#soft margit

[chessentans]

Me: "I want to snuggle into Margit the Fell Omen's tail like it's a Build a Bear Bidoof"

My friend: "what"

Me: "is this not a safe space"

[hollowbonex]

Elden Ring Boss Project Complete

[zcrayas]

From: Wait you slither from the Volcano Manor - the house of that Blasphemous-

To: I refuse to believe that / I will help / fix / protect

[thestuffedalligator]

The giant was in an iron cage that had once held an elephant in the menagerie.

Here in the dungeons, it was still too small for it to sit up in. It was lying on its side, knees drawn up to its chest, facing the opposite wall.

Gretta had been forbidden to see it. Well, no, that wasn’t right – nobody had even told Gretta that it was here. Her sisters and the staff of the castle had apparently been expressly forbidden to tell her, but Margit had a soft heart and told her the night before that they had finally caught the giant.

It stung that even her little sister had been told and that she hadn’t.

She didn’t sleep after that, and she spent the long morning looking for an opportunity to slip away. Now in the gloom of the dungeon, she stood in the entranceway and watched the slow rise and fall of the giant’s breathing.

She could feel the heart in her chest beating, a quick thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump that shook her whole body. Once upon a time the giant was a menace that had pillaged and ransacked the whole western coast of the kingdom. It was a story her mother had told her and her sisters and had made Margit burst into tears in the middle of the night–

“I know that heartbeat.”

Gretta froze. The words had been slow, and low, and had made pebbles on the stone floor shiver.

Chains started to jingle together. “That is a heart I’ve not heard beat in three long years,” the giant said as it started to turn in its cage. “I’d know it anywhere.”

The giant settled on its other side. In the low glow of the dungeon’s torches, its grin gleamed like rubies.

“Hello again,” the giant rumbled. “Do you remember me?”

Gretta swallowed. She remembered–

She remembered being lulled to sleep as the carriage rocked on the highland road. She remembered the door being pulled off its hinges with a shower of splinters. She remembered the grey hand as wide as a wagon wheel reaching out to her–

She remembered waking up with a long, delicate stitch along her sternum.

Her hand reached unthinking to feel the long scar under her shirt.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re the giant who put its heart in my chest.”

“I missed the sound of it. It’s beating fast, so very fast.” The ruby grin flashed again. “Are you frightened of me?”

Gretta stared. Then she set her shoulders and turned her chin up to a haughty angle. “I’m not frightened of an animal in a cage,” she said.

The grin vanished. “Fine,” it said. The chains rattled again as it turned to stare up at the ceiling.

“I want to know why you did it.”

There was a very long, thoughtful pause. For a moment she was worried it wasn’t going to speak.

“I’m sure you guessed,” it finally rumbled. “The queen did – she only caught me to confirm what she already knew. A giant cannot be killed while its heart is outside of its body.” Another sound of metal as it shrugged. “Other giants bury their hearts or hide them in an egg in a duck in a well in a church on an island. I wanted something more… certain.”

“And that’s why you chose me?”

The giant was silent. The heart in her chest continued to beat, thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…

The giant sighed. “It was never meant to be you,” it said. “I meant to grab the seventh daughter.”

Gretta blinked. “Margit?”

“Oh yes. Sweet, simpering, insipid Margit, who still sings with the birds and cries over baby animals. The kingdom would’ve had a conniption over having to kill her to kill me – if they did, it would be such a heinous death that they would remember it for generations in song and story. And I would’ve gotten my immortality either way.

“Instead I got you.” The giant looked back at Gretta and gave her a look of such contempt she nearly reeled. “You,” the giant said again, and she had never heard the word said with more disgust. “Who cares about you.”

“Excuse me!”

“Sixth of seven daughters,” the giant said. “Not the eldest, not the youngest, not even a proper middle child. An extra. A spare. Worthless, except for maybe an interesting marriage.”

“You have no right to–”

“They’ll just kill you.”

The dungeon was suddenly deathly still.

“They won’t be happy about it,” the giant continued, turning to stare at the ceiling again. “They’ll be very somber and austere and I have no doubt that Margit will cry over you, as she does over all little animals about to die. But they’ll say that you’re more valuable dead than I am alive, and so for the sake of the kingdom you will be given the noble task of dying. And that will be the end of us both.”

Gretta opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. She opened her mouth again. “Is that it?! If you’re so sure, why don’t you – why don’t you break out of your chains? Ransack the castle? Run back to your mountain, do something?”

“What an odd thing to say,” the giant said. “You know that if I live, I can escape to murder and pillage and ransack again. Surely, any good princess would want only the best for their people.”

Gretta said nothing. The heart in her chest went thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump…

She could feel the giant’s grin. “The queen had me captured so she could confirm what she already knew,” it said. “It seems to me that you’re here to do something very similar.”

Halfway up the stairs from the dungeon, Gretta ran into her mother.

Gretta stared. Her mother blinked. Gretta considered her options.

She set her head at a haughty angle. “I know you caught it,” she said.

There was a very long, thoughtful pause.

“What did it tell you?” her mother asked.

Gretta looked at her mother. She looked at her mother’s hand on the hilt of her sword.

She felt the beat of her heart go thud-dump, thud-dump, thud-dump.

“Nothing I didn’t already know,” she said.

She ran away that night.

[eggslamwich]

CHARACTER OPINION THING THAT IS LATE DO MORGOTT

Morgott my beloved you're how I got my start 🙏

🍂 favorite thing about them

I have a soft spot for antagonists who are royalty/powerful but also huge fucking losers. I think Morgott is one of the most fleshed out characters in Elden Ring, I love that despite being tragic he's also an awful person who continues to perpetuate the system that opresses him and others like him. There's so much to unpack about Morgott in the character analysis department.

And tail. Tail is nice.

🍂 least favorite thing about them

The fight in Leyndell with him, I don't like how he won't stop fucking moving good lord.

🍂 favorite line

"PUT THESE FOOLISH AMBITIONS TO REST!"

🍂 brOTP

Morgott and Oleg. I didn't even know they had lore together until I saw some fanart and read some fanfiction, Hell yeah let Morgott have a friend.

🍂 OTP

Morgott and Hilde :}

🍂 nOTP

Morgott and Mohg :{

🍂 random headcanon

His skin is very tough and thick, akin to tree bark.

He likes tea, particularly herbal teas.

In his free time he enjoys reading poetry and picking leaves out of his tail.

🍂 unpopular opinion

I like Margit's ost more than Morgott's.

Also he would not have been a good Elden Lord. He was closest thing we had to an Elden Lord in the story and the lands between still sucked ass.

🍂 song i associate with them

🍂 favorite picture of them

I have it on my desk uwu

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

By the Grace Of [Sorcerer Rogier x Fem!Tarnished] - Chapter One

Summary: Rogier meets a Tarnished and finds what he’s been searching for- in more ways than one.

Author’s Notes: 1K words to start! The Tarnished isn’t named in this chapter, but she will be. 😉 thank you to my beloved @halfmoth-halfman for giving me an excuse to post this. 💙

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Elden Ring

Warnings: abstract horror? I think? Unedited (basically), unfinished story- read at your own risk!

