#Dark Nordic setting

[legionofmyth]

Vaesen: Nordic Horror Roleplaying - Adventure Ideas

🎲 #Vaesen: Nordic Horror Roleplaying: Embark on haunting investigations, unravel dark mysteries, and confront otherworldly creatures in a chilling Nordic setting. #Horror #TTRPG #RPG #FreeLeaguePublishing #YearZeroEngine

Vaesen – [PDF]Embark on haunting investigations, unravel dark mysteries, and confront otherworldly creatures in a chilling Nordic setting with these Vaesen adventure ideas. Step into the Mythic North, a land where real myths come alive. Vaesen – Nordic Horror Roleplaying by Nils Hintze takes you on a chilling journey through a Gothic setting steeped in Nordic folklore. Encounter bloodcurdling…

[sarahowritesostucky]

Happy Little Family

📖"A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat: Just like her Mommy"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4407

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: Bucky shows up unannounced at your cottage, shattering the peaceful life you thought you'd reclaimed for yourself and your daughter. He's reclaiming what's his, and he isn't planning on accepting a "no."

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" shlyukha = "slut" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one"

1. A Clever, Tricky Little Kitty Cat, Just like her Mommy

"And then the knight took the princess away to his castle, and they lived happily ever after."

You're just outside the nursery when you hear his voice, and ice cold fear instantly floods your chest. You drop the laundry basket and run into the room, and there he is: seated in the chair you nurse from, reading one of the antique fairytale books that your mom gave at the shower, holding your baby. 

"James," you breathe, horrified. He's been smiling down at June, but now his face smooths out as he looks up at you. He isn't frowning or glaring, but you know him, and there's a storm behind those eyes that makes dread curl heavy in your stomach. "Hi Doll," he says quietly. "It's good to see you again."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel sick. One wrong move and who knows what he'll do. You take a cautious step forward, eyes searching James' body and anywhere nearby for a gun. You don't see one. You take another step. "James," you warn,

June makes a happy gurgle at seeing you, and James coos down at her, "Aw, yeah Sweetie. I'm happy to see Mommy too."

Mommy. Hearing that word come out of his mouth, in a setting like this, is a nightmare you've woken from more than once. You lick your lips and hold out your arms, pleading, "Please give her to me."

He acts like he hasn't even heard you, smiling and tapping June's body with one finger. "We were just reading a story. Little lady is gonna be a big reader one day, I bet. Gonna grow up to be real smart." His gaze slides back to you, with what you interpret as a world-of-hurt-coming-your-way look glimmering in his eyes. "A clever, tricky little kitty cat. Just like her Mommy."

A whimper escapes you, unbidden. 

June starts squirming in his lap, eager to get to you. When he doesn’t hand her over, she starts to fuss. He coos at her and bounces her in his arms to calm her, kisses the top of her head while keeping his somber, reproachful eyes on you. “You left your door unlocked,” he says. “She was alone.”

She’d been down for her nap when you went downstairs and popped across the street to visit with Hilde, your one friend in the world. It’s so common for mothers to do, in this tiny, Nordic village you’ve settled in. It’s the culture here. It’s supposed to be safe. You swallow thickly, eyes flitting around to try and think of what to do. You think of your gun, so far away. You’d talked yourself out of keeping it tucked behind your bed, so now the only weapon you own is down in the kitchen. But maybe … maybe if you can get him away from June … 

“You should be more careful, Little thief. You never know who might break in and take everything you love.”

“The only thing we had to guard against here was you,” you hiss. “And I’m not fool enough to think a locked door would keep you out.”

“You’re damned right it wouldn’t.” He tosses the storybook aside like trash and stands up with June in his arms. “But you are a fool if you thought there was anywhere in the world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

You flinch forward compulsively, unable to think of your own safety over your baby’s. “Please, James,” you beg. “Please. Just give her to me.” 

“Oh no, Dollface,” he purrs, voice deceptively soft. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, and you aren’t gonna want her in the room when it happens.” His hands tighten threateningly on June’s little body. “Whose baby is this?”

You blanch. “Don’t hurt her.” 

“Aw. You don’t want me to hurt her?” 

“No, please!” The sob that’s been working its way up in your throat finally breaks. It’s killing you not to rush forward and snatch her from his arms. “Please, I'll do anything.”

“Is that so?” He stares at you long and hard. The few seconds of silence are torturous as he holds your daughter away from you. 

James is one of the deadliest people you’ve ever met, and he’s capable of horrendous violence, but he wouldn’t hurt a baby, that much you do know. What you have to worry about most right now isn’t him physically hurting her; it’s him wanting her, whisking her away right alongside you, when he inevitably takes you from this place. There’s nothing you can do to prevent your own fate, but if there’s anything you can do to keep him from getting his hands on June, you’ll do it. Your eyes flit around the nursery frantically, its pale, dream-like decorations taunting you as you try to think of what to do. It feels surreal to have a man like James standing in this room, feels wrong.

Your heart leaps when he suddenly moves, but he’s only turning to walk over to the crib, bending and placing June in it with a surprising amount of care. Something painful lances in your chest at seeing him handle her so gently, but when he turns back around to you, all of that gentleness is gone. “Come on,” he snaps. “To the other bedroom.” 

You hesitate, not wanting to leave your daughter alone, but he stalks forward and grabs your upper arm, herding you out of the nursery and down the hallway. In your bedroom, he pushes you onto the bed. You land in a heap and scramble to prop back up on your hands, trying to swipe the hair out of your face.

“Whose baby is that?” he demands. “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

His Voice. God. After almost a year and a half it should be lessened. The pull you feel when you hear it has no right to tug at you the way it does. You’re not even mated, which makes it all the more insulting. It gets in through your ears and spreads throughout your body, like an invasive plant, growing and sinking its roots into you and tug, tug tugging on your will: Whose baby is that.

You fight the awful urge to tell him, as you rapidly, fearfully weigh your options. It’s hard to think when you’re so frightened, so taken aback. Most people might think it wise to admit the truth, but you know this man, this alpha, and you know he’ll never let her go if he knows that she’s his. Anything, you think. You have to do anything you can to keep her from that life, that world. 

Heart in your throat, you insist, “Noone.”

“Noone?” His visage darkens. “Artificial insemination, then? I know they’re progressive and all up here, but don’t take me for a fool, mamochka.”

“It was just some guy! Just a one night stand, I swear!”

He surges in, gets one knee up on the bed and pushes you onto your back when you try to get up, leaning over you and holding you down by your shoulders. “So you did let another man fuck you,” he growls.

You jut your chin out and hiss, “Yes.” (Lying Rule #1: deliver your bullshit with confidence).

“Who? Was he alpha?”

“Why do you care? It was one night in Oslo.” (Rule #2: add in one or two unimportant details.)

“What’s. his. name?” 

A bitter sound escapes you (Rule #3: attach honest emotion to it, if you can). “I don’t know his name. I never did. I was just racking up a roster, just wanted to get laid after getting away from you.”

He bares his teeth at you in a snarl, furious, and shoves you harder against the mattress. You cry out and try to hit him, but he catches your wrists and holds them down to the bed easily, shoving you again, one of his powerful thighs pressed up between yours. “You’re mine,” he growls, getting in your face, lying on top of you. “Noone else’s. Not ever.”

You whimper and nod, shaken and keenly aware of his body on top of yours, his strength. James is a massive hulk of an alpha, capable of overpowering you in any situation, and even through your frantic thoughts, you know you’ll never be able to get away from him in close contact like this. He’s so angry, his scent gone thick and choking. You’re too panicked to plan out what it is you’re going to say next, you just wind up instinctively trying to placate him, blurting out, “What do you want?”

He leers down at you. “I want what’s mine. What’s always been mine.” On your wrists, his fingers tighten cruelly. “You’ve had your fun now, and gotten away with it for too damn long. You’re coming home with me, Little thief.”

You gasp as the pressure on your wrists increases painfully, mind flying to that cold, Siberian fortress and the life that awaits you there. You might be able to get away from him before then, but you might not, and you can’t risk June being trapped there as well. “Okay, okay! I’ll go with you, I will. Wherever you want. Just … Please let me give her to the neighbor. Please.”

He smiles nastily down at you. “Oh, you don’t want her to come along? Another man’s pup?”

Tears press at the backs of your eyes at the thought of leaving your daughter behind, but you shake your head. “Please. Just take her over to the woman across the street. She’ll look after her. Please James, she's my daughter. I won’t fight you if you leave her there. She’s nothing to you. Just let her stay where it’s safe.” 

Something in his expression shifts, but you don’t have time to figure out what the emotion might be, before he shutters again. He leans down and purrs, “Oh, I don’t know, vorishka [little thief]. You stole some very valuable things from me. And since I don’t see any fucking Picassos hanging in this hovel you call a house, I assume they’re in the wind.”

It wasn’t as though you’d simply been able to run away. Escaping had required finances, techniques, firms of dangerous men hired to plant false leads, erase tracks, ferret you away into oblivion, and then move halfway across the globe and buy yourself a new identity. The bribes alone had eaten up most of the money. You shudder in his grip, knowing that the paintings wouldn’t save you, even if you did have them. “They’re gone.” 

“I know they’re gone, Little thief.” He shoves his thigh down against you. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

You whimper. “I can’t,” you plead. “James. I don’t have anything.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I can think of a few ways you can start repaying your debt.” He runs one hand down your side, groping your waist as he breathes softly against your ear: “For instance, do you have any idea what she’d be worth on the black market?”

It takes you a split second to figure out what he means, and your heart seizes in terror as soon as you do. You know James is involved in every type of shady, illegal dealing there is in the world, but you’d never even considered the idea of human trafficking. Now that he’s said it, you panic that you’ve made a huge mistake by lying that the baby isn’t his. “James,” you whisper, horrified. “Alpha, please.”

