming streets decorated with red-and-white Danish flags.

Several shops hung photos of Margrethe and Frederik, while city buses were adorned with smaller Danish flags as is customary during royal events.

Many others across the kingdom of nearly 6 million people followed a live television broadcast of the historic event.

The royal guards’ music band made their daily parade through downtown Copenhagen, but wore red jackets, instead of their usual black, to mark major events.

Copenhagen resident Rene Jensen, wearing a replica of a royal robe and a bejeweled purple crown on his head, said that he expected Frederik to be “a king for the nation, representing us everywhere.”

The last time a Danish monarch voluntarily resigned was in 1146, when King Erik III Lam stepped down to enter a monastery.

Margrethe abdicated on the same day of January that she ascended the throne following the death of her father, King Frederik IX, on 14 January 1972.

Denmark’s monarchy traces its origins to 10th-century Viking king Gorm the Old, making it the oldest in Europe and one of the oldest in the world.

Today, the royal family’s duties are largely ceremonial.

Australians also turned out on the streets of Copenhagen to celebrate one of their own becoming queen.

“I think it’s good that she’s not from royalty and has a normal Australian background. We can relate more to that, because she’s from a middle-class background, and we are too,” said Judy Langtree, who made the long journey from Brisbane with her daughter to witness the royal event.

A survey — commissioned by Denmark’s public broadcaster DR — published Friday showed that 79% of the 1,037 people polled by the Epinion polling institute said that they believed Frederik was prepared to take the reigns and 83% said they thought his wife Mary was ready to become queen.

The survey margin of error was 3 percentage points, DR said.

[muppenthings]

Dropping octomer's name.

Gorm.

An Irish and Scottish Gaelic word for "blue".

He's only shocked to hear the name again, thus him going "silent".

[lovromajers]

I fear its looking less like 5 wins and more like 15 losses....

[mangosrar]

call it what you want part9

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

MY TAGLIST STILL ISNT WORKING 🫠🫠🫠

6 days. it has been 6 days since you had spoken to matt. he had turned up at your house on monday morning to take you to school. but you had decided on sunday night you weren’t going. you couldn’t face him. you didn’t want to.

he showed up again tuesday. and when you didn’t even tell him to leave, he knocked on your door to be met with nothing. he stood out there for a whole 17 minutes before accepting defeat and leaving.

wednesday, the same story. he showed up, you didn’t come out. he knocked. no answer. he left.

thursday he even went as far as knocking, getting no answer and then sitting outside, repeatedly pressing the horn for almost 4 minutes straight, and then eventually giving up.

but when friday rolled around, matt sent an alliance to your door.

“y/n. it’s me open up” you heard him say. his voice was muffled from the thick wooden barrier between you both.

you stood staring at the door, contemplating wether to open it or not, like you had every day this week. you knew matt would turn up but this wasn’t his fault. he didn’t deserve to be shut out because of his piece of shit brother.

you sighed before reluctantly opening the door, coming face to face with the one person who knows you best. chris sturniolo.

“oh y/n” he breathed, frowning at your state as he stepped inside.

your hair was a mess, and dark circles donned your eyes. your face was pale, like you were sick.

“how you feeling?” he questioned looking down at you. it was a really stupid question. he could tell you were doing terribly just by looking at you, but he would never admit that out loud.

you just shrugged and looked down at your feet. chewing on your lip. there was no way to even put into words how you’ve been feeling. so for a lack of a better term, fucking horrible.

“i don’t know exactly what happened… but matts doing terrible too” he stated.

“i bet he is chris” you replied sarcastically. rolling your eyes.

“he’s been asking about you every day, he even tried talking to caden at school. he’s a mess y/n” chris sighed. looking at you with pleading eyes.

“you can go back to hating him, but i think you should just talk to eachother, it would be a waste for things to end like this” he told you.

there was an internal battle going on inside your head. part of you was a little warm inside over the fact he was worried and asking after you, the other part was enraged over the fact he had the audacity to be upset over his own actions. he deserved to dwell in your absence. why should you forgive him. he had hurt you and he had to live with that.

chris stood there, watching the cogs turn in your head. he knew you were stubborn, but he also knew his brother was 10 times more stubborn, so the fact that he was willing to admit he was wrong and do everything in his power to get you to listen, was shocking.

“is he outside?” pointless question. you knew he was.

chris nodded, standing infront of you with his arms by his sides.

you took in a breath before muttering.

“give me 15 minutes”.

-

the whole car ride was uncomfortable. chris had forced you into the passenger seat and it made you want to grab the wheel and run the car off the road, but you decided against it.

luckily for you, matt had used his common sense. he look one look at you and kept his mouth shut, just offering a small smile to witch you did not return.

he didn’t deserve it. he did not deserve the satisfaction of thinking there was any chance you were ever going to forgive him. because as far as you were aware, you weren’t going to.

up until 2 weeks ago you and matt couldn’t stand the sight of each other, so after 14 days of slightly less hatred, going back to your old ways wouldn’t harm anyone.

“i’m gonna give you two time to talk” chris muttered, opening the car door and stepping out.

you hadn’t even realised you had arrived at school. the whole way there you had been aimlessly gorming out the window, trying to stop yourself from screaming.

you wanted to get out of the car and sprint in the opposite direction. there was no way matt could justify himself, but you at least wanted to hear whatever sorry excuse he would come up with, so you stayed put.

there was an abundant pause, the both of you just sitting there. you couldn’t even look at him out of fear you might just slap him across the face there and then, but you could feel matts eyes burning into the side of your head as you stared out of the front window with your arms crossed.

matt turned his body towards you, opening his mouth to speak, but the words got caught in his throat, he didn’t even know what he would say. he sighed before dropping his head.

“i’m sorry” he mumbled.

his eyes wandered back up to your face, and when you didn’t even flinch, he continued.

“there’s no excuse for what i said. it was so fucked up. and i don’t think what i said is true y/n. i don’t think you’re damaged and i don’t think you’re weak. i was just something i said out of anger, but that isn’t an excuse. angry or not i shouldn’t have said it” he stated softly. like the distinct tone of his voice would determine how this was going to go.

“i showed up every day this week trying to get you out of the house y/n, does that not show you how sorry i am?” he added.

“oh so you showing up, and banging on my door for 15 minutes every morning makes it okay?” you spat at him. still not looking at his face.

“no, no of course not but… i’m trying y/n, i’m really trying” he sighed.

you just shook your head, keeping your eyes trained forward.

matt swallowed, eyes darting across the side of your face, frantically trying to read your mind.

“if i could go back in time and change what i said i promise i would” he whispered, leaning over the centre console slightly.

he didn’t know why he was beating himself up so much. he’s said stuff like this before with out even batting an eyelid, so why now?

his heartbeat quickened when you slowly craned your neck to face him.

there was a blank look spread across your features that he couldn’t place.

you took in a breath, and blinked at him, pursing your lips before speaking.

“go fuck your self” and with that you were shoving the car door open and getting out.

you could hear him calling after you but you didn’t care. you continued marching across the parking lot towards the school doors. leaving him there once again to wallow in the knowledge that he had hurt you to an extent that was fucking unforgivable.

-

“nope. not happening” chris said.

“why chris? this is a good way for me to stay calm” you whined.

“turning to drugs and getting high is a bad way to deal with your emotions y/n” he tutted.

“you do it. so what you’re saying is that you are bad at dealing with your emotions?” you quirked. coming to a stop when chris got to his locker.

“deflecting is not gonna get you what you want” he spoke, looking at you briefly with a flat expression before turning back to his locker.

“ughhh, look, i’m dealing with my emotions. i’m sad and i’m angry at your brother. i know how i feel. i just wanna smoke so i can take the edge off” you said shrugging.

he shook his head slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line, standing his ground.

“come on chris” you whispered, looking up at him with big round eyes.

he sighed before closing his locker and turning to you.

“i’ll let you smoke under one condition” he stated.

you nodded your head excitedly and grinned waiting for him to continue.

“you have to come to that party on sunset” he smiled sarcastically.

you hated parties and chris knew that, so if he asked you to go, he knew you would refuse, and that would be his get out of jail free card as to not let you get high.

he blinked at you with a smirk on his face, because in his head neither of you were gonna get what you wanted.

“okay” you shrugged.

“‘okay’?” he exclaimed, “you’ll go?”

“yeah why not, maybe i’ll find another dark tattood, handsome man to sweep me off my feet” you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“so what you’re saying is that you think matt is handsome and he swept you off your feet?” he giggled, wiggling his eyebrows back.

your face dropped and you swatted his arm, trying to hide your smile, he just dodged you, carrying on laughing as he walked down the hall with you trailing behind.

-

“ok but if i wear the black one the shoes won’t match” you ranted holding the shirt up to your chest in the mirror.

this had been going on for about an hour. nick ans chris had been sat on your bed, waiting for you to get ready.

at first you were all listening to music, talking and laughing, but by the time you had re applied your makeup for the second time, and re curled your hair for the third time, chris had gotten bored and fallen asleep, and nick had just simply lost interest and started staring at the wall.

“i don’t wanna wear these shoes”

“the white shirt is so cute though”

“but the sleeves are weird”

“i’m not going”

“y/n!” nick yelled, snapping you out of your frenzy and waking chris up.

you turned to him with wide eyes at his sudden outburst.