If he hadn’t watched it happen, he probably wouldn’t have ever known. He’d just stepped forward to peek out the doorway when a figure landed on the stones before him without a sound. The same Tarnished who’d fought Margit. She froze, lavender eyes locked on him as he paused.

“Ah, nice to meet you. The pleasure’s mine.” When she didn’t move, he went on, turning on his infamous breezy charm. “Rogier’s the name. A sorcerer, as you might’ve guessed.” She straightened slowly, eyeing him warily.

Rogier shifted, growing a bit nervous. He’d thought she might be friendly, after his aid in her fight against the Omen. Now, though he could hardly begrudge her caution, he wasn’t so sure. And she was beautiful in a way that was vaguely intimidating all on its own. Sooty lashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked at him, one slim hand on her sword hilt.

“I’m looking for a little something, here in the castle. When I’m not hotfooting it from the troops, that is.” He cocked a rueful grin, hoping for some expression. Nothing. “But enough about me. What are you doing here in Stormveil Castle? This place is bristling with Tarnished hunters, you know.” He was rambling, now. “They sacrifice our kind, for grafting. Not exactly a place I’d stroll into without a purpose in mind…”

“I’m here to defeat Godrick.” Her voice was soft and rough, low in a way he hadn’t expected. He blinked, momentarily thrown off guard.

“I see. Here to challenge Godrick, and lay your hands upon a Great Rune, are you?” She nodded, and he could feel himself relaxing. If only a bit. Then her gaze seemed to catch on something he couldn’t see before coming back to him. Bitterness flooded his throat, nearly choking him in its intensity. “You can see it then, I take it? The guidance of grace.”

She nodded, and he tried to level his voice when he replied. “Well, enjoy it while you can. I’m Tarnished, like you. But unlike you, I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of this guidance for the longest time.”

Her brow furrowed, and she stepped further into his little sanctuary. Rogier tried to mask the sharp spike of anxiety he felt, and was grateful when she came no further. He felt naked under her sharp gaze, pierced through and stripped of all his cavalier defenses. He tried to keep the panic and exasperation from his voice. “Still, I won’t forget how it felt when I first came here, to the Lands Between.” He’d erred too far on the side of caution. His voice was far more wistful than he would have liked.

The Tarnished hummed, finally taking her eyes from him to look around the room. He breathed out sharply, relieved. They rested for a moment on his fire, and Rogier extended a hand. After a moment’s hesitation, the Tarnished sat. Rogier realized that she was just as nervous as he. On the one hand, it filled him with pride that he could intimidate a warrior as fierce as she. On the other, it filled him with relief to have a peaceful encounter like this. Had she any wish to strike at him, she’d have done it by now.

“I’m privy to a few magical battle arts,” he blurted. She looked up, eyebrows raised. Rogier stumbled on, lowering himself to sit across the fire from her. “Would you care to learn one? As a fellow Tarnished, once guided by grace, I’d love to help you out, if it please.”

A wry smile quirked one corner of her lips, highlighting a fine scar there. “I’m afraid I’ve no aptitude for magic. Cold steel’s more my speed.”

“Oh?” Rogier grinned. He drew his rapier, carefully, holding it out handle first. The Tarnished took it gently from his hands, turning the blade this way and that reverently. “Keen to learn another battle art, are we?”

She looked up, then back to the hilt in her hands. “It’s a fine blade,” she admitted, turning it back toward him. He took it from her hands and leaned back to slide the blade into its sheath. The soft hiss of steel raised his eyes, but he found only another hilt before him.

Rogier’s eyebrows lifted. The blade was rusted, chipped in places and somewhat dull. “You used this… to fight Margit?”

She shrugged a muscled shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes. “I’ll replace it eventually. Just haven’t found anything better, yet.” She looked up then. “Thank you, by the way.” At his blank look, she went on. “For helping me.”

“Oh, that. Of course. As I said, fellow Tarnished and all that. Happy to help you out.”

She hummed again, tilting her head. “That doesn’t seem to be the case amongst us all.”

Rogier grimaced. “Come across someone less friendly?”

“Several someones, in fact.” He waited, but she offered no further comment before standing. “Thank you for sharing your fire with me. I’d best be getting on, though.” And off she went through the door, silently as she’d come. As eager as Rogier had been to escape from her eyes, her absence left him feeling bereft of comfort. He sat for a long while after she went, watching the space where she’d been.

There was a certain despair that accompanied meeting new Tarnished. Sometimes, when they were particularly rude, Rogier allowed himself to gleefully imagine the moment that they, too, lost the ability to see the guidance as he had. But only for a wink.

Tonight, he found himself hoping that just this once, that moment might take a long, long time. Perhaps even long enough that he could discern what made her attention so captivating.

And in the depths of the castle, pierced with Death itself and barely able to drag himself away, as he crawled on shaking arms, fumbling his Roundtable medallion out of his pocket, the only thing that kept him awake enough to escape was the memory of those eyes, burning into and through him. The memory of feeling, and the hope of feeling again, seen. Truly seen, for the first time.

[monstrousvoice]

Hi, followed after your latest chapter, so anyway thought you would enjoy the mental image of Morgott trying certain foods for the first time as King.

Normally he wouldn't partake in fancy [to him] foods, but sometimes there's dinners meant to serve for strengthening the nobility's measure of him. And it would look suspicious as hell if everyone BUT him ate.

So I just keep imagining him trying honey cakes, roast boar, chicken, fruits from orchards he half saw during a initial patrol as Margit. All while trying to keep a straight face. Hell, warm food that isn't burnt in some way probably feels weird to him for a while.

I don't know, i just keep imagining he purposely saves eating those things for when he Has to because he likes them So Much that it becomes a thing he denies himself-- like a bed or tailored clothes.

I have thoughts and your fic hasn't helped stop them.

Oh Anon you sweet bean!!

I do think that Morgott is the type to deny himself any simple pleasures when he can. Sleeping? Anywhere that is out of the way of others and that gets the job done. Doesn't matter if he wakes up feeling sore and uncomfortable, a being like him doesn't deserve the luxury of a bed.

Clothing? The same story. He is dedicated to protecting his city and the Erdtree, any fine clothing would be torn to shreds during battle, not to mention it only hinders his movements. What does it matter if his wishes to feel soft cotton against his skin instead of coarse fibers that are worn and frayed and smell of his own sweat? He hasn't earned the right to feel such things. He has always wanted to see if he would look...somewhat less horrifying if he was dressed in clothing that had his mother's gold as an accent color. Would he seem less shameful to her then?

And food? Food is the most tempting and cruel thing he denies himself. Fun fact, the short I'm finishing up and going to post next goes over this issue a little more 👀

When he first donned the Mimic Veil and took his place as king, he actually could not eat the food given to him. His body was malnourished (still is actually) and the food was so rich in nutrients for him that his body couldn't handle it.

But he was so hungry.

He is ashamed for it, but it was a night where he actually caved into his shameful desires and ate as much of the food he could get his hands on. It smelled so delicious...A smell he had only ever caught a whiff of while hiding in the shadows of sewer tunnels, when the common folk walked above him eating and selling from carts.

He ate, and ate, and ate. Until he could eat no more.