“Oh, it’s Alpha, now, is it?” He chuckles meanly, the sound making your stomach churn. You’re about to say something else, beg in some other, pitiful way, tell him he’s June’s father, but instead you cry out as his hand fists in your hair and yanks your head to the side. His breath hits hot against your skin and he drags his nose up the side of your neck, scenting you. “Mmm,” he hums darkly, pleased. “You spread your legs for another man, but you didn’t let anyone in here.”

You squeak when his teeth scrape over your still-unmarked glands. “No!” you gasp, just as much an answer as it is a plea for nim not to bite you. “I didn’t, I didn’—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, closing his teeth down on the spot. You whine as he pulls your hair and slowly increases the pressure of his bite, threatening to break the skin. Horrified, you feel your body responding with arousal, heat blooming deep in your core. You squeeze your eyes shut, and sure enough few seconds later James is inhaling deeply and chuckling. “Oh, kotenok [kitten]. Still the same as ever, huh?” He shifts, hand slipping down between your legs and cupping you from over the fabric of your dress. “Ripe for your Alpha’s touch, even after all this time. How sweet.” Humiliated rage bubbles up inside of you and you glare up at him. He’s looking down fondly at you, eyes heated and lip drawn into his mouth. He lets it slide back out between his teeth and murmurs, “It’s okay, you know. It’s everything to me, omegechka [little omega], the way you respond. It’s only natural.” You growl angrily, but he just hums and tugs your hair again, other hand molding to your mound and rubbing. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, when you cry out louder. “Don’t want to scare the whelp, do you?” 

You freeze, listening to try and hear June. She’s whining from over in her room,  not understanding why she’s been left alone when she can hear her mommy’s voice just down the hall. “Please,” you whisper, locking eyes with James again. “Please. Let me go to her.”

He grinds the heel of his hand against you. “I told you, Dollface. You don’t want her here for this.”

He kisses you on the mouth, chaste and lingering; so gentle that for a split second it makes you ache for what you once had with him. James always was very good at making love to you, at lavishing you with a softness and a tenderness even in the darkest of times. But now you can only shiver underneath his weight, because you know that’s not what’s about to happen. 

“Seventeen months, moya omegya,”  he rumbles quietly, lips brushing yours with the words. “My bed suddenly cold, not knowing if you were alive or dead. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His tone of voice is so intimately familiar that it makes your heart clench, bringing back memories of a life you’ve fought so hard to put behind you. “Please,” you whisper. “Don’t do this.”

He tuts and shakes his head softly, as if he’s actually remorseful. “How this goes depends entirely on you. I want you to know that.” He hasn’t stopped working his hand against you, rubbing his palm against your clit and smiling at how you shudder beneath him and your body betrays you. You watch his nostrils flare as he smells the reaction he’s pulling from you against your will. “Sweet girl,” he coos. “You just can’t help it, can you?” You toss your head and screw your eyes shut, but he’s having none of it. He yanks your hair and hisses at you to open your eyes. “No,” he warns, once he’s got your attention. He moves back, getting up onto his knees and shrugging off his jacket. “You’re going to watch. The whole time.” His hands land on his belt, the buckle clinking as he opens it and undoes his pants. “I want to look right in your eyes while I take back what’s mine.” He shoves his pants down along with his underwear. His cock springs free, already hard and wet at the tip. A part of him that’s been inside you hundreds of times, probably. Something you’ve craved and debased yourself for. 

Seeing it reignites your shame, but it’s the way you feel your cunt pulse and release a fresh wave of slick, that really makes you start resisting again. “Nnh!”

“Ah ah ah, Dollface. That’s not gonna work.”

“Nugh! Lemmo go!”  

You fight, of course you do, but it’s almost worse that way, as it only points out how comically mismatched you are to him. He laughs at you and holds down your thrashing body, barely even grunting from the effort of subduing you. “Shh sh sh,” he hushes, chuckling breathily as he forces you down with one hand and strokes himself with the other. “I have to tell you, kotenok. I’ve been looking forward to this.” 

“I hate you!” You manage to get a hand free and you flail, hitting and clawing at him. He inhales sharply as your nails scratch his face. He knocks your hand away with a surprised hiss and, wide eyed, touches the spot where a tiny line of red is welling up on his cheek. The next thing you know, he’s backhanding you, sending spots into your vision and knocking you out of your senses for a few seconds. Your ears ring and you blink, stunned.

His hand appears at your throat, squeezing, pressing up against the arteries. You briefly grapple with him, grabbing his forearm and fighting, but then his thumb notches into place and digs into your glands. Your cries taper off and you go limp with a pathetic, mewling whimper. “Nnnh …”

He leers down at you, adjusting his grip, still jerking his cock as he subdues you with the Hold. “Weak,” he says. “But that’s just how I like you.”

His thumb rubs in circles, sending a rush of liquid gold through your veins. It worsens the situation between your legs, and you can’t hide that any more than you can hide the humiliated tears that prick to your eyes as he shoves your dress up and rips your underwear straight off of you. He coos when he looks down and sees how wet you are. “Oh, omegechka.” He knees your legs further apart and drags his cockhead through your folds. “And this is you hating me?”

You shake with a silent sob, despising him with your whole being, hating yourself for reacting this way. Before James, you’d never met a man who coveted your omega nature so much, hadn’t known what it was to need an alpha that way, to have your body need him. And to think: you used to like it.

He lines himself up and sinks inside of you in one, unyielding push, forcing you to open to him, carving out his space inside of you. You cry out at the force of it, body clamping down hard and the delicate skin at your entrance stinging from the stretch, but he doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated. “Fuck,” he groans, grinding in deep, his pubic bone pressing against your clit, laughing darkly when it makes you squeal. “Oh, you sensitive?” He does it again, and again, doesn’t stop until he gets a high pitched, warbling moan from you. “Theere she is.” He digs his thumb in harder against your glands and stares right in your eyes as he watches the effect it has on you, soaking up the flush in your face and the furious tears welling at the corners of your eyes. “I know, Sweetheart, I know,” he murmurs. “You really can’t help it, can you?” You whimper and he nods along in mock sympathy. “Poor little thing. I can’t imagine what it must be like, to need it that bad.” 

“James,”

He pulls out halfway and shoves back in, hard, rumbling in pleasure when it elicits another yelp from you. His other hand grabs at your waist, fingers digging into the soft give of your body. He hums dirtily. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You look good for having just pushed out that pup. You look healthy.” You whine in protest and he fucks in hard again, baring his teeth in a mean smile. “Yeah, momma, you heard me.” He pulls out, thrusts back in. 

“Ss-stop.”

He laughs. “Don’t be like that, krasotka [Pretty(n.)]. I like it. You always were too skinny for my taste.” He runs his hand from your waist up to the top of your dress, yanking it down along with the cup of your bra, and groaning when your swollen breast spills out. You squeal in rage as he curses quietly, eyes going molten and unfocused. “Fuck, Honey, look at you.”

You start thrashing again hard, trying to hit him, but you only get a glancing blow to the side of his head before he refixes his hand on your throat and clamps down in another Hold. He gives you a firm shake. “Settle down. I told you: I like it..”

“Nnn, fuck you!” You spit on him, but he only laughs and wipes it away, leering down at you and continuing gleefully,

“Shouldn’t be skinny like some damn underwear model. Mm mn, naw. Now you’re nice and soft, just like you should be. Somethin’ for Alpha to grab onto. Bitty waist and a fat ass.” He grabs your waist again and pulls you down into the next roll of his hips, changing the angle and hitting that spot inside of you that makes stars burst in your vision.

“Ah!” 

“Mmhm. Right there baby? Yeah, thaat’s the spot. I remember.” He’s panting open-mouthed, breathless as he taunts you, “I remember everything. What you like. How you feel. The sounds you make. Fuck.”  He shoves into you hard and holds there, his licked-red lips curling up wickedly. “Your cunt’s fluttering around me, Sweetheart. Clamping down so fucking hard.” 

“Nnh!”

He laughs, but his smile slackens as his own pleasure continues to build. He angles back and looks down your body, stares at where his cock is disappearing inside of you with lewd, wet sounds. “Shit, momma. And this pussy snapped back real good, didn’t it?” 

You cry out angrily, but it’s what he wants: to see you aroused and humiliated and furious at him. He sets a punishing pace, his hips slamming against you hard on the end of each, brutal thrust; his open belt and the zip of his fly digging into your ass every time he grinds inside. “You haven't been fucking anybody,” he says smugly. “How long’s it really been, mamochka? Hm? How long since another man was in this cunt?”

You moan miserably, his cock driving hard against your walls, too rough but not painful enough to keep it from feeling good. James is big, has an alpha’s cock, and it’s never been a physical possibility for him to be inside of you and not rub against every spot that makes your body light up in pleasure. You shake your head and try to close your eyes, but he pushes his hand up harder underneath your jaw, shaking you. “Uh uh. Look at me.” 

You can’t fight off the command of his Voice, not when he’s already dominating you so completely. Your eyes open against your will, full of tears, and he rumbles in satisfaction. 

“Better.”

Every whimper and mewl you make drives him on, stoking the angry satisfaction that’s burning in his eyes—eyes that you can’t look away from as you cry out again and again, little “Ah, ah, ah's” that interrupt the cadence of your skin slapping together, all of his eager growls and satisfied grunts.

“That’s it, shlyukha,” he pants, hips snapping in hard, again and again. “You—ugh—you let Alpha know how good that feels. Don’t hold it back from me.” His breathing is getting heavier the closer he gets, his composure and even his anger losing some of their hold as he fucks you harder, sinks down on you farther, covers you with his body fully as he ruts into you in pursuit of his climax. “Shit,”  he hisses not far from your ear, face stuffed in your neck. 