“we were supposed to leave an hour ago, wear the black shirt with the white shoes” he breathed, closing his eyes, briefly before opening them and looking at you with a hard stare.

“fine” you replied, rolling your eyes and stomping over to your bathroom to change.

“what if matts there?” you yelled through the door, pulling your shirt over your head.

“he won’t be” chris yelled back.

you didn’t say anything else as you straightened the top out and fixed your hair. there was a small tiny microscopic piece of you that wished he would be there. not so you could talk or anything. just so he could see you enjoying yourself, but the way this night was going. you highly doubted you would.

-

the strong smell of alcohol and weed wafted through the air as you made your way through the house, chris close on your tail.

there were people everywhere some of wich you recognised, some you didn’t, all sandwiched together, and it only made you question why people enjoyed parties more.

you had been here for almost an hour now and you hadn’t left chris’s side once. he had been catching up with some old friends who moved town when they were younger, but you just stood quietly scoping the area.

so far you we’re safe. no matt. no elijah. and you hoped it would stay that way, partially.

“hey i’m gonna go grab a drink” you said, pulling on chris’s arm to get his attention.

he nodded, and started saying his goodbyes to his friends, telling them he would see them later, indicating he was coming with you.

there was a large table in the middle of the kitchen, full of alcoholic drinks and right now, to you, it looked like it was glowing.

“you’re drinking?” chris questioned with his eyebrows pinched together.

“yeah why not?” you shrugged, reaching for the vodka bottle and a red solo cup.

“whatever just….don’t get too drunk” chris laughed, but his voice carried a warning tone.

you just rolled your eyes before pouring both you and Chris a shot, and handing him the cup.

“here’s to, handsome dark tattooed men, aka matt” Chris laughed before bringing the cup up to his mouth.

you just shook your head, smiling before also taking the shot.

your face scrunched up at the taste in your mouth, it was horrible. but the feel of it burning in your chest was thrilling.

you never really drank. sure you’d had alcohol before, but always in an environment where you were comfortable, like you’re own house while your parents were asleep, or nicks room while his parents were away for the weekend, never in the heat of a raging house party.

“hey, i’m gonna use the bathroom i’ll be right back” chris said, raising his voice slightly over the music.

you just hummed a reply before watching him walk away, and then turning back to the table of drinks.

fireball.

you poured the shot and downed it instantly. better than vodka, still gross.

one more couldn’t hurt.

you poured the shot again, bringing it to your lips, and just as the hot liquid entered your mouth. a voice appeared behind you.

“thirsty?”

fuck.

you ignored him completely, bringing the cup back down and placing it on the table.

“didn’t think i’d see you here, this isn’t really your scene” he told you, coming around to the side of you and leaning on the table.

you ignored him again, pouring yet another shot.

“then again, matt sturniolo isn’t really your scene, somehow you’re all over him” he muttered in a low voice, and from the corner of your eye, you saw him looking around.

he was just as paranoid as you were.

“who i’m all over is none of your business anymore elijah” you sighed, turning to him and smiling sarcastically. but someone else caught your eye.

a dark, tattooed, handsome man who could easily sweep you off your feet.

he was watching you. his gaze strong and jaw clenched. and suddenly elijahs voice became a ringing in your ears.

you could have crumbled there and then, he looked good. his tattoos on full display, slight stubble growing, that you had noticed this morning but you were too fucking angry to register it.

his eyes stayed locked on yours, daring you to look away, and when you didn’t, he pushed off the wall he was leaning on, and sauntered over to you.

“….and as far as i’m awar-“

“hey baby” matt cooed, cutting elijah off and wrapping an arm around your waist.

you wanted to pull away. you were still angry at him, but for the sake of the act, you stayed put.

elijah scoffed, looking matt up and down like he was scum of the earth.

your eyes darted between the two, waiting in expectancy for one of them to talk.

“you gotta tell me how you do it sturniolo, you’re always there, you know? waiting to pounce every time i talk to her. maybe i should be concerned. are you stalking me?” elijah questioned. he was trying to get under matts skin, and the way he squeezed your waist slightly, told you it was working.

matt laughed slightly, looking off to the side before bringing his eyes back to elijah.

“well if you wasn’t always bothering my girlfriend, i wouldn’t have to be there every time you talk to her” he shrugged, smiling sarcastically at your ex.

matt turned to you, pulling his eyebrows together.

“is he bothering you sweetheart?” he asked.

you just looked at him with wide eyes. silently begging him not to do anything.

yes you and matt hated each other, but you knew him well enough to know he would use any excuse to punch someone. and elijahs face had been served to him on a silver platter.

“i think you’re bothering her Whitlock” he stated, removing his arm from your waist and stepping in front of you.

“matt” you mumbled. he ignored you.

elijah laughed and dropped his head, standing up fully, like he was trying to intimidate matt but the odds were even. there was no turning back now.

when elijah brought his eyes back up, they landed on yours, his gaze was cold and unsettling, but the words that came out of his mouth, didn’t mean half as much to you as they did matt.

“considering she’s such a slut, i don’t think she minds who bothers her”.

oh shit.

——————————————————————————

taglist: @christinarowie332 @biimpanicking @biplrbtch @ukyos @eyelessdemon00 @iheart2021chris @hearts4chris @leah-loves-lilies @whicked-hazlatwhore @1201pm-blog @yourmom-123456789 @mattnchrisworld @leoloveeeee @jazab3lla @martyniukpl @ilovemattstromboli @obsessedwithyou @breeloveschris @skyteller143 @innocentfsin @thatcrazybitch-69 @ihateeveryone357474 @shmophsturniolo @sturns-posts @mattsturnzzz09 @sturnisposts @jenna0rtegaswife @jeffbuckleylvr27 @sara2233445 @sturniolos4lifee @kasiaslayuje @cosmicmistake42069 @24kmar @ikeryn @sleepdeprivedandinsane @lvr444life @travelintheworld @aubreyswift13 @sturniololol @starziick @nickmillersn1gf @beautyb1ade @tommysaxes @sstvrnioloo

[theosconfessions]

Gorm Serneholt for @aniraklova 's The Yasmines Desire BC

Gorm is a 48 year old new york times best seller. for what you ask? well our boy here has a fancy for creating incredibly realistic romance novels that could make even hugh hefner at blush. he started off his career in the adult film industry, as every ny times best seller does, i guess. and his exploits there..and the lack of creative writing really got him thinking.... this stuff is popular anyways but if it had a proper storyline? EVEN BETTER..and then he realized people dont watch his films for the storyline. so he started creating them himself. it was his already present fanbase that helped skyrocket his first book into critical acclaim. was it actually that good? well nope. but hes since approved since then so he can stop using that d to influence people to read his writing. ANYWAYS. how he came across Yasmines BC? well his ex wifey ofc. although their marriage didnt work out they remain amicable..not just for their teenage son..but also because they started off as best friends..and thats what they will remain for the rest of their lives. his ex, evie, was scrolling through simblr one day and seen an ad for yasmines bc come up.she immediately recognized her. not just because anyone would remember a sim that gorgeous but because she once was obsessed with her show 'Talk if you can' with as big of a personality as yasmine has..she had no doubt that she could handle a probably equal big personality of Gorm. Plus she was kinda tired of his lonely self always asking her to wing man. so. :) Gorm has all of his fingers crossed he'll get a shot at love. i mean its been AWHILE. he may write romance but he sure hasnt had it in awhile.

private dl if chosen

[mattbors]

Old Gorm / New Gorm

[betweenblackberrybranches]

Automaton au

Chapter 1: Lost and found

They call it the age of man. It really isn’t. The creatures of old didn’t vanish, they just left the more densely populated areas. Most people didn’t realize that and the scholars and wizards proclaiming the victory of humankind, in the name of the king, certainly do not correct the assumptions of the general public. Stories from the wilder parts of the country are often put off as old tales in the safety of the capital and the surrounding cities and villages. But leaving the safety of the “developed” lands, people still fear and respected the things in the woods. Here the mediator between the Nature and the Humans is still a very much-needed profession. Witches had a bad reputation in the big cities for a long time. Apart from their knowledge in potion brewing, often only rivalled by alchemists, they are generally frowned upon as charlatans, their magic, connected to nature, seen as archaic compared to the sleek and modern magic of wizards. People do not like to be reminded of the outside, of the creatures roaming.

You sigh as you tuck in the silver broche holding your scarf, a sign of your profession, just as much as the much more obvious broad brimmed felted sun hat, you had rolled up and put away earlier. Your mother had gone ahead to look for a carriage that could take you at least somewhat in the direction you were traveling in.  Looking at the flowers next to the dirt road you walk slowly basking in the spring sun, fidgeting with a small stone you had picked up on the way. You feel nervous as you step on the muddy square of the small city, filled with different carts and carriages, the amount of people already threatening to overwhelm you. your mother, outgoing as she is, already made friends with a guy sitting on a carriage filled with various goods, Talking to him while scratching the donkeys already harnessed to pull the cart. She waves as you approach quickly telling you his name and various other facts about him you do not think you will be able to remember. He is willing to let you travel on the back of the cart for a small price. You study his bearded face riddled with crowfeet and his warmly smiling eyes. Well at least he seems trustworthy you think as you thank him for his kindness and sit down in the back while your mother sits in the front, still talking with him about some kind of political topic. As the wagon lazily rumbles over the uneven roads, you take out the letter you had looked at so much the last few weeks, studying it again, as if its meaning could suddenly make sense to you.