And he very quickly regretted it. His stomach roiled and rebelled against the onslaught of rich proteins and pure sugars, and he was sick. He threw everything back up almost as quickly as he had caved to his desires and scarfed it down.

Months later, when he was studying in the library, he would learn that the reason for his sickness was indeed due to his malnourished state, but at the time? He had thought it was a fitting punishment by Grace, the Greater Will, for succumbing to his cravings and eating the food that belonged to the people more deserving than him.

If he must eat, such as at a party of nobility, he eats the very bare minimum regardless of how his stomach may growl and beg. The sights and scents alone can be overwhelming for his advanced senses, but he manages to pull through.

As his Lord Consort (and possibly God depending on how you like to think you got married to him) you take it upon yourself to help him with these issues. Its a long and arduous process, one that has the both of you get angry or cry or feel like giving up. But the key to being Morgott's beloved? You're just as stubborn as he is.

You help him with these habits and even encourage him to improve himself more. For the food in particular, there are a couple ways to convince him to eat. You can guilt trip him, or make it a secret and reward.

Guilt tripping is when his response to your prodding is anger, which happens the most in the beginning. If he's in a mood where he refuses to eat and gets angry when you convince him otherwise? Bring out the crocodile tears and sniffling. He's going to let all this wonderful food, made just for him, go to waste? Food that the chefs spent hours on, just to be thrown into the back alleys for the rats to eat? When there are those out there who don't have anything at all? This triggers his memories of being a starved child...and he finds he can't actually send you away.

The method of making it a secret and reward is the most common way to convince him to eat, and the most effective. Take a couple bites of the meal yourself, lay it on a little thick how good it tastes, how wonderful it is, to get his attention. When he looks to you, say you got it for him but it's so delicious you couldn't help but sneak a bite. He doesn't mind, truly. It's the exact opposite actually, he is rather happy to know that you are fed and healthy.

Then offer it to him as intended. When he tries to refuse, make it into a "game". You won't tell anyone, least of all the Greater Will, that he ate some of the meal. It's your shared secret, and no one else will ever find out. And if it's a secret between just the two of you...then it's okay to do it this one time, yes? Just one time, he'll take a bite and be done with it.

But then he chews and swallows...and you praise him. Tell him that you're so proud he actually ate! And it was so tasty right? Maybe he should take another bite, just to really savor the taste and texture. It's just a small part to add to your new secret! No one will know...

And before he knows it...the whole meal is gone. Sitting comfortably in his very full belly and giving his body the nourishment it's been craving. Eventually he gets so used to these little "secret" food meetings between you both, he doesn't even need you to pretend any longer. You can just come in and settle down with him and hold his food out, and he takes it without hesitation.

[november-rayne]

Chapter Thirty-One: The Wedding

Summary: There are wedding bells ringing in Asgard! The big day has finally arrived.

Word Count: 5200

Rating: Mature

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Chapter Index

“I said good morning, Your Highness. Happy wedding day!”

Loki blinked at his maid as the sound of those words tumbled around in his head without meaning. Slowly, his mind caught up to his body, and the realization set in.

‘I get married today.’

What had always been an obscure notion, some far-off concept that never applied to him, was now impending. In a matter of hours, he would make vows, changing the direction of his life. Breaking up the pavement of the road he thought he would travel and sending him down a path that he had scarcely paid any mind to.

‘My wedding is today.’

A day that seemed distant into the future was now here. ‘Wedding day’ had just been a term people would use in conversation with him, asking if he was looking forward to his wedding day, what would he wear on his wedding day, or, have these projects finished by the wedding day. But today was his wedding day. Now it was real, and now it was tangible. The wedding day had arrived from its far-off place.

The weeks leading up to today had been relaxed, relatively speaking. Getting fitted for his wedding clothes felt like any other appointment with his tailor. Deciding on a new apartment and picking out furniture with Sigyn had been quick and easy.  Picking out Sigyn’s ring and buying her wedding presents was fun for him. But now, the day had dawned. He was suddenly filled with nervous energy.

He was sweating for no reason and asked Margit to open all the windows, despite the early morning nip in the air. He paced around his empty apartment like a caged animal until it was time to meet his mother for breakfast. Loki could not concentrate on their conversation, causing the Queen to repeat herself several times. She encouraged him to eat, but his jittery stomach persuaded him otherwise. He consumed only a few cups of strong tea and some toasted bread.

Frigga held both of his hands in hers and tried to calm him to no avail. She dismissed him with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek, sending him off so they could start their preparations.

He returned to his chambers to find a team of people waiting for him. His hair was washed and trimmed, and his eyebrows were tidied up. His feet were soaked and scrubbed, and his toenails were cut and buffed. He bathed himself, needing a few minutes alone to try and calm his nerves.

After he dragged himself from the bathtub, he inspected his body in the mirror. The deep gouges were now faint narrow lines. The bruises were mostly gone, apart from a stubborn few. He rolled his shoulder and felt no resistance. His ribs still hurt, but the pain was more tolerable with each passing day. Broken bones needed time to mend themselves, even for a God.

After donning a robe, he was instructed to sit at a narrow table. A man started on the braids in his hair as a woman worked on his hands, pushing back his cuticles, and filing his nails. He sat with his eyes closed.

To an outsider, the prince would appear haughty and aloof, sitting there not paying attention to the people serving him. But in reality, the rhythmic pulling and tugging on his scalp had lulled him into a calm meditation. He did not allow himself to think ahead of this moment. He focused solely on the sensation of the physical touch of the woman as she massaged oils into each nail bed and the man as he created the plaits so deftly.

When the woman had finished, he felt her thumbs trace his knuckles, then give his hands a soft lingering squeeze under the guise of checking her work before she gathered her supplies and left. Loki smirked internally but kept his face neutral as he recalled the countless times he had caught Sigyn staring at his hands.

The man finished with his hair and held up a mirror for approval. Loki turned his head back and forth, admiring the artistry and skill. Three plaits of varying width on each side, with small gold rings strategically braided in. A thick braid started at his forehead and went to his crown, which was tied off with a strip of leather, creating a ponytail that blended in with the rest of his hair that was left loose.

“Impressive work.” Loki nodded to the man. “I am very pleased.”

A large smile broke across the man’s face. “Thank you, Your Highness.” He bowed as Loki stood and stretched. That had taken longer than he realized.

The prince was offered a light lunch, which he picked at, taking just a few bites of everything; his nerves slowly returning.

When his brother entered, he sat pushing his food around on his plate with his fork. His tailor and a few servants followed him.

“Aye, Brother! Happy wedding day!” He slapped his shoulder as he took the seat next to him. Stealing a roll from the platter on the table, he said, “I am sorry I am late.”

“I have been getting ready for hours. Have you just gotten out of bed?”

“Of course not. I had a bath before I came over.” He looked his brother over, “Wicked braids. Are you naked?”

“Get off of me.” Loki slapped his hand away before he could push his robe aside. “I am getting ready to get dressed.” Thor gave him a grin as he chewed.

“Should I even ask why you are late? Your stupid grin gives you away.” Loki could not help but smile. His older brother’s mere presence instantly improved his nervous tension.