You keen high in your throat at his proximity to your bonding glands—a plaintive sound that directly contradicts the panicked ‘no!’ that flashes in your brain. His hand leaves the front of your neck and scoops around behind instead, gripping you at the nape in a Scruff that feels just as toe-curlingly right as the Hold had. 

For a very split second, his breath hitches and his growling trips into a needy whimper. “O-oh …” And that’s when you feel it: his knot starting to catch on the end of each thrust.

“Ah!” You cry out sharply and grab onto him, helpless to keep your body from seeking out more, from clinging to him and clamping down hard as his knot grows and triggers you into orgasm. “Hhgnn …”

He goes feral when he feels your body locking down on him, growling and shoving in and grinding to ensure that he catches inside and ties you together. His hand abandons your neck entirely as he gives in to the instinct to rut, both arms wrapping around your waist, scooping under your back and holding you still for him to fuck furiously against. The tug of his knot inside your cunt makes you sob and come harder, losing sense of yourself as the pleasure cuts through you like a knife. 

“Fuck, fuck, ohhfuck …” The sound of his deep voice, so lost in the desperation and helplessness of his own pleasure, makes your belly flare hot with new arousal even as you’re coming down the other side of it. You gasp and pant, and eventually whimper as the bliss dissipates and you become more aware of him on top of you, grunting and groaning and fucking into your tie as he rides out the long, debilitating climax of an alpha.

You keep your eyes closed and cry, hating that it still feels good as he fucks into you, grinds down on your clit and gives your another orgasm, and another. You wait for him to finish as your brain fills with the high that comes after, that unavoidable pink cloud that you know is going to seal your fate and make you helpless to him for the next thirty minutes, at least. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn your head in the direction of the pillows. 

As the high starts to take you, you think about how, if you’d just kept your gun holstered behind by the headboard like you’d planned, you could be blowing his brains out right about now.

A.N.: Soooo ... This is the rape-iest thing I've ever ever written. I hope y'all are okay. Just wanted to drop a note to let you know that this fic WILL lighten up and not be quite so, well, rapey, in the future. Thanks for reading! 💖Sarah

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[esther-dot]

Jonsa Reunion

Safe and Sound 1k (I just have to highlight that this was posted in 2014)

Sansa escapes Baelish and finds her way to Castle Black.

Kiss of Undeath ficlet by @haraways

Sansa brings Jon back with a kiss.

Without You I Am Nothing 1k by @asbestosmouth

Castle Black is monochrome, but Sansa blazes like the fires of Rh'llor. Jon cannot help but burn.

Gifsets: Jonsa Hug by @joanna-lannister, Jonsa Hug by @c-sand, The Girl in Grey, Jonsa Hug 1, 2 by @kitnjon

Art: Jonsa Hug, Jonsa Hug by @vierverdeen, Jonsa Hug by @themarmic

Jon Comes Back Wrong

grave-dirt 3k by @charmtion

The edge of the world. The yawning dark. In his chest, a strange sluggish beat.

back in the pulse 2k WIP by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

(Who are you?) A dead man. A monster. The mistake of many and one. (And what have you lost?) Everything. (And what have you found?) You. (And what will you do with me?) Protect you. Always.

Made of Echos and Ice 1k by @thewolvescalledmehome

Ever since coming down from the Eyrie, Sansa has had the same dream. A wolf with white paws pacing in the snow. When she learns of the betrayal at the Wall, Sansa decides to do something about her dream.

i fall to pieces (when i'm with you) 70k by usuallysunny

"Go North. Only North. Jon is Lord Commander at the Castle Black. He'll help you." He'd had good intentions, this broken shadow of a man who used to be Theon, and he couldn't have known. Sansa finds a Lord Commander at Castle Black. He has steel-grey eyes, her father's eyes, and a dark beard framing a strong jaw, and he looks and sounds and moves like Jon... But he's not Jon.

Always Her ficlet by @temporal-tempest

Jon Snow came back darker, unreachable until her hand touched his face. This is what happens when you threaten that which has become the only warmth in a dark heart.

At Castle Black

My eyes were wide open 10k by @eruherdiriel

She hesitates, then reaches for his free hand, his other still tangled in Ghost’s fur. Their palms meet, hers warm against his chilly one, and the relief that rushes through him at her touch almost makes him close his eyes and forget the throbbing pain. “Do you remember what happened?” All he recalls are knives in the dark and cold, bitter cold. * It is in dreams that Jon begins to remember who he is.

Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten 2k by QueenOfSloths

She remembers the kiss that he took. The only thing she doesn’t remember is him taking it. There are times when she is almost certain that she gave it willingly.

'cause i know that it's delicate 4k by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

Set during "Book of the Stranger," immediately after Sansa arrives at the Wall. He goes to build the fire back up, and for a few minutes he stays silent, kneeling at the hearth, not looking at her. Finally he clears his throat. “I know,” he begins, “it’s not exactly what you’re used to — ” “You’d be surprised what I’m used to.”

make your fingers soft and light 10k by @ladyalice101

Jon goes quiet again, and his hand retracts, but just as quickly he is touching her again, oil on his fingers. He works methodically, moving from one wound to the next, one scar to another, from the base of her back to the top of her spine. It’s so gentle, so caring, and the longer it goes on the more Sansa relaxes, the safer she feels. Her eyes dip close under his rhythmic ministrations, and her mind goes blank, and she starts to feel the familiar lull of sleep edge around her mind. “This is supposed to make the scars fade?” Jon asks as he finishes up, his warm hands leaving her back, making her feel cold and startling her from her reverie. “Yes.” She isn’t sure she imagines the tightness in his voice when he speaks again. “If you are to do this every night, then I will gladly assist you.” // Jon rubs a soothing balm into Sansa's scars every night. But that's it. Nothing more. Definitely not. He's just there to help her do what she can't do herself.

as the night came down in a Nordic sky ficlet by @miazeklos

During her first night in Castle Black, Sansa reunites with the true North, and Jon welcomes her home.

Cold Nights at Castle Black ficlet by @estherruth-jonsatrash

They were grown now, childhood behind them. Yet they had been sharing a bed more like children, with the cold at Castle Black leaving them in need of warmth. At least at first.

How I wish you would take me for granted ficlet by @trollslanda

Sometimes her hands would shake- Solely in private, when she broke her quiet surface to gasp for air. Around others she still had a mental block, passively guarding her, bringing out the Stark iron. It made her keep her back straight and eyes steady, put up a solid front. Sometimes it felt like she was rusting from the inside and her brittle bones would never be whole again. --- Set shortly after Sansa has arrived at Castle Black, when she's still learning to feel safe. As it turns out, Jon is really good at that kind of thing.

Remedy ficlet by @wildflower-daydreamer

The night Jon and Sansa reunite at Castle Black.

To break and to mend ficlet @dreams-for-spring

In those moments nothing else matters and they forget what they have lost; in those moments they are more than the sum of their broken parts.

In the quiet of the night 4k by dreams-for-spring

It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share. Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.

Tous Deux On est Repartis dans le Tourbillon de la Vie 1k by @melimelo-ao3

He couldn’t even begin to picture what she had endured, what she had lived through. Yet, hearing her pleading in the night, he would give anything to know, to be able to understand her, to soothe her. He had only ever wanted to soothe her.

Gifsets: Where Will We Go by c-sand, Brienne Reacts to Jonsa, New Dress by @jonstarks How Could We Know, Sansa Tries Ale, Where Will We Go, Sansa Making Jon's Cloak, I Made This for You by kitnjon

Traveling the North

Five Times They Touch 1k by @justchunkit

She doesn’t touch him for days. Weeks. They travel from keep to stronghold, living in close quarters as they’d never done even as children. She is so close, but an icy veneer has covered the exhausted girl he’d started to know, and they can hardly exchange a good morning without it evolving into an argument.

Some Love Stories Need a Little Help 2k @graceverse

Or how Tormund effectively makes Jon share a tent with Sansa

Unnatural 2k by @amymel86

Once he is close enough, she leaps at him, arms wrapping him up and his nose buried in her copper hair. The shuddering exhale he expels is the most amount of sound he’s made in days but all he can hear is Sansa’s sniffling and the way their two hearts talk to one another in beats of the same song.

Gifsets: Arguing, Eye Contact, Jon Reacting to Sansa by jonstarks Side by Side by @baelerion

Pre Battle of the Bastards

we may only have this night 2k by wearycities

She summoned an image of Jon in her mind. When he saw her, at Castle Black. His eyes, his face. His hands letting go of the railing, like it had burned him. She could not stop thinking about his hands. She had turned the memory over and over in her mind on countless sleepless nights, wondering what it meant. After her argument with Jon the night before the Battle of the Bastards, Sansa returned to his tent.

The Madness of Dead and Broken Things 1k by @estherruth-jonsatrash

The first time, Jon tells himself it’s the last time. Jon gives into his feelings for Sansa the night before the Battle of the Bastards, telling himself he'll die the next day. He isn't prepared for the after of survival.

the night before the fight ficlet by @sailorshadzter

jon & sansa spend a night together before the battle of the bastards. pre parental reveal hookup, read at your own risk. nsfw.

Before the Storm 1k

Snowflakes fell from the grey sky, covering the ground in white even more than it already was. Grey and white, Sansa thought to herself. The Stark colors.

A gaze across a field 1, 2 ficlets by fedonciadale

Sansa's thoughts as she contemplates the possible outcome of the battle.