[With sadness, we have to inform you that the great wizard Aspodious has passed.

He died soundly in his sleep, which the doctor on sight attributed to his great age.

As you are his relatives, we would like to convey our deepest condolences to your family.

The following page is a copy of his will. The Village chief of Worthwood has been informed and will help you with further inquiries.

Wizard association of the wizard tower. Capital, year 27 of king Gorm the kind, season of last light.]

You grimace at the page, cursing the harsh winter that first hindered the poor currier from delivering this message to the small village you lived in and then making it impossible to travel to the capital at all. It had been so bad the currier himself had to stay with one of the families who had room in their barn because the way back would have been as much as a death sentence, by spring the guy was promised to one of their daughters, Anne, if you remember correctly, they were quite the cute couple actually. You had seen them from time to time in the winter, her eyes had nothing but him in them and he couldn’t stop talking about how strong and good at hunting in the snow she was. A small smile crept on your face. At least some good had come of all of this.

When you had arrived in the capital your granduncle had been buried for a long time, all you could do was lay flowers on his grave and talking to his associates. Not that you actually wanted to attend his funeral on the account of all the wizards that surely littered the occasion.

Looking at the second page of the letter your face immediately scrunches back into a displeased expression.

[As I am old now I look back on my life, I wish I had spent more time with my family as estranged as most of you are from me.

I have not seen my nephew often for a long time, he always struck me as a bright boy though, he and my departed brothers wife I may leave 10 000 gold coins each.

My nephews’ son is a less bright one, followed by misfortune, as it seems. I leave him my small house in the outskirts of Worthwood. I hope this will lead to the foolish boy finally settling down.

I thank my niece for visiting me now and then, showing respect for my research and keeping me company when I was sickly in bed, as happens more often, now that I am old. To her I will leave half of my fortune and my best wishes.

My nieces’ child I have not seen since they were rather small, though they send me their best wishes every time their mother visited. To them I leave everything in my small house in worthwood, 5 000 gold coins and the family curse.

To the Wizard tower I leave half of my fortune, in memory of my happy life from apprenticeship under my late master, to the upper ranks of wizard kind.

Follow my wishes as stated in this document. Grand wizard Aspodius. Capital, year 27 of king Gorm the kind, season of first harvest.]

Trailing the lines repeatedly, you stare at the stamp, marking the piece of paper as an official document. He left you the family curse.

Leaning back, you look at the sky peeking through the canopy of the trees lining the road, shadows and light trailing over your face slowly.  “This is such a mess…”you mutter. A family curse, most times, is the curse of a bloodline. The cursed one usually gets a vision at some point detailing who in the family will receive it next, and this vision is, after an old custom only revealed after their death.

Lightly bunching up the fabric of your long sleeve, you peer at the deep red marks that had suddenly appeared on your right Arm last winter. At that time you had thought it a rash of some sort and treated it accordingly, generously applying soothing salves of your own making. Now it is somewhat obvious that they are not, they look just too similar to a rather big handprint adorned by sharp tips. As if someone had grabbed you. There was another handprint in the middle of your chest, around where your heart would be.

You did not know the details of the curse and your mother had refused to tell you anything about it. “In due time” she had said. It felt rather violating, having something happen to you but not being told anything about it. Your father had only tried to cheer you up, but couldn’t offer any information either. The family of your mother was rather secretive, both Witches of old and wizards and even nobles littering their ranks, though most of them long dead. Your mother did not like talking of them.

When you were small you had wanted to know more of your mothers family. She seldom told you about them, and when she did, it was rarely more than their names, which had long since slipped your mind.

Wondering which one of your ancestors was responsible for the curse and what exactly it entails, you hover your hands over your chest, rocking slightly back and forth, as you often do when deep in thoughts.

You travel with the old man and his cart for two days, camping under the stars at night. On the morning of the third day you arrive at his destination and part ways. Before you say your goodbyes, he draws you a small map, pointing out the village of Worthwood only laying a few crossroads over, behind some hills.

It still takes you a sizable amount of time getting there, not wanting to exhaust yourself too much you rest at the roadside multiple times eating the rest of the bread and cheese you had brought on this journey. In the late evening, you enter worthwood, barely more than 14 little cottages and bigger farmhouses and barns cluttering a small vale surrounded by the outskirts of the deep forests, only visible because of the rather bright light of the full moon. You remember this place, nothing seems to has changed since the summer you spent here when you were about 5 years old.  Which is quite the feat considering the closeness to the woods, making visits of creatures of old an event of high probability. Their witch must be quite skilled, you think as you follow your mother towards the centre of the vale, maybe the witch would be willing to share some of their wisdom with you.  

Luckily, in the house of the village chief, the light is still burning, when you get there and your mother goes in to talk to him about your arrival. You staying outside, the usual anxiety already welling up just thinking of just going in a strangers house and interrupting their evening.

Your cousin will probably come here a few weeks later, knowing him he probably has some sort of dubious undertaking to take care of, so you had all the time you wanted to look through the things granduncle Aspodius had left to you. Twiddling your thumbs, you look out into the dark of night, leaning back against the house. Well it’s not like you need anything, the 5 000 gold they had handed to you in the capital are more than enough.

He probably only left it to you because he felt bad for you, but you won’t complain, it was rather nice receiving multiple years salaries of a high guard all at once. Especially because you did not make much money, mostly being paid in useful items and food.

As you stare at the treeline in the distance, you squint feeling like something is moving. A shiver goes down your spine. Something is definitely there, but does not approach further than the beginning of the barren fields. Probably a ward and an offering at the beginning of the woods to keep the old ones out but still satisfied. Well at least that is what you would have used to secure this location, you think as your mother finally emerges from the chiefs house.

Exhausted, you and your mother finally open the door to the small farmhouse after lazily strolling the rest of the way in almost complete darkness. As inconspicuous as the outside is, the inside is furnished lavishly.

Neither of you has the energy to look at it closer though as you plop down on the sitting area around the fireplace and immediately fall into a deep slumber.

You dream, it’s one of those dreams where you know that it’s not real, but it still instils a bone chilling feeling in you.

You lay in a meadow, as disembodied hands forcefully hold you down, burning your skin. Above you, the blood red sky is adorned by both Moon and Sun, casting their overbearing light, as you thrash your arms and legs to get free. You hear a sickening array of cracks and flesh tearing. There is no air in your lounges, only blood.

Waking up you take a sharp breath, hands lunging to your chest and try to slowly calming yourself down, slumping over and holding yourself.  Looking up, you see a Cup of tea your mother had left there with a little note on the dark wooden table next to the sitting area.

[I will go to the village chief again to talk about the house, please start going through the things in there and make a list of everything you want and while you are at it try cleaning a little. Mom.]

You smile as you look at the small flower she had scribbled on the note the icy afterimage of your dream slowly fading in the dusty warm morning light falling through thin curtains. You take a sip of the tea. It is ice cold and bitter, but you still down it in one swoop.

Still groggy you find the bucket your mother had brought over from the small well and quickly splash your face with a little water. Braiding your hair back to keep it out of your face, you start working.

You soon realize how dirty the inside of this house truly is. Before you had been tired and marvelling at the fine furniture and other trinkets but now in the daylight the thick layer of dust all but sparkles in the light shining through the spotty windows. After a short search you find a storage room, grabbing a rag and starting to widdle over some of the most prominent surfaces. Now and then you take out your notebook and write down a description of a weird Stone or some tincture that still seems potent when you open it. You do not think that you want any of the furniture, bringing it home would be too much of a hassle, even though you truly love the dark green couch in front of the fireplace, never having seen a couch like it before, claws for feet and wooden carvings of plants and beasts around the back.

Going through the rooms you scratch down a few notes until you stop in a short corridor that had been concealed behind a partition you had slightly shoved to the side to have a closer look. The only thing of note here is a barred off door, definitely ominous but also pretty intriguing, you think to yourself as you shove the little leather bound notebook and pen into one of your pockets. Carefully you lift the thick piece of wood out of its holding places on both sides of the door and prop it up against the wall. Opening the door towards the inside of the room you scan its contents, Old furniture, Dusty crates, some broken parts of a distilling mechanism, nothing of note. Your eyes fall on something toppled over on the floor behind the door after realizing that you can’t open it further. You shriek as you see a leg poking out. Nothing happens. Obviously nothing happens, if there was someone in here they’d be long dead… but finding a corpse wasn’t high on the list of things you had imagined finding in these walls. Warily you take a peak around the corner letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you notice it’s only a wooden puppet. A naked, strangely big wooden puppet, but a wooden puppet none the less. Kneeling down beside it to look at it closer, you talk to it softly, trying to swallow down the creeping feeling of seeing something human shaped, limp on the flow.  

“Hello there, big guy, what are you doing here?”

Sadly the puppet seems to be somewhat broken, missing an arm below the elbow joint, its legs surface splintering strongly and having parts missing. The blue coat of paint is partly scraped off, a deep colour peeking out beneath. The craftsmanship still seems astonishing.