“I had an unexpected visitor when I returned to my chambers last night. She was intent on disturbing my rest.”

Loki pushed his collar aside, “And marking her territory, it seems.”

“What?” Thor dumped the remainder of the rolls unceremoniously onto the table, holding the silver platter up to study his reflection. A bluish-purple bloom was peeking out over his collar. “Oh, that little… I suppose I deserved that. Mother will have my hide.”

“Relax, Brother.” Loki touched the love bite with his finger, and it faded away with a green shimmer. “There. That little illusion should keep you out of trouble for a few hours.”

Thor studied his reflection, “Thank you, Brother. You are a lifesaver.”

“Excuse me, Your Highness. We must start dressing you now to remain on schedule.” The tailor’s assistant curtsied in front of the table.

Loki nodded to her silently, swallowing thickly.

“Hey, look at me.” Thor put his hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Don’t be nervous. We are headed to a party! Parties are nothing to fret about. We just have to get this pesky little ceremony out of the way first.”

Loki laughed, “Right. I will try to keep that in mind.”

oOXOo

Thor sat to have his hair braided as Loki was dressed. The ensemble was well-made and beautiful without being grandiose. He did not want to compete with his bride for attention. Sturdy black leather boots that stopped just below the knee. Trousers of black leather with dark green panels down the sides. They were not skin-tight, but they did an excellent job of accentuating the shape of his butt and highlighting his muscular thighs.

His waistcoat was made from the same supple black leather. It was embellished with forest green trim. The coat was indeed where the tailor’s skill was put on display.

The leather and metalwork were the finest Loki had ever seen. The coat was long and buttonless with a high neck and modest lapels, black leather with dark green embellishments. It enhanced the prince’s narrow waist and strong shoulders. Gold metal epaulets on each shoulder matched the gold vambraces on his forearms. The tailor’s apprentice fastened a sweeping forest green cape to his shoulders.

Loki stood and admired his reflection in the full-length mirror. His tailor was at his side, running his hands over the leather, searching for any imperfections. There were none.

“Very well done. I could not be more pleased.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” He motioned to a large ornate box on the table, “Shall we finish off the look?” Loki nodded and sat in the chair Thor had just exited.

A special coronet was crafted for the occasion. It was solid gold and open at the top. It was made so that the bulk of the crown was in front, covering the forehead as pieces on the side came down under his cheekbones from his temples. The back was thin, easily hidden under his hair, his intricate braids still displayed. Two horns on the front curved up to mimic the look of his helmet.

Loki stood again and regarded his reflection once the final touch was added. He was turning his head from side to side and running his hands down his chest.

“Baby Brother…” Loki caught Thor’s gaze in the mirror. He was shaking his head in disbelief. “You have never looked better.”

Loki turned to thank him and looked Thor over.

“And look at you. You do clean up nicely.”

“Ah, thank you. But I don’t know how you all go about with sleeves every day.” Thor traded his usual sleeveless tunics for a proper coat and vest today. He rolled his shoulders and swung his arms. “So constricting.”

“I promise you can ditch the coat as soon as Father starts the feast.”

“I am looking forward to it.” They regarded each other quietly for a moment. “Are you ready?”

Loki heard the double meaning in his question.

“I am ready.”

oOXOo

The pair of princes made their way to the front entrance of the palace. The King and Queen met them shortly after, dressed in their finery, crowns in place.

They had planned to all ride together to the venue in the King’s most opulent coach. It was gold and gleaming in the afternoon sun at the base of the stairs. The horses tasked with pulling said coach were adorned with ceremonial bridals and blankets, their manes and tails braided. Large golden feathered headpieces glittered under the bluebird sky.

Flagbearers hoisting the House of Odin sigils and rows of Einherjar on horseback were waiting to follow.

No stranger to the pomp and circumstance or the splendor the palace could display, Loki paused as he stood in the courtyard. The scene that surrounded him caused a lump to form in his throat. The entirety of the palace staff and their families had come out to see them off. Cheering wildly as the family of four made their way across the courtyard. He heard chants of his name, and they were tossing handfuls of flower petals as he passed.

He could not help but smile wide when he spotted Margit and her family at the front of the crowd. She had changed out of her uniform, her long silver hair undone from her usual bun. Standing beside her husband, she had a grandchild clinging to her skirt. Loki winked and waved at her. She beamed at him, a look of pride lighting up her face.

He gave one last wave to the crowd before climbing into the coach behind his family. The footman secured the door, and they were off.

“What a lovely send-off,” Frigga said as she fixed her skirts. “And you boys look so handsome.”

Loki could only nod in response.

He was quiet the entire ride out of the city, staring out the window, watching the faces of the citizens who had lined the streets as they passed. He would occasionally raise his hand to wave from behind the glass.

At one point he glanced over and caught his father watching him. A gentle smile rested on Odin’s lips. Loki could feel the unspoken affection.

The princes were not unaware that each of their parents had a favored son, but it was always nice to be reminded that they were still loved by the other. At this moment, Frigga was stroking Thor’s hair with one hand and patting the top of his hand with the other, speaking in hushed tones about something.

Loki returned his father’s smile and then continued to watch the cheering crowds. The city streets slowly melded into suburban lanes, then country roads. The road meandered through a dense forest; the ancient trees blocked out the sun.

When the coach finally reached the other side of the forest, the enormous stone amphitheater loomed large on the horizon. Pavilions and tents of varying sizes and colors had been erected in the fields. Merchants had set up temporary stalls, selling food and drink to the thousands of people who had come from miles around to watch the ceremony.

People started running to the road when the sound of pounding hoofs announced their approach. Loki wanted to smile and wave to the people, but the sight of the venue had started a hurricane of butterflies in his stomach. Thor noticed his brother’s quick change in demeanor.

“Hey, Brother?” Loki looked at him, almost startled to hear his voice. “Just a little bit closer to that party, right? Not much longer before we put a major dent in Father’s stock of mead, yeah?”

He relaxed a bit at the levity. Odin and Thor started bantering about who could drink more, as Frigga was trying to gently remind them to be on their best behavior.

The gates opened for them, and their coach made its way to the back of the amphitheater, where they would finish their ride and go in the back entrance, out of the view of the people. The Royal family was escorted to a room under the stands. They were given snacks and drinks and the once-over by the wedding planners to ensure they looked just as pristine as they did when they stepped out of the palace.

Loki could hear the sound of hundreds of voices talking at once as guests were starting to file into their seats. Thor convinced him to sit and quit pacing, but he turned down the food offered. He asked for the hundredth time if Thor still had the ring, and Thor laughed as he patted his breast pocket in confirmation.

After what seemed like an eternity but was, in actuality, only twenty minutes, the crowds outside the gates erupted in another round of screams and cheers. “That must be the bride and her family arriving.” One of the planners mentioned to another as she checked the watch hanging from the chain on her belt. “Right on time.”

Loki could sit no longer. He had to get up and move. The windowless room started causing him to feel claustrophobic. “Can we move to the altar now?” he asked the woman with the clipboard, standing by the door.

“Apologies, Your Highness, not quite yet. Her Ladyship and her family are being escorted to the room across the hall to freshen up from their journey. We cannot risk having you crossing paths before the ceremony begins.”