Gifsets: Arguing, You Don't Have to Be Here, I'll protect You I Promise by jonstarks, Pre and During BotB by baelerion, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by kitnjon, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by c-sand

Post Battle of the Bastards

Bloodstains and Stitches Chapter 1 and 2 by @trollslanda

Two scenes set after Battle of the Bastards: 1. In the courtyard, Jons pov. Post-battle calmdown and fluff I guess but also there's dead bodies and stuff. I dunno. 2. Sansa cleaning his wounds and stitching him up, her pov. A pretty sweet scene where they get a moment to breathe.

A Little Friction ficlet by @justchunkit

“You don’t know anything about me.” “Because you won’t tell me anything!” After the Battle of the Bastards, Jon and Sansa try to get to know each other.

Of Justice and Ghosts 1k by @lurikko

He knows his sister is watching him carefully like they are the only two humans left in the world, as they in a way are, and that makes his every remaining piece crumble.

Ghosts that We Knew 7k @the-prophet-lemonade

In the wake of the Battle of the Bastards, and the proclamation of the North's fealty to the Starks once more, Jon and Sansa see the ghosts of their family all-around. Sometimes, it becomes difficult to separate the past from the present when so many that they love are dead. A series of vignettes based around "nostalgia", and Jon & Sansa compared to Ned & Catelyn and the rest of their family.

they say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners 14k

Doesn’t have enough time to reminisce on the past because she’s turned around, and he’s seen her face, and it’s her. Can’t be anyone but her even underneath all that smudged dirt on her pale cheeks. Would know the red of her hair anywhere, he thinks. Doesn’t linger on the why, and instead descends down the steps and towards her. She’s turned her body so she’s facing him now, her eyes tracking his every move, his doing the same. They’re so in sync it’s terrifying, really.

Five Kisses 1k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

The five kisses that Jon and Sansa have shared.

Undisclosed Desires 4k Nina36

“Why did you stop?” She asked. I was ashamed. He was yours. I was terrified that you saw who I am. He was yours to kill. It was what you needed.

bet you didn't know that i was dangerous 4k by @ladyalice101

“I mean that your brother took a woman to bed, and when he had his way with her, he said your name into her ear over and over again.” // In which Littlefinger tests for Jon's weaknesses, and discovers a secret.

Soiled 5k by @orangeflavoryawp

"'Talk to me, Sansa,' he pleads, voice wavering, and she shuts her eyes to the sound. Like a gale. Like a mountain coming down. This is how it empties from her. 'What do you want me to say?"' she bites out, voice quaking." - Jon and Sansa. The start of their descent.

Dark in Bloom 8k by orangeflavoryawp

"His gravity wavers, the axis of his world tilted to the measure of her lips." - Jon and Sansa. The stain of desire bleeds slowly between them.

Hallowed 5k by orangeflavoryawp

“’Tell me,’ he growls, more demand than he’s ever given her – crown or not – and the feeling is heady in its fervency. Sansa stares him down, mouth a harsh frown. She doesn’t resist his hold, doesn’t ease into it either. ‘He says your affections for me aren’t… brotherly.’” - Jon and Sansa. An encounter with Lord Baelish brings the truth of their desires to light.

but still you stumble, feet give way, outside the world seems a violent place 3k by @parkersedith

When she looks at him, she cannot see anyone other than Jon, especially with him wearing a simple breeches and tunic, divested of all ornaments, even Longclaw. She can only see Jon, not her bastard half-brother, not the King in the North, not the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, not a wildling, but only Jon, the Jon who took Winterfell back with her, the Jon who fought their battle, the Jon who has been there, at her side, ever since she found him again. or; instead of roaming winterfell when she cannot sleep, sansa goes to jon, and to jon's bed. it's not quite as illicit as it sounds, and gives them a chance to finally, truly, talk

In the quiet of the night 4k by @dreams-for-spring

It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share. Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.

love is more than telling me you want it 2k

When he smiles at her, she feels warmth flooding back into her bones. She’d almost forgotten what it feels like, she’s been cold for so long. Sansa and Jon learn to be something other than ships passing in the night.

Gifsets: Jon Looking at Sansa by jonstarks, Sansa Looking at Jon by baelerion, Forehead Kiss by joanna-lannister, Winter Is Here by kitnjon, Forehead Kiss by c-sand

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - next week -> ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

[caroldantops]

like a stray to the arms that were open

ship: dark!wanda maximoff x fem!reader; dark(ish)!valkyrie x fem!reader

summary/request:  wanda needs a safe place for her and her pet to stay. valkyrie comes up with a compromise. for @maximotts

word count: 1.9k

warnings: smut (18+), dom!wanda, dom!valkyrie, sub!reader, dark themes (kidnapping, brainwashing), very light pet play (just the term pet and collaring), free use, fingering, overstimulation

masterlist | ao3 link

"Enter." 

Valkyrie absentmindedly sharpens her dagger, not caring about the mess that accumulates on her desk. She watches the cloaked figure move into the room carefully, each step echoing across the tiles. You follow close behind, a shimmering red trail of light linking your bound wrists and the collar around your neck to your owner. You're dressed in a very plain, but delicate light pink silk garment that hits you just at mid-thigh. The two of you together are a stark contrast, but it's rather fitting, Valkyrie thinks. 

"Thank you for meeting with me, your majesty."

"Save your formalities, Wanda," Valkyrie rests her dagger on the table and kicks up her feet, resting her hands folded together on her abdomen. "Or should I say, Scarlet Witch?" 

"Well, since we're dropping the formalities, Wanda is just fine." The king gestures to the seats in front of her desk. Wanda takes one of them, and you remain standing, frozen as you wait for permission. Valkyrie watches you carefully, your gaze set hard on the handcrafted tiles beneath your bare feet. She bets you're freezing in the Nordic air, her raging fireplace at the back of her office doing little to soothe your bare skin. 

But you don't complain. You don't even shiver. 

You've been told to keep quiet and still and wait for your orders, so you do. 

Valkyrie can imagine a laundry list of ways she'd like to test that obedience. 

"Kneel," Wanda finally commands. You drop to the floor, kneeling silently beside her. She rewards you with a gentle stroke along the back of your neck, silent code for good girl. 

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods, witchy?" 

You can feel Wanda's energy radiating off of her, your body and mind deeply in tune with your own by this point, and you can tell she doesn't appreciate the nickname. But, she's here to ask a favor, so she does not take the time to argue about it. 

"I've come to ask if you would be able to provide a safe place to stay. I have been...forced to find somewhere where I can keep a low profile." 

"This about the whole New Jersey situation?" Valkyrie raises an eyebrow. She knows little about Wanda, mainly from Thor, but a certain sorcerer won't stop contacting her with updates on "multiversal threats" as if she has time to give a shit about that. 

"Partially. And some events after that." You see Wanda tap her Darkhold stained fingers against her thigh. A few moments of silence pass as Valkyrie thinks. You dare dart your eyes upwards to see her for briefly, her eyebrows furrowed deep in contemplation. 

"Well, y'see you're putting me in a bit of a dicey situation," Valkyrie sighs dramatically, like she's not plagued by the thought, but rather ready to bargain. "How am I gonna be sure that you're not gonna hold New Asgard hostage?"

"I have no intentions of doing that, Valkyrie," Wanda answers firmly. "What I had there I no longer have. There's no reason to repeat it." 

"Hm. I believe you, y'know, I do. But if word gets out around town that I'm helping harbor a witch on the run, my people might not be very fond of that." The magic chain attached to your collar shifts, tugging slightly as the tension in Wanda's body grows. You squeak at the pressure, and she shoots you a look. Valkyrie also looks back down at you. "Y'know, you haven't properly introduced me to this one." 

"This is my pet," Wanda answers, resting a hand on your head. You take this as cue to meet Valkyrie’s intense gaze over the edge of her intricately carved desk. She leans over out of her chair to see you better, and you shrink a bit under the attention. “In my…cross universe excursions, I found her all alone, just waiting for someone to come along and take care of her. So, I did.”

You lean into Wanda’s touch as she pets you. She wasn’t lying. At least, as far as you remember. She’s flushed out the hard parts, the parts that she didn’t want your sweet little mind plagued with. You didn’t need to remember that you had another Wanda at one point, one who left you for a variant of the man that Wanda thought she wanted back so desperately. 

Lost and alone, desperate for your Wanda to come back. She never would, your new Wanda had told you when she yanked you from your universe, bringing you back to a secluded house in a withering forest. She terrified you, you had no idea what it was that she wanted with you - whenever you asked, all she replied was, “You.” 

Wanda turned you into her prized pet, got rid of all those early memories that were holding you back from being as compliant and obedient as she needed. Every waking moment of your current existence was dedicated to pleasing her. And hers was now dedicated to keeping you safe. 

“Interesting,” Valkyrie hums, sizing you and Wanda up. You can see the gears turning in her head, and you know that there’s no doubt that Wanda is peeking into the King’s mind. But, she doesn’t say anything, just waits for her to bring the thoughts up, which of course, Valkyrie does. “I think that I can manage to house you without raising any suspicions, witch. But you’ve got to sweeten the pot for me.” 

“Just say what you want already,” Wanda says, face stoic. 

“I let you live here, and you - ” Valkyrie points teasingly at Wanda. “ - let me play with your little pet here. Whenever I want.”

 You can’t help but dart your eyes up to your owner. Wanda shows no signs of emotion on her face, not allowing you or Valkyrie to get any sense of where her head is at. Your body shivers at the idea of Valkyrie toying with you. Wanda doesn’t miss it, tugging the magic leash and making you squeak again. 

“I scratch your back, you scratch mine, yeah?” Valkyrie chuckles as Wanda continues to sit in silence. 

“Angel,” Wanda speaks to you. You perk up at her acknowledgement. “You would do anything I asked of you, right? Because you’re my good girl?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you answer with no hesitation. 

Wanda nods, like she knew the answer anyway. Or rather, would’ve decided despite your response. She turns back to Valkyrie. 

“Deal. As long as I’m present.” 