You roll it over to look at its face, a lightly coloured crescent shape filling up half of it. A wide toothy grin and somehow even more wide glass eyes forming a slightly unsettling expression. A Moon, you deduct. Your eyes sparkle as you realize what this is, looking at the connections of the joints and the flat stone surface on a diamond shape in the middle of its chest. Its an old automaton. Nowadays they are more sleek, more refined, but their structure hasn’t changed that much overall. This is certainly a find! Automatons are mostly used for labour these days but it is not unthinkable to find them in entertainment, some nobles even keep them to care for their children. You prop it up and carry it out of the room almost loosing balance when one of its legs momentary gets stuck in the doorframe. Now in the light of a room with actual windows you sit down again to inspect the lifeless wooden body. Most types of automaton have to be filled with magic to a certain extent to come to life. The stone in the centre of its chest acting as its energy reserve. Now it is a darker greyish colour but if magic is inserted it should begin to glow. You always had a fascination with these constructs. You smile, remembering walking all the way to the next city to look at the automatons brought in by the circus or take a peek at the ones in the red light district, respectfully of course. Expectantly you cup the wooden face looking at the fine mechanisms, peeking out under the movable face plate, that probably make it possible for different expressions to be formed. This I such a fine work. Standing up you look back into the storage room searching for any clothing that might belong to the automaton but find nothing. Weird, normally if they are made to resemble the human shape, more or less, they also come with clothes to keep it more… reserved. Looking back at the body on the floor, you ponder; What would it sound like when it is animated? How would it move? It looks quite nimble… Was it an entertainer? You trail your fingers over the enormous hand.

It is obviously broken now, but would it still work if you started it up? You don’t think they can feel pain the same way living things can… at least that’s what you read in a book you once got your hands on, so the missing arm shouldn’t be a big problem.

Is it a good idea to wake a thing locked away in a small storage without knowing if it even works properly? If there is a good reason its locked away? No. Will you do it? Yes. The intrigue is just too much.

You hoover your hand idly over the stone square on its chest wiggling your fingers lightly, drawing out your magic like a happily bubbling spring. It flows directly into the stone, beginning to shimmer in a swirl of a rich yellow and blue as your whole body tingles warmly. A low humming emerging from the torso of the automaton alerts you to your magic working. Drawing back your hand, you sit in front of the body and wait.

A stirring noise and sudden movement startles you and you fall backwards, trying to escape the collision with an arm shooting up in an energetic stretch. Laying on your back like a tortious, you hear a cheerful voice.

“OH! Hello there, you!!! Who are you, little friend? Are you allowed in here? Oh Oh no, where is my arm? That is new, I used to have more arm. the grand wizard will be mad, so mad! He hates repairing me”

The automaton seems rather anxious, pointing at you with the stump of the missing arm.

A large hand drags you up carefully and sets you on your feet, but doesn’t let you go. Looking up the automaton had completely changed colour from a deep blue to a bright yellow; the moon face had become a sun, through triangles peeking out of its sides, forming stylized Sunbeams. You stare in awe. It stares back with a wild smile.

“Oh, well I need an answer or you will have to be expelled! Oh yes, oh yes, Grand wizard Aspodius is very particular about who is allowed in his house after all! And I think you were the one who broke my arm! There is no one here but you, and it certainly was not me! That’s aaawwwwfully rude!”

You gawk dumbfounded as the automaton drags you a few long strides and softly pushes you out of the front door.

“Well I am sure he will be back in a few hours, so if you want to talk to him you should come back when he is home! Good bye little friend!”

He rotates his head to an inhuman degree and waves while closing the door.

From the inside you hear a sigh and then a squeaking.

“OH.. OH no its so messy in here. How is it so messy? Clean up, clean up!”

Quietly you try to open the door again but find it locked. Well great.

---  

Your mother still laughs after you two walked all the way back, your face is beet red by now.

Cryptic as ever she had refused to say anything about the automaton even though the knowing look she exchanged with the chief had clued you in that she very much had something to say about this.

“I am surprised you don’t remember him. You were running after him nonstop when you were small, Don’t be surprised, he can be a little… overwhelming.”

She smiles encouragingly before knocking on the door.  

The Automaton opens the door. A white apron hastily tied multiple times around it.

“OH! Its you! What a nice visit, but your uncle is not here right now!”

“Hello Attendant. I would appreciate if you would let us in and we could talk for a little.”

Your mother does not wait for an answer and pushes straight-ahead into the living space, dragging you behind her.

“Oho the little friend from earlier! I must say I have quite a bone to pick with you, yes I do!”

The automaton …. The attendant wags his finger at you disapprovingly.

You cringe slightly, you definitely do not like being treated as a kid.

Your mother looks around the Room, beaming. “Ah Attendant you did quite a good job, cleaning the place up in the time it took them to get me…” She turns to look at him and creases her face slightly “Why are you naked under the apron?”

“Ah, Well when I woke up I couldn’t find any of my clothing….” A panicked expression flying over the Attendants face as he pulls the apron tighter around himself. “So this troublemaker belongs to you? I thought they were a lowlife of some sort, my apologies.”

He all but hurls himself into an elegant bow that somehow transitions into a handstand.

You giggle, enjoying the silliness as your mother sits down on the couch.

“Would you two sit down too?” Your mother asked in the way that meant it was an order. Both you and him immediately plop down on either side of her. Everyone who knows your mother, knows not to get on her bad side, as nice and caring as she is, when she is angry her cruelness is only rivalled by the most abhorrent tyrants of old.

“Listen Attendant,” She speaks calmly after a short pause “You must have been out of commission for a while… When was Aspodius here the last time?”

The Attendants rays, that had been turning since he sat down stopped suddenly and then started to turn in the other direction.

“Ah … he is staying here right now! He just left this morning to gather some medical herbs in the woods. Yes,yes!”

You look at your mother, as she lets out a strained huff.

“The village chief said that my uncle hasn’t been here for about 12 or so years… He suddenly left one summer and never returned, only sending some money for repairs on the house”

The Rays of the automaton retract into his head only peeking out a little bit as he stares at your mother with horror.

“What? No! that doesn’t…” His hands press into the couch cushions until you hear a ripping noise. His distress is rather clear and you stand up suddenly, wanting to help, to do something.

Your mother shoots you a look. “Please go through Aspodius’ clothing maybe there is something in there that fits our friend here, was rather big large when he was young afterall” You nod walking away in the direction of the Bedroom. she wants to talk to him without you there, you won’t interfere.

The Closet is heavy but old, the only reason that moths haven’t gorged on the fine fabrics inside is the enchantment on the wood itself, keeping away unwanted critters. You pull out a jacket that looks big enough to cover a sizable amount of the attendant. It has a nice Blue and orange chequered pattern on the wide bodice and poufy sleeves striped in two shades of orange. There are pants of the same design with wide legs. Wizards often wear bright colours in outrageous pattern combinations, and your granduncle had been the most wizardly wizard you had ever laid your eyes on, even though you don’t remember anything else about him. For a second you think of keeping this fun looking clothing for yourself, but it is the biggest size available and this would probably just barely fit the big frame of the Attendant. You sigh and walk back towards the main room were your mother still talks to the automaton in a hushed tone, but barely keeping down. Catching what your mother is saying you stop dead in your tracks almost loosing grip on the fabric you are holding.

“Don’t be like that! The curse will run its course, you will not be able to stop it just like that…. He obviously asked us to come here to find something to do with the curse…..No I don’t know more… why? Oh no you won’t I know you have something to do with it. Don’t you get too close to them, I’m watching you!....Yea of course”

Having heard enough to twist the metaphorical knife into your chest you huff slightly as your hand reaches towards the curse markings on your body. It still bothers you incredibly, that your mother won’t tell you anything about the curse, even if her own knowledge in it is lacking, you still want her to. It can’t be that bad considering the ripe age your great uncle reached, without major problems; it is probably not connected to your life-force. You absentmindedly chew on your lip, a bad habit of yours, before you take a few loud steps and enter the room.

You just want to get out of this situation.

“I’m back, found something that might fit. I will go outside for a little, getting some water and whatever I can find in the garden that we can use for dinner!”

Hurriedly you exit the building and step into the garden outback. Making yourself think of anything else but the curse. You try to empty your head by looking at the plants. Considering how long this garden had to be not attended to by the Attendant it was still quite nice, though you immediately realize that you won’t find anything to eat this early in spring. Squatting down you look at some yellow and purple crocuses sprouting out of the patchy grass.

“There you are beansprout!”

The Attendants voice appears eerily close to your ear. You swirl around, catching yourself from falling by propping yourself up with your hands on the wet ground, ending up sitting like a frog about to leap. All you can manage to bring out, a surprised “Ah” looking up at him. He now wears the clothing you brought him instead of the apron, one of the sleeves flopping around while he gestures to wave.

He chuckles softly, creaking slightly like a loose floorboard.

“I did not recognize you at all! Last time I saw you, you were this small!” He pinched his fingers together.

“Well that’s fine I don’t even remember meeting you before.” You mumble and immediately regret as you see his face slightly drooping. “Ah sorry…” You tag on way to late and look away embraced.