“Of course not.” Loki released a deep breath, “Bad luck and all that. I understand.”

Loki’s heart started pounding in his chest as he heard Sigyn’s laughter on the other side of the door. He made out the words ‘Papa, behave. Rina, do not encourage him…’ before the door closed behind her.

Shortly after, there was a tap on their door, and they were led into the hall. Loki stared at the door across from theirs. His love was in there. She made the journey. She had not had a change of heart; she did not flee. She was mere feet from him. He wanted to open the door and lay eyes on her, but he would have to settle for the sound of her muffled voice through the thick wooden door.

“Let us move to the exit.” Thor put his hand on Loki’s back.

“Just a second.” The planner gasped as Loki put his hand flat on Sigyn’s door. “I am not going to open it.” He reassured her, then he heard Sigyn stop talking.

“Loki, is that you?” Her voice was closer to the door now. “You decided to show up after all?”

“I told you, only my untimely death would keep me away. You look beautiful, sweetling.”

“Norns, Loki! Can you see me?”

“No.” he smiled, “You are always beautiful.”

“Don’t you dare make me cry.”

“They are telling me I must go now. I will see you soon.”

“Yes, see you soon,” her voice tight with emotion.

oOXOo

The ancient stone arena was built around an even more ancient marble monolith. The enormous pillar rose out of the ground, high into the air. The entirety of the vertical slab was covered from top to bottom in ancient runes. It was one of the most mysterious places in Asgard, as the site's existence predated history. The site was where the most sacred ceremonies were held, either under the sun during the day or under the stars at night.

Flat stone pavers circled the monolith. A blanket of lush green grass circled the pavers. Paths from the tunnels leading out from under the structure led to the center, where the ancient slab served as an altar.

Boughs of fragrant flowers were everywhere, draped over every portico, hanging from the pews, and running along each side of the paths leading to the altar. An arch of twisted branches and vines was constructed for today’s event and erected in front of the monolith. Wisteria hung from everything, making the whole venue feel ethereal.

Once the stands were full of Asgardian citizens, The invited guests and family members were ushered into the center of the arena to stone pews in the grass facing the altar.

Finally, the ceremony could begin.

As the music started, Loki took several deep breaths to steady himself.

The officiant in his ceremonial garb headed to the altar first, followed by Loki, flanked by the King and Queen. Hushed exclamations of excitement rushed through the crowd, leaving the cheers and shouts for outside of the sacred space. Loki bowed to his parents as they took their seats. He waited under the arch with his hands clasped together behind his back. He watched intently as Thor escorted Kaarina out of the tunnel and down the path toward the altar.

Kaarina looked radiant. She was dressed in the colors of Sigyn’s house. Her silver skirts fluttered around her ankles, and the bodice was black brocade with silver and emerald-green embroidery creating intricate patterns of leaves and flowers. A braid at each temple met on the back of her head, and they were secured with a silver barrette encrusted with emeralds. The rest of her golden blonde hair flowed down her back in waves.

Thor patted Loki’s back as he took his place beside him, beaming with pride. The music changed, and everyone rose to their feet. Loki fought to maintain his composure. His legs were trembling beneath him, his breaths were shallow, and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. 

And then he saw her. She was flanked by her parents as she exited the tunnel.

Loki’s hand flew up to cover his gaping mouth. His knees threatened to buckle. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

She was stunning.

The sight of her took his breath away. Her dress was all white except for the lace that trimmed the off-the-shoulder neckline and covered the bodice. The lace was silver and gold with emerald-green patterns woven in. The dress was fitted from her chest to below her hips, where it fluted out gently like an upside-down calla lily. A semi-opaque white cape flowed from the lace neckline and swept the ground several feet behind her. The radiant aura of her element pulsed from her like a heartbeat.

Her thick dark hair was braided on each side and joined at the base of her skull to combine and create an elaborate knot of plaits. Delicate baby’s breath was tucked into her chignon on the back of her head. Her elegant neck and shoulders were unobstructed from view on all sides. She carried a small bouquet of greenery and simple baby’s breath bound with a thin golden ribbon. 

Loki’s heart stuttered in his chest when she lifted her gaze from her feet to look into his eyes and smile at him. Her lips were rouged a sultry red, and she had lined her upper eyelids with black kohl, making her emerald eyes and thick black lashes stand out even more.

A wide smile broke across his face. All his nervousness and trepidation instantly vanished, and he was filled with an immense feeling of joy.

Thor touched Loki’s shoulder and spoke close to his ear. “The loveliest in all the Nine, Brother.”

“Yes, Brother. And I am the luckiest in the Nine.” Loki ran his hand over his mouth to his chest, never taking his eyes off her.

As she got closer, he noticed a subtle iridescent shimmer from the mica powder dusted on her collarbones and the tops of her cheeks. She honestly looked like something from a dream, otherworldly and enchanting.

Sigyn and her parents bowed and curtsied to the King and Queen and then to the princes. Lord Anderson clasped Loki’s hand and gave it a single firm shake. Loki bowed in turn as His Lordship slipped Sigyn’s hand into Loki’s outstretched palm, handing over his only daughter to the second Prince of Asgard. He wiped a single tear from his cheek with his thumb as he led his wife to their seats across the aisle from Loki’s parents.

Sigyn passed her bouquet to Kaarina then Loki took both of her hands in his. Facing each other, she arched an eyebrow and shook her head as she ran her eyes up and down his form. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her breathless but settled for a slow kiss to her knuckles instead.

The intoxicating citrus scent of her skin mingled with the heady aroma of the surrounding flowers made Loki’s head spin. Could someone die of elation? He felt like he was halfway to Valhalla.

The music faded out, and the murmurs and excited whispers died down as the officiant raised his hand to the crowd.

“Esteemed citizens of Asgard, respected guests, honored family; His Majesty the King welcomes you to this blessed event. We are all gathered here, under the watchful eye of the Nornir, to join His Royal Highness, Prince Loki, son of His Majesty, the King, Odin the Allfather, Protector of the Nine Realms, in divine matrimony to Her Ladyship Sigyn, daughter of His Lordship Erik Anderson, Warden of the North, decorated General in the Army of Asgard. Please be seated.”

The Celebrant opened the ancient-looking book to a page marked with an ornate ribbon. “It is our intention today to unite these two young people into a sacred union, to unite their houses, to bring two families into one. His Majesty has deemed this unity valuable, and we ask that the Nornir bless this couple as they begin a life together as husband and wife...”

Readings followed the opening statements, followed by songs sung by a choir, more readings, more singing, prayers to the Norns, more singing, and more readings. Loki and Sigyn would make eye contact and try to suppress smiles during the solemn readings, gentle finger squeezing back and forth when specific passages resonated with one of them.

After what felt like hours, it was time for the handfasting.

Three cords to symbolize the three Nornir: a cord of blue representing fidelity, a cord of green representing fertility, and a cord of red representing love were braided together. A young woman dressed in a ceremonial sheath and a crown of vines wrapped the braided cords around each of their wrists and tied a knot tightly in the center, binding them together.

The officiant held one hand over the knot and instructed Sigyn to recite her vows. She looked deep into his eyes.