“Course, wouldn’t want me to snatch her away from ya,” Valkyrie grins, offering her hand across the table as if she’s just secured a fancy business deal. Wanda can’t help but roll her eyes as she shakes it. “Can’t wait to break her in. Actually, why even wait?” 

“You’re cashing in already?” 

“I did say whenever I want, didn’t I?” 

“You did,” Wanda breaks the magic tethering you to her. You look up for her guidance of what you’re supposed to do, but you don’t have to sit wondering long. Valkyrie comes around the table and lifts you off the ground with no effort at all, tugging you to bend over the side of the table. 

“C’mon, cupcake, gotta give your mommy a nice view huh?” Valkyrie whispers in your ear as she runs her hands up your bare thighs. She leans away from you to push your slip up over your ass and is pleased to see you’re completely bare underneath. “Wanda trying to freeze you in this weather, love? Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up in no time.”

You’re putty in her hands as she kisses up your spine, leaving small bites along the way that make you squirm against her hold. You feel her laugh against your skin as you wiggle, murmuring to herself how pretty you’re gonna look all bruised up. 

“You like that, baby? You like my mouth on you?” 

Your eyes dart to Wanda yet again. “Answer her, sweetheart. You can speak if she addresses you.” 

“Yes…” You’re unsure of how to address the woman kneeling down so she’s face level with your already dripping cunt, and her breath against you makes it even harder to think. 

“Hm, I think if you have a mommy already, only seems natural you call me daddy, hm?” Valkyrie licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan and buck against her face, her nose nudging your clit as you do. “Or, my king will also do.” 

“Hungry for power much?” Wanda raises an eyebrow. She’s leaned back casually in the plush chair, watching Valkyrie work her pet as if she’s been doing this for years. 

“Like you can talk,” Valkyrie shoots back before diving back into your waiting pussy. “Fuck, she’s delicious.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” Wanda’s voice betrays her, that little arousal filled rasp that you’re so used to coming out as she shifts in her seat. 

“Mm, I know why you wanted to keep her so bad.” 

You feel Valkyrie stroke her fingers along your folds as she takes a break licking you to mark up your thighs. Her rough fingertips rub your clit and dip into your hole teasingly. You can’t help pushing back against her hand, which prompts her to deliver a swift smack to your core. Sharp heat pulses through your cunt as she does, and you cry out for Wanda automatically. 

“Behave, baby,” Wanda responds to your sob. 

“Need more,” you whine. 

“Greedy little thing, are we?” Valkyrie’s fingers return to lazily teasing your clit, now throbbing and swollen. “I’m being so nice to you, and you complain about needing more?” 

“No, no, ‘m sorry,” you cry. “I’ll be good.” 

“Mm, bet you will. Bet your mommy keeps you in line, huh?” Valkyrie rewards your submission with three fingers in your aching cunt. You arch against her, pushing your hips back to meet her deep thrusts. “That’s right, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Feels so good, doesn’t it? God, if I’d known I would have a perfect pet bent over my desk today I would’ve brought my strap to work.” 

“She’d love that,” Wanda says. “Loves being filled up so much. Loves being bred too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Valkyrie grins and stands up, fingers never slowing their thrusts as she presses herself against your back. She leans down beside your ear and whispers, “You like being filled up with cum, huh baby? Want me to stuff that tight little pussy full?” 

“Y-yes, please.” 

“Course you do, ‘cuz you’re nothing but a desperate slut. Only desperate sluts let strangers fuck them in front of their mommies.” You can barely respond with more than a whine, but that doesn’t matter to Valkyrie. She feels you clenching around her fingers, and curls them just right against your sensitive spot, ripping a raspy moan from your throat. “There you are baby, cum for me. Show your mommy how good I fuck you.” 

You can feel a surge of wetness gush past Valkyrie’s fingers as she keeps fucking you through your orgasm, uncaring as you go completely limp on her desk. You expect her to pull out soon, but instead you feel another finger pushing inside of your spent hole. Dizzy with pleasure, you hardly notice as your head is lifted and placed in Wanda’s lap. She strokes your hair and shushes your whines as Valkyrie continues pounding into you, stretching you out more than Wanda ever has. 

“Be a good girl and let Valkyrie play with you, baby. She’s gonna take her fill no matter how tired you are, might as well get used to it now.” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

[sharp-silver4795]

Silly Creepypasta Contacts

Inspired by this post

These are all from BEN’s Perspective cuz who else would do this? let’s be honest.

A few of them may need explaining-

21 Pilots Bitch (Judge Angels)

🎶you’re the judge, oh no, set me free, oh no

I know my soul’s freezing, hells hot for good reason

So please… take me🎶

“The Judge” song by 21 Pilots

No brain-only scythe (Scarecrow)

🎶if I only had a brain🎶

Slender’s Lapdog (Rouge)

Rouge is given the nickname “The Operator’s Watch Dog”

BEN’s making fun of that

Nordic Cat (Kat Hunter)

The name of Kat’s cat is Loki, a Nordic god

To BEN, Kat means nothing in comparison to Loki

Which is correct

Chippy (Toby)

Toby likes chips

Aaaaannnnddd someone called him “twitchy” once and BEN thought they said “Chippy”

It’s just a running joke now.

Boring (Tim)

“Masky” is a boring asf name

He would have called Brian Boring too but the Voyeur was too good

Voyeur (Brian)

The camera

Whack-a-clown (Candy Pop)

The mallet

Frosty (Ani)

🎶 frosty the snowman🎶

Precious Baby (Lost Silver)

He thinks of Lost Silver as a lil bean

He’s not exactly wrong either

Scary Bitch (Kate)

Joker Reject (Jeff) ; Cat Woman (Nina) ; Lesbian Batman (Jane)

Jeff has the Joker smile

the people he tried to murder are going to beat the shit outta him

Tick-Tock (Clockwork)

Muscles (Zero)

Girly is strong

Buff friend

Not a Twink 🤯 (Liu)

BEN was thoroughly shocked to find that Liu actually has muscle and such, it’s just hidden under all them layers-

Bendy Eyes (EJ)

Referring to Bendy and the Ink Machine

Since the liquid coming out of his eye sockets looks like ink

Wine God (Kagekao)

Villain (Dark Link)

In the game, Dark Link is one of the characters you fight in the Water Temple

Plamt (Doll Maker)

His first name is “Vine”

King of Twinks (Jason)

The ultimate twink

Adopts twinks as his kids

Mono IT (L. Jack) ; Drag IT (L. Jill)

IT as in Pennywise the clown

Mono(chrome)

Drag, as in dressing/being in drag

Circus music (Candy Cane)

Sock boi (Puppeteer)

Referring to sock puppets

No friends lol (Nathan)

He’s a “nobody” so he has no friends

Divider Creds: Sister-Lucifer

Header Creds: ME!!!

[bluedalahorse]

Fanfic: Swell the Numbers (on AO3)

So as those of you who put up with my one-line updates know, I’ve been working on a one-shot fanfic about August set three years after season 3 wraps up. I wanted to explore a lot of things—ways he continues to grow post-canon, his changing relationships to his family, and his friendship with Nils.

Here’s a teaser:

“Hey.” August steadies his voice and gives Nils’s shoulder a gentle shove. The same one Nils gives him when he’s looking at calories on a label for too long. “That’s a good thing, that you’re filtering yourself less. Right?” Nils doesn’t have a chance to reply, because at that moment a fleet of black SUVs drives up R Street. In their midst is a dark-windowed car that stops in front of the cafe. The driver comes around and opens the door. The queen’s heels hit the pavement. She’s wearing a white pantsuit and sunglasses that echo the dark glass on the car windows. The contrast pulls up a checklist in August’s brain. As the queen crosses to him and greets him, August runs through the rest of the checklist. She’s walking in a straight line, one foot after the other. When she hugs him, she doesn’t smell like alcohol. And she’s only had the prescribed amount of antidepressants, if August had to rely on his instincts. He feels guilt soak into his chest, thinking like that. He also knows that even though he hasn’t relapsed since last summer, the queen is running through the same checklist of substances with him in mind. That when she wraps her arms around him and it’s as much a measuring gesture (has he lost weight again?) as one of familial recognition. The queen steps back and pushes up her sunglasses. Her lips press into a frown as she squints against the morning brightness. “You look well,” she says to August. “I’ll let your mother know you’re thriving.” “Don’t worry,” says August. “She left me a message yesterday.” “I see,” says the queen with faint disapproval. “She wanted to come along today, but I talked her out of it for you. She’d only want to sightsee, and you’re busy with work, aren’t you?”

As a proud Washington DC resident, I have quite selfishly sent August to Georgetown for university and put him to work as a Swedish Embassy intern, so parts of my beloved city will feature in this fic. I’m also specifically posting during Capital Pride weekend because the Capital Pride parade will play a role.

I owe a lot of people thanks, but especially to @heliza24 who let me constantly text-spam her about it amidst the Devil’s Minion apocalypse, and to @coruscantrhapsody who let me verbally spam her about it while I was blending smoothies in the kitchen. @sflow-er and @gaypeoplearenotreal have also been wonderful as zero-judgment sounding boards for my August-related ideas, while also providing encouragement and support. @librarianladyx deserves a mention too for being onboard with August-Nils interaction and for sending me pictures of the Nordic embassies Pride float this year.

I’m so excited to finally be able to share this, and I hope everyone has a lovely weekend.

[cruisingheightswithdragons]

With Friends Like These…

The sky was pitch black, given that the overcast skies blocked out the light from the moons. It was lucky, then, that Dah’ni could see in the dark. The swamps of Hjaalmarch were alive with sound as crickets chirped and unseen frogs croaked. It would have been a serene moment, if Dah’ni hadn’t just escaped being kidnapped and forced to kill.