“Well it’s fine! Yea, fine! Little friend. We can just become friends again!”

He bows down and offers you his intact hand, his rays turning slowly. You grab it

“Pleased to meet you, Mister Attendant.” You say in your most refined haughty voice, wiggling your head slightly, imitating the nobles from the big cities.

“The pleasure is all mine!” You could swear the grin on his face widened even more as he curtsies.

____

So here is the first chapter! This is from an early draft were Y/N and the Attendant had met before, Y/Ns family had a bigger role in the story and there was a curse... i changed quite a bit around for the comic part of the au maybe ill write more if i have the time and then they would be like different timelines of the same au

[ishipallthings]

Cap-IM Rec Week 2023 (Sat) - Podfic

Hidden Gems, July 22 for @cap-ironman Rec Week!

I'm reccing podfics today - they deserve all the love!

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

[Podfic] Stark's Moving Castle by lomku @oluka read by Juulus @juuls

Steve has the great misfortune of being the eldest son of the family, destined to fail miserably should he ever leave home to seek his fate. But when he unwittingly attracts the ire of the Witch of the Waste, Steve finds himself under a horrid spell that transforms him into a small and fragile man. His only chance at breaking the curse lies in the ever-moving castle in the hills: the Wizard Stark's castle. To untangle the enchantment, Steve must handle the heartless Stark, strike a bargain with a fire demon, and meet the Witch of the Waste head-on. Along the way, he discovers that there's far more to Stark--and himself--than first meets the eye.

[Podfic] "Cold Space, Warm Welcome" by Annie D (scaramouche) @no-gorms read by Renton6echo @renton6echo

Tony’s spent a couple of years flying around the galaxy in his best friend Rhodey’s spaceship the Iron Advance, doing what could perhaps be counted as ‘hero’ work. Among their allies is Steve Rogers, captain of his own crew, with whom Tony has a… potentially friendly relationship. When Steve’s ship is irreparably damaged, Rhodey takes him and his whole crew onto the Iron Advance to recover. Tony’s not at all nervous about this, because so what if this is the first time Steve will see him without the Iron Man armor?

When they finally come to destroy the earth (they'll have to go through you first) [podfic] by AlchemyAlice read by grrreed_pods (quaetzalcoatl)

In which Tony Stark went to boarding school with Bruce Wayne, and the road to becoming a superhero is not smooth.

[Podfic] Touchy Feely by musicalluna @musicalluna read by seleneaurora

After an encounter with Justin Hammer, Tony starts to feel—and act—strangely.

[Podfic] Take Me Out (And Let Me Hold You Tight) by musicalluna @musicalluna read by RsCreighton

Steve daydreams about holding Tony's hand, and Halloween might just be the best chance he's got for making dreams reality.

[Podfic] Breakwater by Captain_Panda read by only_more_love @onlymorelove

When the helicopter hits the water, Captain America and the Winter Soldier both go under. Only the Winter Soldier escapes. By the time Tony Stark and company find Steve Rogers, he's been dead for nearly an hour. Brought back from beyond the brink, Steve is a changed man. Things will never be the same.

[Podfic] The Sound Silence Makes by ladyshadowdrake read by seleneaurora

“We need exactly what we don’t have,” Tony observed, annoyed and tired. He started to giggle and couldn’t stop himself. “Power.” He cast a glance back at the door, sealed shut behind him, and he didn’t foresee the cavalry charging through anytime soon with a generator and a bomb kit. Tony took a deep breath and asked, “How much reserve power does the suit have, J?”

[podfic] Appraise Valuable Assets -> Launce Opportune Navigation (AVALON) by gottalovev @gottalovev read by Albuss

The plan was that no one but Tony would know about the AVALON protocol until it was needed. Steve finds out and he's pissed.

[Podfic] For You I Will (A Thousand Times Remix) by ishipallthings read by SoldiersShield

During Hope and Scott’s wedding reception, Tony asks Steve for a dance. Steve turns him down, but not for the reason Tony thinks.

[Podfic] Bridge Over Troubled Water by vorkosigan @the-vorkosigan read by only_more_love @onlymorelove

After Thanos is defeated, Tony throws a party, like one does. Steve is there, and Tony thinks it's an awesome idea to seduce him, for old times' sake. Things get... complicated.

[Podfic] JentheSweetie's "And Time Can Do So Much" by JenTheSweetie read by Renton6echo @renton6echo

A few years after Steve moved permanently back in time, he started having conversations with Tony again.

Love Is A Masquerade [Podfic] by Mizzy read by paraka (616)

When the Avengers are invited to attend Tony Stark's Annual Masquerade Ball, Steve's hoping Iron Man will be there--after all, he can wear a mask and keep his identity secret. So when Steve recognizes Iron Man's distinctive thighs, Steve is SO sure he's found Iron Man's pilot... He's right, but not in a way Steve would ever have guessed...

Hide Your Love Away, by Sineala, (podfic) by Sineala @sineala read by cookiemom6067 @cookiemom6067 (616)

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever. When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

[PODFIC] How to Date a Robot by Sineala @sineala read by crawfishing (616)

How do you date a robot? Even the twenty-first century doesn't have the answers to every question. Steve will have to figure this one out for himself -- after he politely rebuffs Mr. Stark's interest, of course. Sure, Mr. Stark is handsome, but Steve would rather be with his bodyguard. So when Iron Man agrees to go on a date with Steve, Steve couldn't be happier. He loves Iron Man with all of his heart, and their relationship rapidly grows serious. But why does Mr. Stark hate Iron Man so much? And why in the world is Mr. Stark trying to tear Steve and Iron Man apart?

[Podfic] Flight of Icarus by by Missy_dee811 @laexploradoraaa read by Cathalinareads @cathalinaheart (616)

“Tony,” said Kamala, hurried. “I loaded up some music to give you a little boost,” she said. “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry,” she added. “It’s not mine.” He smiled. I knew I liked you.

[PODFIC] Magnetic North by msermesth by msermesth @msermesth by Pywren @pywren (616)

Tony joins Steve on his post-Secret Empire road-trip-slash-pity-party. Turns out the road home is paved with a lot of arguments and sex.

If you want to check out more Steve/Tony podfics, here is an older podfic rec list of mine. You can also check out @sabrecmc​‘s list and head over to the podficcers’ profiles for more podfic!

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned for more! Here is my tag for previous years’ rec lists.

[carsonian]

Steve/Tony fic recs | theme: "SOFT"

I've read a decent number of SteveTony fics and I wanted to give an indecent amount of love back to the writers who put out such gawrjus pieces. The theme for this list is "SOFT" in capital letters because it's not your average erectile-dysfunction soft but some real silk-scarf soft shit. You know, the classics: the diabetic stuff, the ooey-gooey stuff, the puddle of feelings stuff...

Now I don't want NOBODY saying, girl, I've read that, are you being for real? Because guess what? I am always being for real and these fics are real, and you can always re-read them. So spread the love. Respect!

"There's an App for That" by Annie D (scaramouche) (@no-gorms) - I know you're looking at me and saying, aight look Carsonian, whatchu takin me for? You think I'm some greenhorn mark to put down a flag for SteveTony witout cracking Annie D's stash three times whole? Well, to that I raise: my glass. Cuz samesies. But truuuuust me, this fic is worth the re-read. It is a stroke of genuine AU brilliance that doesn't get the hype it deserves (a billion kudos of hype pls!). Super solid set-up, refreshingly quick lines, the kind of easygoing falling together that is just jazzy to relish. This fic is like a date with an almond huddled inside. Sweet and mushy but with a surprisingly solid bite at its core. Summary goes:

Thanks to the modern gig economy, Steve is the successful owner of a break-up service, i.e. people pay him to break up with their partners for them. One day, he gets the first break-up request for Tony Stark.

😏 Uh-huh. Oh okay. Meet-awkwuuurd time. J.A.R.V.I.S., cue up "Start of Something New" by HSM. 😏

"The First Time I Went Dancing Sober" by schemingreader - This fic is like good wine; it ages like a beauty. This month will make it ten (10!!!) years since it was published but by God does it hold up. It holds me up. Like a firm but comfortable back brace. Summary goes:

Steve Rogers is a great physical therapist who works with sick kids. Tony Stark is a damaged biotech engineering genius who really wants to be one of the good guys.

You.... you know the vibes, don't you? You--uh, you catch the flow? Yeah, you do. C'mon, read this fic and give me a hug, brother. I'll clasp you close and whisper homoerotic sweet-nothings into your ear while we hug, partner. It'll be silly romantic, bro.

"we pick ourselves undone" by laramara (@commandersteverogers) - Another old-but-gold fic. Hang on, read the summary first:

It might appear that award-winning surgeon Tony Stark, the head of neurosurgery at Shield Hospital, well and truly has his life together. Now if he could only figure out how to tell people that his father, world class neurosurgeon Howard Stark, is locked away in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s, devise a way to get Chief Fury off his back for good, and work out what the hell he’s going to do about the weird on-again-off-again thing he has going with the head of cardio, he’d finally have everything sorted.

Now that's what I'm motherfucking talking about. This fic is also ten years old et voilà: a certified historical moment. When I first read this, I thought about quitting fic writing; it's that good. And then I re-read it and life was okay again. Tee El Dee Arr: I want to give this fic a smooch on the mouth and a sincere insurance plan.