“Loki, I freely choose you and promise to choose you as my husband every day of my life. I will love you in word and deed. I will laugh with you, cry with you, scream with you, and grow with you. I vow to be your wife and partner in all of life’s adventures. Loving what I know of you and trusting you, I give you my hand. I give you my love. And I give you my body. I give you myself: the good, the bad, and everything in between.

“I promise to be your guiding light in the darkness, a warming comfort in the cold, and a shoulder to lean on when life is too much to bear on your own. I vow to protect you from harm, to stand with you against your troubles, and to look to you when I need protection.

“I love you wholeheartedly, with a passion that cannot be expressed in words, only kisses.” She bit her lip, and Loki and the rest of the crowd chuckled. “I promise to be your faithful and loving wife for as long as I live.”

Loki’s heart swelled to bursting. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. He never dreamed this day would come. He never knew a love like this. He squeezed her fingers and took a deep breath.

“Sigyn…” Overcome with emotion, he had to stop and clear his throat. “Sigyn, your love gives me hope where I had none before. Your smile gives me joy. You make me a better man. When I am with you, everything else fades into the background. You flood my senses. You are my greatest gift. You are my life. You are the strength I never knew I needed and the happiness I never knew I lacked.

“I promise to cherish and respect you. I promise to care for you and protect you. I promise to comfort you and encourage you. I promise to support your dreams and ambitions. You will make this world such a wonderful place to raise our children.

“You are everything I never knew I wanted. Forever with you is not enough, but I vow to make the most of every moment from this day forward. Today I join my life to yours, not simply as your husband, but as your friend, your lover, and your biggest supporter. Today I give you my heart, my mind, and my body. Take what you need from me. I offer it freely. I vow to remain your faithful husband and love you from now until the day I die.”

Sigyn’s lip quivered. She swallowed thickly as a single tear slid over her cheek.

The officiant placed his hand on the knot, and a white glow emanated from his touch. Using his seiðr, he removed the cords from their wrists with the knot intact and handed it to Thor.

“The rings.” The officiant collected the rings from Kaarina and Thor. “Lady Sigyn, place this ring on his finger and repeat after me: I, Sigyn, daughter of Erik...”

“I, Sigyn, daughter of Erik…”

“do freely choose this man to be my husband. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“do freely choose this man to be my husband. With this ring, I thee wed.”

Lady Anderson sobbed into her handkerchief.

“Your Highness, place this ring on her finger and repeat after me. I, Loki, son of Odin…”

“I, Loki, Son of Odin...”

“do freely choose this woman to be my wife. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“do freely choose this woman to be my wife. With this ring, I thee wed.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, good people of Asgard, let it be known; the vows have been made, and the knot has been tied. What the Norns have brought together, let no one break apart. By the power vested in me, by His Majesty the King, under the watchful eyes of the Nornir, and in the shade of Yggdrasill, I pronounce you husband and wife. Your Highness, you may now kiss your bride.”

Loki placed one hand on the side of her face and dried her cheek with his thumb before leaning over and kissing her lips softly. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him as thousands of people stood and applauded. He slid his hand to the back of her head and pressed into her. She parted her lips for him, and his tongue gently greeted hers. Sigyn wrapped her arms around his chest, raised onto her toes, and deepened the kiss. Loki’s other arm snaked around her body, and he bent his knees and lifted her off the ground. Her feet dangled a few inches from the pavers.

The officiant raised his hand to the crowd and cleared his throat. The applause tapered off. He cleared his throat again. Thor nudged Loki in the back, “Save some for later.”

Loki broke their kiss, “Huh?... Oh, right.”

They righted themselves, and Sigyn took her bouquet back from Kaarina.

Odin rose from his spot in the audience. The officiant bowed as the King reached the arch and took his place. “Congratulations, my son.”

Loki bowed, “Thank you, Father. For everything.”

Odin turned to Sigyn, “Welcome to my family, my dear.” She made to curtsey, but the king pulled her into a warm embrace and spoke softly into her ear. “Thank you for being so good for my son. I know I am a poor substitute for your own father, but I intend to treat you as if you were one of my own children.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She patted his back with her hand.

“Please, you may call me Father if you like.”

At a loss for words, she just nodded.

Odin released her and motioned for a page to come forward with a shiny lacquered box in his hands. “Please kneel.”

With a hand from Loki, Sigyn knelt before the King. Her breath caught in her throat when he opened the box, and she saw the glittering tiara inside. It was dainty, solid gold, encrusted with hundreds of diamonds and emeralds in an ornate pattern. He placed the circlet on her head and motioned for her to stand.

“Good people of the realm, it is my honor to present to you for the first time, Her Royal Highness, Princess Sigyn of Asgard.”

Thunderous applause erupted all around the arena. Sigyn’s mother was sobbing uncontrollably. Her father stoically wiped tears from his cheeks. Frigga dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

Sigyn waved to the gathered crowd. Loki watched her in awe. She was every bit a princess, already adored by the people. He slipped his hand around her waist under her cape, squeezing her hip, and pulled her closer to his side.

“How are you faring, wife?” He spoke close to her ear so she could hear him over the noise of the crowd.

“I am overflowing with happiness, husband.” She tilted her face to him so he could kiss her lips.

“Oh Princess, there are so many more good things yet to come.”

Sigyn's Dress Inspiration

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags. Thanks!

XOXO - Rayne 💚

Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @superficialdomina @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @smolvenger @trickster-maiden @simone818283 @gruftiela @huntress-artemiss @tmlbdv @ladymischief11 @meowmeow-motherfucker

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

weak, pathetic, mean, hateful, and cruel characters are just my favorite. Gatekeeper Gostoc? I have a soft spot for him that rivals the texture of a 3 week old banana. Blackguard Big Boggart? I want nothing more than to bond with him while eating shellfish. Margit the Fell Omen? I need him carnally.

[archduchessofnowhere]

Princess Maria Teresa von Hohenzollern, née Princess Bourbon-Two Sicilies, by Philip de László, 1900

De László stayed with the Imperial German family at the end of 1899 and in early 1900 to paint a formal half-length portrait of Maria Teresa von Hohenzollern. It was presumably at the end of his stay at Potsdam that he made the present portrait, which he asked his sitter to sign for him to keep as a souvenir in his collection. De László also made a very similar drawing of her in charcoal, for her to keep as a memento. An unsourced French press cutting in de László’s archive suggests that it was one of these two drawings which the artist showed in Rome, in Bishop Fráknoi’s house, alongside the portraits he had just completed in the Holy City, most notably those of Pope Leo XIII and Cardinal Rampolla, but also of Maria Teresa’s mother Mathilde, Countess of Trani. [x]

Like so many of his sitters, the Princess became fond of him and his wife and soon after his visit she wrote to him: “I want to thank you from the depth of my heart for the pleasure you have given to my Baroness [her lady-in-waiting, Baroness Lilly Goeler von Ravensburg] and to me. It is with a feeling of soft melancholy that I now go to the studio where, thanks to you, I have spent so many agreeable hours. I should be tremendously pleased if it were possible for you to come to Potsdam in August. You must be with us from breakfast-time onward, and we will spoil you terribly and take care of you. [...] I shall always think of you in faithful friendship and attachment as long as I live, and whenever I can help you in my humble way I shall always be ready to do so, wherever I am. You must feel how grateful I am to you. God bless you and save you throughout your life. This is my sincere desire. Don’t quite forget your Margit.” [x]

The de László Archive

[hollowbonex]

Elden Ring Boss Countdown to Shadow of the Erdtree #4: Margit/Morgott

[immortal-elements]

So, I finally beat Elden Ring, (technically for the second time, but this is my first time doing ng+)

It's honestly really fun being able to nuke early bosses with my endgame gear. We already knew that comet azur go BRRRRR, but holy moly does it melt things in ng+.