They turned back to see the abandoned lodge they were held in through the fog as they strode further away. Their kidnapper was a woman who had welcomed them into her “family” upon the condition of khajiit taking the lives of the other hostages inside. Needless to say, Dah’ni now had a family waiting for them within the forests of Falkreath.

It was just a matter of getting there now, to say nothing of returning to their home in Whiterun where their party was hopefully waiting for them. Perhaps one of them awoke to the sound of Dah’ni’s capture, or they all slept through it. It was the middle of the night, after all. Regardless, the khajiit wanted first and foremost to return home to their friends, Kharjo, Lydia, and Taliesin.

Could that Altmer be a friend? Or is he perhaps looking for his chance to sell them out? Dah’ni shook away those thoughts. With Lydia and Kharjo to keep their eyes on him, there was no way he’d have the chance to return to the Thalmor— that’s what Dah’ni hoped at least. They still didn’t trust that he was telling the truth about him abandoning the Thalmor…

The snap of a twig brought the khajiit out from their thoughts and back to the present. Walking for so long had led Dah’ni out of the marshes and into the snow. Ears perked, they looked around and parted their jaws to let the scent glands on the roof of their mouth get an idea of what could be nearby.

By the time they caught the putrid scent of a bear, the beast came shambling out from the shadows of the trees, grunting and growling as it glared hungrily into its newfound prey. Dah’ni stiffened as they searched their person for their bow or axe, but only then just noticed that they were unarmed and defenseless, recalling having used their thu’um back at the abandoned lodge. Their weapons and armor were in their house in Whiterun, meaning they were in nothing but their sleepwear! The gods were playing a cruel trick on them this night.

The bear bellowed out a roar and charged. Dah’ni’s tail bristled and they spat, hissing at its foe. They unsheathed their claws, and were intent to ward off their adversary. The bear slammed its broad head into the khajiit, knocking them onto the ground. The beast reared up onto its hind legs, ready to slam heavy, clawed paws onto Dah’ni.

Before the creature could loose its weight onto its prey, an ice spike made its way from the shadows of the wilderness and lodged into the bear’s shoulder. Another found its way into the bear’s thigh. The beast roared and set itself onto all fours, its eyes glistening with pain as it rounded back to its pursuers.

“You want them? You’ll have to get through us, first!”

Taliesin…?

Dah’ni could see their friends erupting from the snow. Lydia readied her Nordic sword to slice through the creature, while Kharjo charged with his steel war hammer. Taliesin’s hands glistened with glowing frost as he prepared another ice spell.

Kharjo came first and swung his hammer at the bears legs before it had a chance to react. The creature fell to its side, roaring in pain from the impact. Taliesin’s ice spikes sunk into its flank, pinning it to the ground while Lydia finished it off by slicing its neck with a downward slash. The bear shook with a quick spasm before lying still in the blood stained snow.

Taliesin was quick to rush to Dah’ni’s side, looking them over for injuries. “What were you thinking going off on your own?” He scolded. Was that concern etched in his voice?

Dah’ni laid in the snow motionless, jaw dropped in astonishment. Slowly, they got up from the snow with the help of their Altmer companion, shaking their wool clothing to free it from snow chunks lodged into the fabric. “How did these ones find khajiit?” They asked.

Lydia spoke first. “Taliesin woke us up and said you were missing, and wanted to look for you right away,” she explained, “He had Kharjo sniff out your scent, so we followed the trail and it led us here.”

Dah’ni’s ears perked up and they glanced at the Altmer. “This is true?” They could scarcely believe that it was him of all people who was first into action to retrieve them. He really was worried? A warm feeling rose into their chest, but was swiftly pushed away.

The elf huffed and regained his composure. “Well, if my own captor was held hostage, what would that make me?” Taliesin jeered sarcastically, “Now that would be embarrassing enough.”

“Khajiit picked up another scent that kept up with your own,” Kharjo said, “You were taken, yes?”

Dah’ni nodded as they approached the rest of the group.

Taliesin unsheathed his dagger he lovingly named Berwhale. “I suppose a manhunt is in order?” He asked, “We can’t very well let these scoundrels walk free after this!”

“Not necessary.” Dah’ni held up a hand to silence him.

Taliesin gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest as if he had just been victim to the worst offense one could pull. “You were kidnapped! Need I remind you?”

Lydia took a step forward. “You’re usually quick to fight bandits, whoever they are, so I have to agree,” She said, casting a quick glance at the Altmer who returned the gesture. “It’s not like you to turn down a chase.”

“You are right about that.” Dah’ni laughed. They turned back to where the bear lay before gazing further into the fog and snow from where they had come from. It had been enough time to mull over their options. Whatever that woman was talking about in that lodge seemed to hold a lot of promise. They figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to bring themself to visit their newfound family. It was settled, then. Returning to their companions, the Khajiit spoke again. “As soon as I’ve got my things back, I suggest we take a trip to the forests of Falkreath…”

[veronicasvices]

Your average YA fantasy story starter pack

-The title is something like "The Queen of Bone and Ember" or "The Raven Kingdom". Basically anything that sounds vaguely fantastical and that has little to no correlation with the actual plot.

-The setting is usually a romanticized version of medieval northwestern Europe. (Sorry y'all, no bubonic plagues to be found here.)

-Inspired by Celtic/Nordic Mythology. (or Greek mythology if you're feeling extra spicy)

-Bright colors? What is that?

-The characters have the shittiest names you have ever heard in your life.

-The main heroine is a "strong female character" who is "not like the other girls"

-She's either an assasin or a queen, and is usually too young and stupid to actually do any of those things correctly, but she does them well anyway because she's a "strong and independent woman" who manages to do anything without any actual training or personal development. Yay.

-Enemies to lovers subplot (oOOh, daGgeR tO tHe tHroAt, how original.)

-The "dark and mysterious" love interest is a posessive asshole with no redeeming qualities other than being relatively attractive.

-Oh boy, a love triangle made to compensate for the main heroine's bland and obnoxious personality! I wonder if she's going to choose the sweet and caring childhood best friend or if she's going to choose the guy who has spent the entirety of his life treating her like trash. Hmmm, I'm sure she'll pick the logical option.

-What?? She chooses the shithead?? What a shocker.

-They somehow get married without filing a divorce in the first two weeks.

-This usually lasts three books or more.

[powdermelonkeg]

You reblogged a post about the practical female armors mod for skyrim and now i am being sucked back into the pit of skyrim modding. any mod suggestions? its been a solid couple years since i played and there's a LOT to choose from

Oh man I haven't had a chance to play since my computer broke lemme see what my last modlist was.

(One moment while I force my broken computer to work)

So fair warning, I like survival aspects. I like it when games require me to eat/sleep/do things to live, because then the 15 cheese wheels in my inventory actually mean something besides instant health. I also really like companionship and roleplaying elements, so most of my playthroughs are built around that.

Dependencies not included:

Campfire: Camping mechanics. Supports a party of 4, if I remember correctly. Also lets you craft a few things, but I'm more interested in stargazing with my buddies.

Vitality Mode: Current iteration of "better than Survival Mode" mechanics. Eat/drink/sleep/etc. Does it very nicely with a corner icon that gets more red the worse off you are, rather than whatever SM had going on. Also lets you configure modded food items for it just by eating them!

Pronouns: Pick what pronouns you go by regardless of default body. Will attempt to exclude gendered language if possible (like, it's unavoidable with Brynjolf calling you lad/lass, but you can pick which one it falls back to) if you pick they/them. You can set percentages of different pronoun sets or even have it change randomly on a timer.

Quality World Map: PUTS. THE ROADS. ON. THE MAP. If you're doing no fast travel, this is VITAL. Base map is terrible, next question.

Delphine's Map Reveals Dragon Mounds: Because it should.

Delay the Foresworn Conspiracy Quest: Ever get sick of being roped into that quest immediately? (Makes it so that guy doesn't hand you the note unless you talk to him directly. Main Street Stabbing™ is still there)

Dragonborn Delayed: Ever get sick of being roped into THAT quest immediately? (Especially given the suggested level of Solstheim...you can pick when it happens: after returning the horn, Delphine, Alduin's Wall, meeting Paarthurnax, getting the Elder Scroll, kicking Alduin's tail at the top of the mountain, or killing Alduin)

Extended Encounters: More encounters in the wild! Mercs, adventurers, vampire attacks, etc.

Vittoria's Alternate Wedding: She can get married without you killing her! She's not in engagement hell!!! Only triggers if you destroy the Dark Brotherhood.

Immersive Realistic Party Clothing Overhaul: Wear any "rich" clothes to the party instead of what Delphine gives you. I usually use this with mods that add more fancy clothes.

More To Say: Everyone talks more about a wider variety of things. Lets you tell Meeko he's a good boy and give him a treat. Makes a few new lines with splicing, but I haven't noticed any hard cuts.

Wonders of Weather: Splashy rain and rainbows, occasional shooting stars, scheduled meteor showers

Darker Nights: What it says on the tin. I like using torches and fires, and regular nighttime is unrealistically bright for me.

Whiterun Watchtower Doesn't Start Broken: Because why should it?

Cooking Inns and Taverns: Because I need more cooking pots and ESPECIALLY Hearthfire ovens to find.

C.O.I.N.: Adds immersion by changing coins based on where you are. Ancient Nordic coins are going to be worth less than the standard Septim, while Thalmor gold is worth more. There are Dwemer coins.

More Thalmor Dossiers: Makes more lore books on characters to pick up when you're in the embassy. Also has patches for some followers. Very fun.

Bandolier: More carry weight and it looks cool.

Guard Dialogue Overhaul: Gives guards more to say, and changes their opinions of you as you complete quests.