"for better or for worse" by earliebirb (@earliebirb) - This is the fic you re-read when you want to remember why you're into Steve/Tony. It's iddy, it's tender, it's achey but beyond all a that, it's SOFT. Soft like whipped cream. Soft like a vanilla ice cream milkshake. Soft like Tony's tush and Steve's tits. R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Summary goes:

Sitting quietly like this, Tony can almost pretend that nothing has happened, that this is just another normal day of Steve waking up in bed next to him. Married and in love with no threat of divorce looming on the horizon. Of course, that is before he catches sight of Steve’s bereft ring finger. He wonders how long it has been since Steve’s ring finger is empty. He wonders if he should start taking off his own, too. He wonders if Steve wants him to take it off.

I know, I know, you're going: Carsonian, wyot the hell, this sounds like angsty stuff. Shhh. Shhhhh. Shhh. I'll get my hand off your mouth just as soon as you start listening. Sport, this is the ooey-gooey stuff. All of the angst is the hot chocolate fudge. It's what makes the milkshake so bloody damn good. Now get da fuck outta here and read this fic!!! Or re-read this fic!!! It's worth it! (Just like Steve & Tony's relationship in the fic, shhh no spoilers.)

Warmest and Brightest by ishipallthings (@ishipallthings) - Naww shuddup I don't want to hear any accusations of favouritism. Yeah I think Jen is aces, but I'm not speaking from a place of bias when I say her fics are aces too. It has been scientifically proven. By Tony. And me. Here's the source. Also, I read this WAYYYY back when, and put it down in my list as "sitcom/hallmark set up with stevetony charm". So if you're into that, you know what to do. And if you're not into that, get da fuck outta here!!! You can not NOT be into that. Okay but if you're seriously not into that, no judgement. Okay, a little judgement. With 100% love. Summary goes:

It’s Christmas Eve, and Tony’s supposed to be getting decorations ready for his and Rhodey’s Christmas bash in their new apartment. Instead, he’s stuck in an elevator with the hot guy from 12A Steve, who doesn’t seem to be in much of a festive mood. It turns out to be a bit of a holiday miracle.

Y'know what else is a miracle? How I got through this fic without kicking my feet up like a gleeful teen in a 2000s romcom. Y'know what else? I totally didn't get through this fic without doing that. Maybe the miracle is in the friends we made along the way 🧑‍🤝‍🧑(that's me n u, babey, holding hands as we watch Steve and Tony debate superior rom-coms into a relationship).

"One Last Christmas" by Captain_Panda - Speakin' of Xmas miracles, here's another fic that is super soft and set during the Christmas holiday period. And YEAH I'll admit it FINE FINE. I'm deffo playing favourites here....but as we all know, I am a Captain_Panda fan first 😤❗, a SteveTony fic enthusiast second. Respect!!! Summary goes:

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch. The year is 2012. Cuddly-as-a-cactus Tony Stark is throwing a Christmas party for his fellow Avengers. It's all going really well--except for Tony, who is quietly succumbing to his own demons.

You see how the summary says "cuddly-as-a-cactus"? Well, it don't matter because the fic will cuddle you anyway. Tony gets cuddles, we get cuddles, the world gets a cuddle. It's all cuddles in here and you best believe I'm weeping at the slumber party. In this fic, the world is soft and rough-edged and love is worth losing for. It's beautiful. Gawly I'm weeping again. Last time I read this fic, I wrote this in my comment and it still holds true.

And that's all she w"rec"ked!

Go forth: SteveTony lovers, fuckers, ambassadors, champions, perverts, freaks, losers, dreamers, legends! Read, re-read, kudo, comment, spread legs and spread love.

[giantologist]

My New Friend Gorm

In which a 7 year old meets a giant for the very first time.

"Get back here!"

"No wonder they call you Fraidy Finch!"

"I think he ran into the woods! Quick, let's get him!"

The boy's eyes stung with tears as he scrambled over rocks and roots, his skinny limbs burning, lungs aching with need for oxygen that his panicked breaths couldn't give them. The shouts were slowly gaining, and his bruises and grazes still pained him from the day before. He was always too slow, and hiding wasn't easy in such a small town where every one of his spots had been uncovered. No matter where he secreted himself to read, they always found him. 'You need fresh air and sunshine!' his mother said to him every day, pushing him over the threshold and into the clutches of his daily bullies. 'Rise above them.'

He could literally, as he was very tall for a boy of his age, but he was also stick thin and oddly bookish, and his family's status gave him no help either. Thus, he resorted to fleeing into the woods, where the children were urged not to venture.

Around a tree. Over a rock. Below a log. Across a stream. His agility far outweighed his speed, but it couldn't get him far enough away. He supposed that he'd have to give up once more, take the beating and get on with his life. Body quivering, chest heaving, he stopped in front of a dark hill, leaning against the warm vertical surface to catch his breath.

"There he is!" A voice called, but he couldn't bear to look. "Hey, rich boy! Come here and stop being such a wimp!"

"Please, no…" He breathed, making himself stand upright. He could tell that the rest of them had caught up with him, like circling wolves. "This isn't fair…"

"Fraidy Finch, you got any money on you?" The leader of the pack asked as the children grew closer. "Ha! Look, he's crying! Aww, you scared, baby? You gonna…cry…?"

A violent rumble shook the ground, and the boy fell to his scraped knees, cowering with his arms over his head. He heard screams of fear, the children fleeing with sheer terror in their shouts, until eventually all that was left was the sound of deep, grumbling breaths.

"I didn't mean to scare your friends, little one."

The rumbling whisper made the boy's hair stand on end, and he slowly straightened up, finding that the wall behind him had moved. He swallowed hard, looking at the empty woodland floor and the scuffed footprints in the detritus. "A-Are you, ah… the giant?" He asked, not looking around, his heart fluttering in a different way than before. Less panicked. More excited.

"Sure am. I was just havin' a snooze, but I don't mind that your playin' woke me up." When the boy slowly pivoted his head, he was greeted by the sight of a hairy, tattooed fist pressed into the soft loam, supporting the bulk above. The very sight of it, larger than a shed, made him shiver with glee. "My name is Gorm. What's yours, little one?"

"J…Jasper." The boy whispered, but cleared his throat after a moment, bending his neck to look so far upward, seeing kind eyes staring back at him. The nights he'd spent in his dark room listening to the faint buzz of a far away voice, watching the moonlight ripple off the surface of his glass of water as distant footsteps pulsed through the ground, sometimes catching a glimpse of a silhouetted form across the expanse of farmland. He never imagined the giant would look so amicable, not after the stories he'd been told. "Jasper Erasmus Finch."

"Oh!" Gorm exclaimed with force, before remembering himself and sheepishly lowering his voice. "I've heard of the Finches. I didn't expect someone like you to be playin' in the woods."

"I wasn't playing, sir. I was being chased." Jasper stood, his legs shaking. When his knee buckled beneath him, he felt a displacement of air ruffle his clothes, a warm and sturdy surface catching him under his behind. He softly gasped at the sturdiness of the finger, wide eyes tracing it all the way up the massive patterned arm and back to Gorm's bearded face. "They like picking on me. If not for you, they would have beat me up again."

The smile quickly shifted to a scowl. "Rotten li'l beasts." He grumbled. "I'll squash them for ya... I'm kiddin', o'course." As he lifted Jasper, the boy wheeled his arms so he didn't slip backward, only to find that another finger was ready to keep him stable behind him. The lurch upward and the wind in his hair made him awfully giddy, and he couldn't help but grin. The expanse of a palm appeared below him, and he nimbly jumped onto the plush surface. "There we go. Don't be afraid, I got ya."

"I'm not afraid." He smiled, taking in every detail of the surrounding hand with utter delight. The urge to study every inch, to map the lines and swirls and channels, was overwhelming. But he'd been taught manners from a very early age, and he knew that it wasn't appropriate. "I sit awake at night listening to you sometimes. When you move around or speak or sing. I have always wanted to see what you are really like." He paused hesitantly, then added "I never wanted to believe the rumours that you're a monster."

Gorm's cheeks coloured slightly, and he settled back against a sturdy oak, making the tree bend with his bulk. "Well, you're here now, you can see me for yourself. Don't believe what people say about giants. A lot of us are nice!" His gaze shifted to the forest behind Jasper. "Although, if I see those bullies again, I don't know how nice I'll be."

With a soft giggle, the boy shuffled to get comfortable, his odd golden eyes wide and captivated. "I've always wanted to know more about your people, sir."

Gorm chuckled gruffly as he lifted Jasper to be level with his eyes, his incomplete grin radiating comfort. "You can ask me anythin' you like, little one! But I'm afraid we giants ain't too interestin'."

'Giantology by Jasper Finch'

He'd spent a while thinking up a title for his journal, but it seemed the logical name for his writings. After his studies, when his mother would usually force him outside, he ran into the wilderness of his own volition. His bullies attempted to apprehend him, but once they saw that he was headed back into the forest, they decided he wasn't worth it. Free of fresh wounds, he almost skipped with joy as he called out for his new friend. He'd made sure to memorise everything Gorm had said the previous day, but he'd run it by him just to be sure.