Get out of the tutorial dungeon, immediately nuke tree sentinel, run directly to Margit and nuke him, run through stormveil and nuke godric. Did you know you can 1 phase godric if you just kill him as he is chopping off his hand?

Man, I know that there is going to be a moment where I realize "damn, this game is actually hard again", but it's actually really pleasant when it's a cakewalk. My damage is gonna fall off, I'm already at the intelligence soft-cap, and there's not much I can improve besides maybe actually leveling endurance above 9 so I can equip actual armor.

If anyone is curious, my build is moonveil, azur's Glintstone staff and carian royal scepter, both graven mass and graven school talisman, radagon's icon, and a flex slot for talismans, my physic was the tear that boosts sorceries, and the one that eliminates FP consumption for a brief time. 30ish mind, 80 intelligence, enough dex to wield moonveil, and the rest of the points went into vigor. Not even gonna lie, I made it all the way through Altus Plateau and Caelid on 9 vigor.

[catcas22]

Idril Stormsbane (edited for proofreading, a few things I forgot to add, and pictures)

Figured I’d go ahead and introduce my tarnished.

Idril Stormsbane is a classic sword-and-board strength build who keeps getting mixed up in mage business. A solid and dependable sort with an amazing poker face. She gives off the vibe of a thug with a boxing glove where her brain should be, but that’s not true -- she is of perfectly average intelligence. Sometimes she can use this to her advantage (Seluvis learned this the hard way).

Generally a bit grim, or at least politely distant. But she does have a soft spot for people genuinely in need of help. She’ll go to rather impressive lengths to help the unfortune souls she meets along the road, all while grumbling about how she doesn’t have time for this.

Began her journey as a vagabond knight. She returned to the Lands Between more or less for lack of any better prospects, then took Melina’s accord. It was the only decent thing to do, really, she did owe Melina for fishing her body out of the ravine under the Chapel of Anticipation.

Came to the decision to defy the Golden Order almost accidentally. After hearing Roderika’s story and finding out he full extent of what was going on in Stormveil, she set out to kill Godrick.

She succeeded, gaining both a Great Rune and the attention of Margit and his Night’s Cavalry. So now it’s do or die.

Lost her right eye to Ranni’s projection of Rennala. To Ranni’s eternal credit, she waited a whole twenty-four hours before she started making “twins” jokes.

Backstory: A second-generation Tarnished who served under Radagon as a dragon slayer in the Second Liurnian War. She has vague memories of one of her parents being a Drake Knight, and is pretty sure they hail from the Badlands, but everything prior to her first death is pretty fuzzy.

Her first death involved a Carian dragon knight and a lot of glintstone fire. Her teens and the bulk of her twenties were spent in the meatgrinder that was the Second Liurnian War, during which she took the dragon communion. Like many of her comrades, she was incensed when Radagon ended the war by marrying the Witch Queen that they had all been assured was wicked to the core and an existential threat to the Golden Order.

Being banished a few years later, by her former commander no less, was simply salt in the wound. By the time of Godfrey’s banishment, she was already thoroughly disillusioned with the Golden Order. As she left the Lands Between alongside her fellow Tarnished, she swore to never again be a pawn of the demigods.

Relationships: Hit it off well with Blaidd, then almost rage-quit when she fought her way to Caria Manor and found out who her friend actually worked for. In her defense, she spent her formative years immersed in anti-Carian propaganda. Eventually swallowed her pride and agreed to work for Ranni, because it was that or back the Volcano Manor. She’s since warmed up to Ranni, but she doesn’t quite trust her. She’s not catching feelings, definitely not.

Millicent is without exception the best person she has ever met. She will fight you on this. Gowry’s dog is the bane of her existence.

Spends a lot of time in the Bestial Sanctum with Gurranq. Neither of them are particularly talkative, but he seems to appreciate the company. Idril has repented of her past as a dragon slayer, and often stays in the barrow to watch the dragonlings from a respectful distance.

Would’ve adopted Roderika if Hewg hadn’t beat her to it. Basically did adopt Rya and Boc.

Gideon is up to something. She’s not sure what, but she’ll puzzle it out eventually.

She likes Rogier okay, but she’s trying very hard not to learn anything about what he, Fia, and D used to get up to. It’s creepy, and she wants no part in it.

During her training with Sellen, she meant to say “yes ma’am” but somehow it came out “yes mum.” This has happened more than once. Sellen has never let her forget it.

She would get along great with Morgott if they ever stopped trying to kill each other. They’re both curmudgeons with an iron sense of duty.

Vyke was something of a personal idol to her, although she never had a chance to meet him prior to her banishment.

Had Melina’s number from day one. She knows a stone cold badass when she sees one, the mild-mannered maiden act isn’t fooling anyone.

Equipment: Wears a modified Mausoleum Knight’s set and a Redmane soldier’s helm. Mains a cold-infused (courtesy of Ranni) zweihander. Also carries a Carian Knight’s sword (from Moongrum, carried in memory of a worthy opponent), a kite shield (just in case), a demi-human queen’s staff (because she might need Carian Phalanx someday), and the Clawmark Seal (so she can use glintstone breath). Really though, the zweihander is where it’s at.

[fellomenking]

Kalila shuffled closer to where the Fell One stood. He seemed…saddened, more so than she remembered him being.

It was as if he’d heard a great truth he’d wished not to realize, but it had been nonetheless.

She was within earshot of the omen now and he hadn’t noticed.

Oi…enough of this…

“Pssst…” she called to him…

@tarnishedkalila

A voice, soft and faint, drew the Fell Omen from his prayer.

With a huff, Margit reached for his staff, and stood, towering tall, his tail swaying behind him.

[writingemporium]

Feeling conflicted about new writing, but I think it hits some of the character/identity conflict that I wanted to start touching on when I write Morgott. He's like 3 or 4 characters in one. It's a struggle. I'm not sure about keeping consistency but then maybe that's the point. Him compartmentalizing his various selves is important to me. SO even if it's rambly, conflicted, and makes no sense that's probably why lol. I'm still trying to get the parts figured out. The main link between them is his pride. Or maybe it's actually his ego larping as pride. Who knows? We shall see as I flesh out outlines and such.

TLDR: Morgott pitches tent.

What was in a beast? What was in a Monarch? What is in a Man? These thoughts flitted through Morgott's head as he stared at the Mimic Veil with an empty expression. He thumbed the tiara gently and sighed looking up into a mirror. What reflected back repulsed him. A large hulking mass of muscles with twisting gnarled horns sprouting from the side of his head. An aching back with useless appendages to mark what could have been wings, and a large knotted tail tail with large red horns sprouting from the end of it. The mirror could not reflect his entire figure. It was large full bodied mirror which could have belonged to any noble or person. It was designed for a such a normal one.