Bandit Lines Expansion: Bandits talk more, 500+ new lines. Spliced, but it sounded smooth to me.

Alternate Start: If you're sick of the standard Helgen entry, THIS. Also the New Beginnings add-on gives even more options.

No Fast Travel: Honestly this is just a me thing, because I use Vitality Mode and want realism. Only go for this if you're like me and it won't frustrate you.

Followers (aka, my party pre-BG3)

Gore by @goredev: A young Imperial mercenary from Cyrodiil, was ambushed by Thalmor because of some traitorous members of his band. Absolute sweetheart, riveting story, fantastic found family vibes all around. 10/10 would kill for him. Updates often, so check the mod page every now and then after install.

Inigo: An indigo Khajiit who put himself in prison because he thinks he killed you. Amazing banter, very cheeky, comes with his own whistle-signal mechanics. You can buy him a horse if you have the right patch! (He interacts with Lucien right out the gate and has a banter patch with Auri)

Lucien Flavius: An Imperial scholar from Cyrodiil with a myriad of unique mechanics, letting you teach him your own skills in order to customize his battle style. He's in Skyrim looking for a (custom made, well-implemented) Dwemer dungeon. The lad has a MILLION compatibility patches that let him comment on all sorts of mods. (Interacts with Auri right out the gate)

Auri by @sotgofficial: A Bosmer from Valenwood who's having a lot of culture shock in Skyrim (where she's from, canonically, her people are cannibals and don't harm plants—she HATES Faendal with a seething passion). A fantastic character (and archer), a heartwrenching story, openly poly and likes to tease. Will be a little annoyed/depressed until you do her personal quest, so I recommend chipping away at that as you travel. I usually use her with the Refined Auri replacer.

Taliesin by @dynamite124, voiced by @nevermorepjm: My personal favorite, an Altmer and former Thalmor agent you help after he's been mortally wounded. Lots of sassy and witty dialogue, bursting with personality, changes his opinion of you over the course of the main quest. Please I'm begging you watch his trailer.

Khash by @rabbittwinrithings: Darling little Argonian teenager you can take along with you. Doesn't get sarcasm, speaks her mind often, can be coaxed into talking about her past—that's not a typical Argonian name, is it? Resident gremlin alongside Auri.

Back to normal stuff, visuals

Tempered Skins for Males/Females: Gives a decent look without airbrushing everyone because I am SO sick of airbrushing everyone... There are dicks in the setup screen (when you set whether you want them or not), beware.

Improved Eyes: Just a little tweak.

Brows: Another little tweak.

Subliminal Traps: Makes traps less obvious. It's masochistic, yes, but I like my immersion.

Awesome Potions Simplified: You look at these and tell me they aren't the coolest looking potion bottles you've ever seen.

[legionofmyth]

Vaesen: Nordic Horror Roleplaying - Vaesen

🎲 #Vaesen: Nordic Horror Roleplaying: Utilize the Year Zero Engine to blend investigation, folklore, and horror elements to unravel mysteries and face the unknown. #Horror #TTRPG #RPG #FreeLeaguePublishing #YearZeroEngine

Vaesen – [PDF]In Vaesen: Nordic Horror Roleplaying, Vaesen refers to supernatural creatures that are inspired by Nordic folklore and myths. These entities embody the dark and mysterious aspects of the Mythic North. Vaesen can take various forms and often possess eerie and unsettling traits. They include creatures such as trolls, hulders, draugr, nisses, and other mythical beings deeply rooted in…

[paikothecateater]

I've written a few Nordic fics before, and while I'm satisfied with having not released most of them, there's a particular part of one that I just absolutely love. It's about how Norway found Iceland. It's not historically accurate, just a cute little fic I made once, so here it is.

Colonisation was just never something that was on Norway's mind. Sure, he'd love to have his own colony. The power, the influence, all the great things that came with it, but he saw the way Denmark managed his colonies. He saw the way colonisation as a whole was approached and quite frankly, he wanted nothing to do with it.

At first, his initial impression of colonisation was as follows: you find a cute little baby defenseless country, you claim it, and you raise the nation like a human would a child.

However, this image was shattered by Denmark who treated all his colonies in a way that Norway could only describe as inhumane. He was aware that he himself was no saint. He had hurt so many people and helped Denmark bring misery onto innocent societies, but still.

It seemed, these days, that he was willing to ignore his disdain for the concept of colonisation. His boss was actually quite set on finding a colony, so he was more or less forced to.

His journey so far was actually quite pleasant. The crew knew that he wasn't exactly one for the casual conversation, so he was mostly left alone, and sailing on a vessel that didn't really have a set destination was fun. He tried to enjoy the elements of this journey that he could. The cold air hitting his cheeks, the sun weakly reflected in the wooden deck, the light rocking sensation that came with the gentle tide.

He didn't actually expect to find land. It was just a formality in his eyes. Like pretending to look for something you know isn't there just to convince his boss.

But sure enough, the silhouette of an island grew closer to them. Norway's expression briefly reflected deep concern, though he quickly contained it and stood up to get a proper look.

It was truly magnificent. Glaciers so spectacular, so brilliant, so perfect.

Norway suddenly found himself being excited to discover the beautiful land.

The crew began to quickly file onto the dark beach. The sun had already begun to set, so it was perfect timing too. A few members of the crew scouted the area for a perfect campsite. Another group made sure the area was safe and free of predators.

Norway took a look at the crew, ensured their safety, and set off to look. He knew his crew needed rest, but he was determined to explore right then and there.

The seemingly vacant land got more and more magnificent by the second. Norway felt a sense of warmth spreading through him. This land would make a beautiful colony.

He decided to call it a night and lay down on the grass against a rock.

A small puffling seemed to have already claimed the area. Norway laughed at the sight of the little bird casually hanging around the area.

He finally tore away his eyes to look at the sky. The magnificent sight of the aurora borealis could soothe the most troubled soul.

Norway fondly remembered the times he and Denmark wondered about what they were, the northern lights.

Denmark would turn with a wide grin and loudly proclaim.

"they're bridges! To Valhalla!"

Norway would shake his head.

"no, they're the souls of fallen warriors."

They were only children at the time.

Now Norway would be left to wonder on his own.

His eyes slowly closed shut, and he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Still, he made sure to stay alert and to listen to his surroundings.

The distinct sound of a step being taken drew him to his senses. Be it a human or an animal, he had to make a move.

He looked around and... Nothing.

He knew what he heard.

He got to his feet and began looking around for the source.

The puffling was still there, but it couldn't have made the sound, it's a bird.

Norway's eyes fell on a large rock that had been near him when he slept.

He knew then, in his mind and in his soul that whatever made that noise was behind that rock.

"hello?" he called out softly as to not startle whatever it was.

He got no response.

He slowly got closer until he spotted something. A small, pale hand that could only belong to a small child.

He then heard a soft gasp that reinforced his belief that it was in fact a child.

He approached the rock and slowly looked behind it.

A small pair of brilliant pink eyes stared back into his.

Norway leaned over and gently lifted the child.

It was a very small child. Extremely so. Norway determined the baby to be a boy.

If he didn't know better, he'd judge that the baby belonged to a native, but he did know better. He knew that the baby was in fact a nation.

His colony.

Norway was in awe. Nations reflect the natural beauty of the land. They were all extremely beautiful, but this one...

In that moment, Norway truly understood colonisation. He understood the craze. To be near a young nation is to love it.

The baby had long, soft, white hair, uniquely shaped, beautiful, striking pink eyes, soft, delicate pale skin and a long white gown.

It was so beautiful, and yet, still somehow resembled Norway.

He cupped the baby's cheeks and stared directly into it's eyes.

"you're beautiful and I swear to protect you, to raise you, to keep you safe to the best of my abilities. My colony... I'll name you Iceland."

Technically, nations didn't usually get to name their own colonies. That was an honour typically reserved for their bosses, but Norway's boss had given Norway the right to name the colony as he saw fit to get him to be more enthusiastic at the concept of having a colony, or as the nations would refer to it, having a little brother.

Norway held his little Iceland close, feeling this almost primal need to keep him safe. Iceland looked up at his new big brother, and unmistakably smiled.

Norway could not wait to be a big brother.

[skaldish]

are you aware of the tabletop rpg called vaesen? it's really cool and I thought you might find it neat :)

In dark forests, beyond the mountains, by black lakes in hidden groves. At your doorstep. In the shadows, something stirs. Strange beings. Twisted creatures, lurking at the edge of vision. Watching. Waiting. Unseen by most, but not by you. You see them for what they really are. Vaesen. Welcome to the Mythic North – northern Europe of the nineteenth century, but not as we know it today. A land where the myths are real. A cold reach covered by vast forests, its few cities lonely beacons of industry and enlightenment – a new civilization dawning. But in the countryside, the old ways still hold sway. There, people know what lurks in the dark. They know to fear it. Vaesen – Nordic Horror Roleplaying is based on the work of Swedish illustrator and author Johan Egerkrans, Vaesen presents a dark Gothic setting steeped in Nordic folklore and old myths of Scandinavia. The game mechanics use an adapted version of the award-winning Year Zero Engine.

Oh man that looks so cool!

[secretsofthestorymakers]

Translating the Runes in Secrets of the Magic Makers

Ok, so I already said in my previous post (X) that I love Secrets of the Magic Makers and the runic writing in Frozen in general, but now I’m going to actually talk about the translations of the runes.

Most* of the runes shown in Frozen movies and shorts are historically accurate and translatable. They are Younger Futhark runes, used in Nordic regions beginning around the 9th century. The Younger Futhark alphabet has 16 runes and is a simplification of the Elder Futhark, which had 24 originally. The Younger Futhark alphabet was used throughout Scandinavia in the Viking Age and declined after Catholicism was introduced. (Source: Runes Illustrated by Rachel Newcombe)

* I say most because the runes in Olaf’s Frozen Adventure on the bell are not historically accurate. They are simply a direct English transliteration of the words “Ring in the Season”

Disney worked with Old Norse language expert Jackson Crawford (you can find his YT channel here (X)) to ensure that the runes in F1 are historically accurate.