"Well, well. You look happy, little one." Gorm smiled down at Jasper, and the boy paused a moment to stare upward. He hadn't seen him standing before, and the seemingly endless expanse of his friend's form was dizzyingly wonderful. "No bullies today?"

"No, they're too afraid to follow me!" He beamed, and when a hand was presented to him, he eagerly scrambled across the treetrunk fingers, giggling at the sensation of being whisked upward. Gorm held his hand to his shoulder, and Jasper climbed up to sit beside his ear, settling down as though he was meant to be there. "Thank you for yesterday."

"All I did was tell you stories." Gorm said, continuing his stroll. "But if it helped you, I'm glad I told you 'em."

The feeling was indescribable. The wind whipped around the boy, every movement reminding him that he was perched atop a colossal creature, every footfall and breath sending vibrations through his bones, feeling both like an invading insect and like Gorm's body was a powerful extension of his own. "I don't get many chances to speak to people who like me."

"Anyone who doesn't like a bright li'l thing like you isn't worth spit." Gorm grumbled. "Don't worry 'bout them. Sure, they might tease and hurt ya, but you got brains. You'll make something of yourself, and they'll only amount to shit-diggers. Oop!" His hand fluttered across his lips. "I mean, gong farmers. Don't swear." A few more strides took him out of the other side of the forest, a journey that was arduous and perilous to humans.

Jasper tittered to himself, taking in the view of the rolling green meadows below them. "I hope you're right."

[glouris]

Angrboda mentioned that the Vanir learned their magic from the Giants. There was an example of this right in front of us the whole time - Angrboda’s runic stones and Freya’s sigil arrows are basically the same thing. Their use in combat is the same, as they both explode on contact with elements (Freya’s sigils), or arrows (Angrboda’s runic stones). 

Interestingly enough, there is something else that has the same effect - Bifrost. After it’s been applied it will explode on the next contact too. Not to mention, sigils, runic stones, and Bifrost are all purple, with some things relating to them even having the exact same hue (Bifrost eyes and sigil arrows, for example). 

Something that looks similar to this as well are Wights and Wisps, Bifrost ones. Also, Angrboda’s falcon summon has a rainbow effect, so her magic is directly connected to Bifrost somehow. 

This type of Giant/Vanir magic is focused on using the runes. As the runes come from the Well of Urd, they are connected to Yggdrasil, which grows from the Well. Yggdrasil is in turn related to Bifrost, connecting all the elements together. That’s why the Giant/Vanir runic magic and Bifrost conjuration are so similar - their sources are intertwined. 

Through this connection we can also explain how Odin gives a sense of self to einherjar through Bifrost magic. While casting the spell, Odin names them: he says “Mun þinn nafn… Hrothgar (Gorm/Jaana)!” which can be roughly translated to  “Your name shall be…Hrothgar!”. Person's name connects to their identity and individuality, so by naming them Odin gives them that too. 

Names are spelled with runes, and as we already established, those are connected to Bifrost through the Well of Urd and Yggdrasil - that's why Bifrost magic is used when Odin gives a name (and a sense of self by extension). That’s also why their Bifrost eyes are the same exact color as the runic magic. 

If Heimdall and Gna’s eyes are the same as einherjar's, did they have something similar done to them too, to some extent? Heimdall can read minds and can tell when people are lying even to themselves - his access to Odin’s thoughts should be severed to support the lack of doubt in him; Gna is too loyal to Freya - should be swayed to Odin’s side. The Bifrost magic is not necessary to mess with their heads of course (good old manipulation will work), but the fact that their eyes are the same as einherjar’s still makes me squint. Perhaps there was something, perhaps there was not. 

Odin has a rune on his eyepatch - Ansuz (ᚨ). It’s the rune that represents Odin himself; it’s mainly connected to communication, knowledge, meaning, and among other things it also represents naming and conceptualization. It’s stated that Ansuz is the “rune of ancestral sovereign power of the mind, inspiration, enthusiasm and the power of the use of symbols for transformation of consciousness.” Odin is the one that discovered the runes after he hanged himself near the Well, and he’s the one that’s going around brainwashing people apparently, as well as just manipulating everyone, so everything checks out.  

The connection of runes and Bifrost explains why you need to know the realm’s rune to be able to travel there. Their connection to Yggdrasil also explains the similar color of the magics, since Yggdrasil is purple. 

It seems like this game will not stop blowing me away with it’s attention to details, symbolism, parallels, and so on. 

[muppenthings]

I love Gorm I wanna see as many infos and drawings of Gorm as possible...SPAM US WITH THE GORM

Aaaah I'm so happy you like him!!! Don't worry there'll be more of him in the future!! :D

In the meantime, have a preview of something I'm working on~ ;)

[tarjeismoeworknews]

Tarjei talks about Furia, Skam and student life in new Dagbladet article.

Google translation of the article:

"- Weird to talk about

Tarjei Sandvik Moe is back after deprioritizing acting for the past three years.

SOON ON THE SCREEN: Tarjei Sandvik Moe will soon be seen in a new season of the thriller series "Furia". Photo: Heiko Junge / NTB

Actor Tarjei Sandvik Moe (24) achieved international smash success with the youth series "Skam" in 2015. NRK's ​​series third season dealt with Sandvik Moe's character, the high school student Isak, and his path towards accepting himself as gay.

The series won many awards, and the 24-year-old was, among other things, nominated for best male actor during "Gullruten" in 2017. He did not go home empty-handed, and walked away with the audience award together with "Skam" colleague Henrik Holm (28).

AWARD WON: Henrik Holm and Tarjei Sandvik Moe received an award during the Gullruten in 2017. Photo: Marit Hommedal / NTB

Since then, the actor has taken part in a number of productions, including "Tainted(Skitten snø)", "Possession(Forbannelsen)" and "An affair(En affære)".

New role

On the top floor of the Munch Museum is a bar with large windows that fill the room with sunlight.

At a table, Dagbladet is waiting for the actor on the occasion of the press day for season two of the thriller series "Furia".

AROUND EUROPE: The series has been recorded in several locations in Europe. Tarjei Sandvik Moe has the role of political adviser. Photo: Prime Video

Sandvik Moe comes walking with a big smile on his face before extending his hand and saying hello. He takes his place opposite Dagbladet.

In season two of the Prime series, Sandvik Moe plays a political adviser. It meant a new world to get into.

- How do you prepare for such a role?

- I try to think about what kind of energy and rhythm he should bring to the scenes. How to carry my body, carry my voice, my hands. How does he walk? And learn the lines so that they sit well in your mouth, and try to understand what is at stake. And then come to the recording, listen, be present and have fun.

- Crazy

The days of filming offered a lot of action, and there is one scene in particular that the actor remembers particularly well.

- There was a scene that we recorded here in Oslo, out in the city. Then I would run. The camera operator filmed this with roller skates on. At full speed backwards on roller skates! I thought that was very cool, says the 24-year-old with great enthusiasm.

The main roles in the series are played by ring foxes Ine Marie Wilmann (39) and Pål Sverre Hagen (43). Sandvik Moe was disappointed when he read the script and realized that he would spend little time working with the latter.

- What I think was a bit weird is that Pål Sverre plays in this series, and he is an actor I think is incredibly talented, but I don't have any scenes with him. Our characters have nothing to do with each other, explains the actor.

- I got to meet him a bit on set. But I've met him before. We were counter-nominated once on Gullruten, and then of course he won. No big surprise. But then I talked to him a bit in Bergen many years ago. So it was the great sadness that they couldn't find a way to make our characters meet.

2017: Pål Sverre Hagen and Tarjei Sandvik Moe during the Gullruten seven years ago. Photo: Gorm Kallestad / NTB

- Hard to say

"Furia" is one of many productions the star has taken part in since we met him as Isak in "Skam" almost ten years ago.

- How do you think "Skam" has influenced your career?

- No idea. It is hard to say. I have been privileged in the way that I have been able to do a lot of acting work, and I hope that I would have been able to do it anyway. I have had an intention long before that, and knew that I was passionate about performing arts and film, and I have a strong drive to keep at it. That is what I think is the most important thing for me. I am passionate about what I do.

MET THE PRINCESS: Tarjei Sandvik Moe with Crown Princess Mette-Marit, Crown Prince Haakon and Princess Kate during a visit to Hartvig Nissen's school in Oslo, known as the "Shame" school. Photo: Terje Pedersen / NTB

Sandvik Moe is nevertheless open to the fact that NRK's ​​success may have opened doors for him.

- So I won't be naive either, it was certainly an advantage that I got a TV role when I was young. But I'm me anyway. It's weird to talk about alternate realities. What if you were born in another part of the world? I relate to the reality that is here, says the actor with a smile.

About student life: - Absolutely wonderful

Although the 24-year-old has already managed to build up an impressive acting CV, it has been important for Sandvik Moe to study. He is currently a student at the Norwegian Film School in Lillehammer.

- Now I'm studying film in my final year and I think it's absolutely wonderful. So I appreciate the reality I am allowed to be a part of. Then all the other realities get to live their own lives.

- How do you combine study assignments, a social life and intense recording around Europe with "Furia"?

- I have done much smaller plays in the last three years, because I have lived in Lillehammer and studied film scripts. I have prioritized it, because it has been important for me to study there. So I did this a bit at the same time, he explains.