Ok, history lesson over, let’s actually talk about how these runes are relevant to the Frozen story.

I did not translate these myself, although I have kind of taught myself how to now. These translations come from Panya on this website. If you are interested in the detailed translations, I would highly recommend checking it out, as it is truly fascinating!

Here is the cover of the book. It translates roughly to Runes of Knowledge, but I believe this book to also be Secrets of the Magic Makers (see my previous post for full explanation).

The inside of the book is 9 lines of text, repeated twice. It appears to say something like

Someone (subject is unclear) was turned to stone (ice?) by the power of the moon. The trolls from the dark mountain realm have healing hands. A soul wounded from cold will heal if brought very quickly to the field of them (the trolls). Trolls have such a nature that they can get sorcery out of the body to save it. Such action done in true love is the only one which can thaw a heart stoned (frozen?) very quickly.

It isn't exactly clear or easy to read, but I think that it tells the story of an ancient Arendellian (possibly Aren, but that’s mostly just a headcanon) whose heart was frozen by some power of the moon. It goes on to say that trolls have the power to remove magic, but that the only way to thaw a frozen heart is an act of true love.

This is VERY interesting as it implies that someone in the ancient past had a frozen heart. It could just be an old story, something that never actually happened. I personally don’t believe there was ever a single person who was the fifth spirit before Elsa and by extension no human who ever wielded ice powers like hers before. Another option is perhaps whoever it was that angered the spirits in some way or ventured too far into Ahtohallan and began to freeze? Or it could be a figurative frozen heart in the sense of a lack of love and compassion. I suppose only Ahtohallan knows this answer.

The other thing that makes this interesting is that it directly says that an act of true love will thaw a frozen heart. Which means that the answer was right there all along. The entire message of love will thaw was summed up here in runes at the very beginning of the movie. This also means that this was part of an Arendellian myth or story at some point and has been forgotten by the time Elsa is born.

So yeah, not really a big revelation or anything, but it is certainly interesting. I would love to know more details about this story and its origin, but again, only Ahtohallan knows. Overall I do think it's fascinating, as it gives us more information about Ancient Arendellian beliefs and traditions that still hold relevance in the time Frozen is actually set. As someone who is OBSESSED with the ancient myths and stories of Arendelle and the surrounding areas, this is so so intriguing to me and I absolutely love it!

[the-framed-maelstrom]

Puritanism? I am by no means dispos’d to condemn it utterly in the pageant of the world, for it is not life an art, and art a selection? The Puritans unconsciously sought to do a supremely artistic thing–to mould all life into a dark poem; a macabre tapestry with quaint arabesques and patterns from the plains of antique Palaestina … antique Palaestina with her bearded prophets, many gated walls, and flattened domes. The fatuous floundering of the ape and the Neanderthaler they rejected–this and the graceful forms into which that floundering had aimlessly blunder’d–and in place of slovenly Nature set up a life in Gothick design, with formal arches and precise traceries, austere spires and three interesting little gargoyles with solemn grimaces, call’d the father, the son, and the holy ghost. On shifting humanity they imposed a refreshing technique, and an aimless and futile cosmos supply’d artificial values which had real authority because they were not true. Verily, the Puritans were the only really effective diabolists and decadents the world has known; because they hated life and scorned the platitude that it is worth living. Can you imagine anything more magnificent than the wholesale slaughter of the Indians–a very epick–by our New-England ancestors in the name of the lamb? But all aside from that–these Puritans were truly marvelous. They did not invent, but substantially developed the colonial doorway; and incidentally created a simple standard of life and conduct which is, no apart from some extravagant and inessential details and a few aesthetic and intellectual fallacies in all truth the most healthy and practical way of securing happiness and tranquillity which we have had since the early days of Republican Rome. I am myself very partial to it–it is so quaint and wholesome. But not alone in Puritanism is the Nordic’s beneficent influence to be found. Who else could, after the decay of Rome, have revived the aesthetic of strength which in antique days reared to the heavens the colonnades of the Capitolium, the dome of Vesta, the splendours of the Palantine, the walls of the Colisseum, the balconies of the Septizonium, the altitudes of the Pantheon, the colossi and arches of conquering despots, and countless other stone and marble ecstasies of ebullient domination? True, we have never equalled those breathless marvels, for we own ourselves no match for the world-overtopping ROMAN CITIZEN; but alone of all races we have revived–in our master-achievement ENGLAND–that that resistless sway which gave them birth, and have enabled the modern world to share in that delirium of artistic excitement and surging pride which must fill’d every true ROMAN when, looking back from some crest in the road at sunset, he saw limned in flame the gold the domes and columns, vast, prodigious, multitudinous and induplicable, of earth’s supreme apotheosis of dominion — THE IMPERIAL CITY. “Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento; Hae tibi erunt artes: pacisque imponere marem, Parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos.” H.P Lovecraft

[h3lfaerie]

Im curious if FMC is a fae. Would she have wings like other fae depictions ???

Traditionally, faeries are depicted with a wide variety of features.

Accounts of their appearance greatly vary depending on the region the beliefs have come from.

Keep in mind Irish, Scandinavian, Nordic and Celtic folklore may have common roots but they are all very different.

And in some instances the word 'Fae' can be used interchangeably with the word 'Elf' and/or as an umbrella term used to refer to a group of species belonging to the same family (the same way tigers, lions, and house cats are all objectively different but are also all felines).

-> For example, there are The Huldufólk or The Hidden People who are a race of elves that originate from Icelandic/Faroese Folklore. They behave much like humans and bear a strong resemblance to us, but they are also noteworthy for their natural ability to make themselves invisible at will.

(Engraving of a man jumping after a female elf into a precipice.)

-> In traditional Norse Mythology, you have the Álfar. The Ljósálfar ("Light Elves") and the Dökkálfar ("Dark Elves") who are two contrasting types of elves; the dark elves dwell within the earth and have a dark complexion, while the light elves live in Álfheimr (Alfheim), and are "fairer than the sun to look at". They are both attested in the Prose Edda, written in the 13th century by Snorri Sturluson, and in the late Old Norse poem Hrafnagaldr Óðins.

(“Oberon, Titania and Puck with Fairies Dancing” illustration by William Blake, c. 1786)

(“Älvalek” or “Elf Play” although the museum lists it as “Dancing Fairies” - oil painting by August Malmström 1866)

-> In Irish folklore, The Tuatha Dé Danann (meaning "the folk of the goddess Danu") are also known by their earlier name Tuath Dé ("tribe of the gods"), because in some beliefs the Fae are Demoted Pagan Deities. They are described as a supernatural race, much like idealized humans, who are immune from ageing and sickness, and bear the ability to wield magic. The powers most often attributed to the Tuath Dé are control over the weather and the elements, and the ability to shapeshift.

(The Tuatha Dé Danann as depicted in John Duncan's Riders of the Sidhe - 1911)

All in all, in folklore, faeries actually rarely have wings, but they are often depicted with them in Victorian and later artworks.

(A portrait of a fairy, by Sophie Gengembre Anderson - 1869. The title of the painting is Take the Fair Face of Woman, and Gently Suspending, With Butterflies, Flowers, and Jewels Attending, Thus Your Fairy is Made of Most Beautiful Things – from a verse by Charles Ede.)

What I've noticed is that, in the traditional sense, fairies often fly using magic, or by perching on the backs of birds, ragwort stems, or other mythological creatures like dragons or gryphons.

And some depictions are vague enough to attest a certain attribute (like wings) as a creative liberty to a faerie that, say 'lives in the sky'.

But does that mean the Fae in early folklore do not have wings at all?

Absolutely not.

You see, thus far, I've only listed depictions of the Fae that are most reminiscent of the 'traditional Elf'. But have you ever heard of Leprechauns... Banshees... Changelings...Pixies... Mermaids...

Sprites, Goblins, Gnomes?

The freaking Headless Horseman?

Because they're all also faeries.

There are also faerie animals. Heard of Kelpies, anyone?

And quite frankly, it is not possible for me to summarize the scope, the depth and the richness of the cultures depicting these creatures with all of their variants. There are Eastern cultures, Western cultures, Indigenous cultures; I'm Bulgarian and my own culture has beliefs about faeries and Fae-like beings (the Slavs are a whole different ball game when it comes to that).

People dedicate their entire lives to become Folklorists and will still barely scratch the surface. All in all, there's just not one set of rules for the Fae, we can't amalgamize them into one thing, that's just not how it rolls.

So what can I say about my depiction of the Fae in Path of Alfheim?

Well... I have a ton of variety to play around with. 😁

My understanding is that the Fae all vary from each other depending on their lineage, their upbringing, their alignment, the territories and/or 'realms' that they inhabit. There are so many species out there that every shape and form you can possibly think of likely exists.

And besides the faeries that live on land, there are also lake folk, sea folk, mountain folk, valley folk, air folk, a specific corner of the room at night folk.

They can be spirits, ghosts, animals, monsters, elementals, demons, demoted angels, deities, human... It goes on.

Something that hugely inspired me, and what I think is a beautiful depiction of the Fae, happens to be the Disney Maleficent duology with Angelina Jolie as the main female lead. The production had Holly Black, a New York Times best-selling author of over thirty fantasy novels (The Cruel Prince being one of them) and a Faerie Folklorist, on set.

And, oh, would you look at that?

Maleficent has wings. 😉

So whether the FMC does as well is up to the interpretation.... for now.

Thank you for the Ask, Anon! ❤️