- It was stressful, but it went well!"

[tarjapearce]

Últimamente he estado escuchando boleros me encantan! Siempre me imagino en la playa con esa música, anyway hay varias canciones que me hacen pensar en las diferentes versiones que has escrito de miguel (because I'm a hopeless romantic loser 😭 that has severe miguel brain rot and i have no one to talk to) y me gustaría compartir contigo 😅.

Okay hear me out soccer au miguel dancing with mamá in their dimly lit home after they decided to have a little alone dinner without the kids or they're just alseep and their dancing to sabor a mi (the Eydie Gorme con los panchos version) or contigo by los panchos or even besame mucho 🥺(personally really like the lisa ono version)

Piel canela just reminds me of him i think it's self explanatory. Ugggh he's just so beautiful 😩

So these next songs give me Bad Teachings vibes probably because of the lyrics and angst in feelings in the song? These are all by los panchos I'm sorry I really enjoy them 😅

- nosotros

- Cuando Vuelva a Tu Lado (this one is for when that have that tension you know BUT THEY CANT MAKE UP THEIR MIND WHAT THEY WANT 😤)

- Algo contigo

And lastly this song I feel like could represent future readers feelings in Of Flowers And Hummingbirds but I'm also not sure because Idk whats next 🤔 but it's called

- Y.... (sang by Eydie Gorme and los panchos)

Perhaps these are too old timey for most people but I just start to think of your writing of miguel when I listen to those songs. I apologize for this nonsense I just had to share before I lose my mind.

OMG 😭❤️❤️❤️.

Y justo ayer vino Luis Miguel a dar un concierto a Honduras y cantó Sabor A Mi

AAHHHH ❤️❤️❤️. Boleros are PERFECT for Soccer Family! Miguel 🥹❤️.

Beautiful renditions and songs ❤️❤️❤️.

Will soo add em to their respective series playlist 🥹✨. (ABSOLUTELY LOVED those for Bad Teachings jsksks)

Los Panchos are amazing. Boleros are soo angsty and romantic. Love em!!! I love "Historia de un Amor"

[nerds-yearbook]

Man-Thing first appeared in the anthology Savage Tales 1# with a cover date of May, 1971. He was created by Stan Lee, Roy Thomas, Gerry Conway, Gray Marrow, and Steve Gerber (per Marvel Fandom). He came out the same year as Swamp Thing over at DC (House of Secrets 92#, cover date of July, 1971). The series broke from the limits of the comic book code that regulated most Marvel titles. The issue also introduced (to Marvel) Niord, Horsa, Old Gorm, Atali (their comic adaption created by Roy Thomas and Barry Windsor Smith), and Princess Lyra, Queen Vega, Syrani, (created by Stan Lee and John Romita Sr) . The issue also included a Ka-Zar story and a stand alone story about the rise and fall of the governor of Potonga named Joshua known as The Black Brother. The Fury of the Femizons storyline was continued on in Fantastic Four 151#. ("Conan: The Frost Giant's Daughter", "Femizons: The Fury of Femizons", "Man-Thing: ...Man-Thing!" "Joshua: Black Brother!", "Ka-Zar/Kevin Plunder: The Night of the Looter!", Savage Tales 1#, Marvel print Event)

[thequeenofthewinter]

In the Marshes of Morthal

I started this thing a few weeks ago, but never finished it. I am releasing it into the Interwebs now.

AO3 Link

In the misty marshes of lowland Hjaamarch many stories are told—ones of strange magic and others of inexplicable mischief. However, as of late, many more are told of a much more insidious and unsettling nature. Chilling anecdotes have reemerged—ones which grandparents had passed from their grandparents before them in whispers of the wind long thought forgotten.

It is here. It is coming. 

At first they had all thought them to be old wives’ tales, stories which were told to small children to scare them into not coming home so late from playing in the marshes. Harmless. Safe. A good bit of fun to scare annoying younger brothers and sisters. But then, it started happening: the disappearances, the strange noises, and finally, the reappearances. Children which had been lost out on the marshes suddenly came back—or at least a part of them.

Everyone had ignored it as best they could at first, passing off the peculiar behavior as a phase or some innocent game that they were playing. However, over the days and weeks to come, the noises quickly became too loud to ignore and soon, Hjaalmarch was plunged into the darkest of nightmares—a twisted, corrupted quagmire of Vaermina’s greatest masterpiece. Only it was not her. 

No one and nothing—not Aedra, Daedra, nor anything from this plane to the next could save them from what was to come, as scarlet mushrooms cropped up out of nowhere and chilling vapors left behind the scent of deathbells and nightshade in every room. Only one common factor connected them all together: the children who had been whisked away for three days and three nights.

When any of the children were asked about where they were or what had happened to them, it was the only time they were oddly silent, almost catatonic as they looked with blank eyes and vacant stares upon their parents, caretakers, and eventually the Jarl herself.

“Jarl Idgrod, what are we to do?”

“Could you have not foreseen what was to come?”

“What is happening to our village?”

Questions but no answers appeared as more and more citizens brought their children to the longhouse. And here she had thought vampires were the peak of her problems. Apparently, she was wrong, and the worst part of it all was that for once, her eyes have failed her. Never in all of her 60 years of life has she ever felt so helpless.

Days passed. More children disappeared into the marshes. She had to do something. If she could get no answers from her inner eye, she would get them from eyes which she knew could see, even if they were less reliable.

“If I am not back in 3 days, you will send word to High King Ulfric and put my daughter on the throne as temporary Jarl.”

“But—” Gore tried to protest, but Idgrod continued to secure her cloak around her and grabbed her bag.

“No, buts. This must be done. I am the Jarl, and I will put a stop to this one way or another.

“At least allow me to to come with you or send a few guards.”

“No, Gorm.” Idgrod shook her head and gave him a wane smile. “No one will go with me. I must do this alone.”

The souls of the dead were restless. 

As soon as she stepped foot out into the misty marshes, she could sense it everywhere—sweet tendrils of death and decay were on the wind. They filled her nostrils and wrapped around her as if trying to pull her under their spell to lure her out further. It no longer surprised her as to why the children came; they had no choice. Impressionable and innocent, they did not know the dangers of what called to them. Not like she does.

She wandered out a little further. Her feet sunk into the mud. Idgrod trudged on with one less boot anyway. Deeper and deeper she went, each step carefully measured under the loamy earth as she connected herself to the ground, the air, and the spirits who watched her.

They shrieked. She did not flinch. They wailed, and she only narrowed her eyes.

That was when the fog rolled in to take the rest of her sight. Left with only one option, she steeled herself against what was to come.

“I know you are out here, and I know what you seek.”

She waited. No answer.

“You take the children and send back the bodies,” her eyes continued to search, “but the souls do not return. What are you doing with them?”

Cattails rustled in the wind, their ends bowing and bobbing as if in agreement with her observations. Still no answer. Her bony fingers curled upon themselves in frustration.

Idgrod opened her mouth to speak once more, but before she could even so much as utter one syllable something stole her breath. 

She turned. Footsteps approached. Her eyes still saw nothing, but she felt the presence. 

Cool fingers trailed down her spine as white ribbons twisted around her ankles. Of course, how could she have been so blind. Images of darkness oozed into every surface of her mind as the creature touched her. Despair and dismay. Decay and death. Would there be no way out?

No one knew where the wispmother came from, but there have been theories wrapped in conjecture and speculation. They were the mothers who took their lives after losing their children. Women who ran away from their spouses who beat them. Daughters who became lost in the bog. Any or none of that could be true and it was useless for her to ponder it—not in her current predicament.

“What do you want?”

No answer. The ribbons tightened around her, and mist filled her lungs as it tried to drag her under.

“I will not yield. You cannot take me. The Divines will not allow it.” She closed her eyes and hoped her words were true. The whispers of a prayer could no longer leave her lips, but she still had her mind with which to speak. 

Mara preserve her for she only wandered out here for the love of her people. Talos watch over her and lend her his strength. Stendaar have mercy upon her.

Darkness started to creep into the corners of her consciousness, and she drew one last ragged breath before reaching into the bag at her side. If there was one thing she knew, it was that even inside of conjecture and myth, there was also some grain of truth. She only hoped that she chose the right one.

Idgrod’s fingers touched the powder within, and she quickly sent it flying back into the wispmother’s face.

Even if Idgrod could have never guessed what was haunting the marshes of her beloved Hjaalmarch, all the damned have one thing in common—they cannot stand the light.

Many years ago when she was first elected as Jarl of her people, she made it her mission to keep them safe. In that pursuit goal, she tested many combinations of every alchemical ingredient that she could. That was how she discovered this mixture—glowing mushroom dust mixed with the healing properties of nirnroot. No thing undead could resist the concoction.

The apparition screeched, white blue flames erupting over its translucent body. If her life had not just been in danger, she would have mused that the thing was almost beautiful. She burned with such grace, her wrappings unraveling like dancing ribbons on the wind before falling lifelessly to the Jarl’s feet.

It was no more.

Idgrod stared at the spot where the wispmother once was, and then with a heavy sigh, trudged her way back to Morthal until the next threat knocked on her door as she knew it inevitably would.