The chair's timbers groaned beneath him as he finally donned the Veil. He closed his eye in suspense and gave a moment for the magic to take hold before opening it once more. He looked up slowly, and once again he was the Veiled Monarch. He touched his face with his pale hand cautiously turning it this way and that to get a full look of the visage he hadn't seen in many an eon. Liver spots marked where the horns on his face should have been. His left eye glassy where it should have been covered with a hardened calcified patch. Finally he shrugged off his rags.

What beheld him was a man. The cold air met his bare skin and it immediately responded by prickling. His body hair was thicker then the average man that couldn't be helped, but over all it was a passable mirage. He ran a hand over his forearm watching the hair move and fall back into place. It was surreal. The white hair on his head fell forward and he pushed it back gently. He leaned back and looked into the mirror with a wavering conviction. He sighed and itched his beard. This is all folly. It was his immediate reaction.

Morgott the Grace Given. Morgott the Veiled Monarch. He snorted at the titles. Morgott the Omen. Margit the Fell. His moniker and attitude fitted whatever job or position that was needed of him. But things were different this time. He was in pursuit of someone and he wasn't sure whether he had the heart to know which of his aliases she would accept or reject. Or...was rejecting one part of him rejection of the whole? He rejected being an Omen so that meant surely that his rejection of self would be ok for her right? He had revealed himself to her as Morgott the Omen King and was rejected so maybe she could accept the Veiled Monarch. He stood up and straightened his back. He took pride in his position, for what it was worth, as a Monarch and son of Godfrey. He flinched at being a descendant of Marika and cursing the lineage with his omen status. But that is not of importance.

He rubbed his tired face, and finally had to address internally why he was even doing this. He grabbed a long length of fabric, and wrapped it around his nakedness. He took a deep breath and sighed. How am I to compete with one given Grace? She still had affections for someone other then him it was true, but surely it was still possible to woo her over to him. A flash of her soft skin crossed his mind. He grimaced. His hands had run down her waist to grab onto her hips as he...no that was Margit's memories not his. He moved to smooth the fabric out in slight distress. To be....aroused was not becoming of him. She had been so warm. His body betrayed him.

Defeated he sat back down onto the chair with a huff. He spread his legs to allow room for himself, and with shame saw the slight bulge under the wrap. The cool fabric brushed his tip and in a flustered frustration undid the fabric. It fell to either side of him noiselessly and he was forced to face himself once again. A man with wants and desires though these things were not meant for the likes of him. He took off the Veil and placed it on a nearby table donning his rags once again. There. A more fitting visage for one so shameful. Still in all he was being driven by desire. Was it so wrong to want?

[twistednuns]

January 2024

My New Year's Kiss. I wonder if this is the first time I didn't have to cheat and had a significant other volunteering for the job. I told C. about two resolutions I needed his help with. Focusing on positivity and gratitude (= to stop nagging and being overly critical) and to find a balance between distance and closeness.

A long walk through the woods. Climbing over trees and balancing with the kids. Cuddling with Mara. Getting the kids to play Activity despite their age. Connecting with Lian.

The little witch hat I poured in a New Year's ritual. A symbol for good luck and going your own way.

Charlie climbing up on my shoulder. My little witch cat. Love him.

A day at the Botanical gardens with Christian, his son and a few friends with their children. Marvelling at the tropical butterflies. Explaining interesting facts to the little ones. I felt like a walking lexicon. Beatriz took a liking to me and walked with me through the museum. She showed me the big crystals, the huge bug photographies and we played a nature quiz together.

The perfect burnt orange nail polish: Essie's row with the flow. Combining it with golden blots and black strokes.

Watching the new/last Hayao Miyazaki movie, The Boy and the Heron. Parts of it were so absolutely beautiful and touching that I kept starting to cry. I loved the scene with the Warawara spiraling up into the night sky. And the one with the landing of the tower, flames retreating back into the windows leaving only a faint glow. The iridescent colours on the stone walls. I kept discovering elements from older Ghibli movies - almost like little Easter eggs throughout the film.

Karaoke bingo, singing a duet and a little late night shopping session with Margit.

Wearing my new midnight blue velvet top. It features little golden star constellations and is so soft that I keep touching myself. I forgot how much I appreciate a good texture. Velvet is definitely one of them.

Eating a rainbow of juicy fruit for breakfast. With frozen raspberries under my vanilla porridge. And a spoonful of crunchy peanut butter.

A long chat with Becky, staring at her apple green Granny Smith sweater.

The shadows on the wall after sunset looked like a creepy snowflake made up of swords and twigs.

Angel numbers only on the bathroom scale.

Ordering exactly the piece of cake I wanted. The one with the chocolate star on top.

A very long French fry.

A dream: sitting on an unsteady stack of mattresses with my employers. Using a parachute to jump into a crumpled-up rainbow. / Preparing the van to drive up to the coast for a sailing trip with my dad.

Cinema and delicious Vietnamese dinner with Christian and Lena.

Frank checked in on me because he knew how much I dreaded going back to school and rewarded me with a cute gif of head scratches for a cat. I reacted with a vibrating phone emoji and he totally got it!

Entering productivity mode. Working on a few things that had been on my to do list forever. Tackling these is especially juicy. / My beginning of the year decluttering and organising mood. Planning ahead, streamlining my digital files and notes, throwing out physical deadweight.

Taping some of my meditative paintings on the wall. Realising how much I actually like them and how much I enjoy the creative process. I immediately sink into a state of flow as soon as I start painting. Why does it always take me so long to overcome this mental barrier?

My journal coming together beautifully. It's almost full - only a few empty pages are left. Making a collage to mark the beginning of 2024. I love writing by hand. It slows you down and structures your thinking.

Spotting a dark squirrel outside my kitchen window after talking with a pupil about winter rest and how rare it must be to see one waking up looking for the nuts they've hidden in autumn.

Tall white lilies in a green stained glass vase.

Sneaking grated carrot into my breakfast. Undetectable in carrot cake overnight oats.

A chunky apple green short sleeve sweater over a delicate black lace top. I love the contrast of the textures.

Expanding my accountability system. Christian offered to help me with my weight loss goal and my boss offered to keep asking for new ideas and insights on my career change. She wants me to get a move on. In a way, I feel quite supported. My new mommy and daddy? I know I know, I have to learn how to be my own parent, but it does feel nice to have people in your life who are looking out for you.

The sun hanging low in the sky, appearing huge through the misty winter clouds right before sunset.

It's fascinating to see how quickly the Universe throws you a ball when you've decided that you really want something. That you're ready. Since I talked to my boss about my career change I keep getting mails with interesting offers. An invitation to Guatemala to work at Fungi Academy. An old contact from PI reaching out with new international programs. Booking a free career coaching. Opportunities to study visual arts. I'm curious to see where this takes me.

The more you create, the more powerful you become. The more you consume, the more powerful others become. - James Clear

The first strawberry of the year. Yes, in January. Sue me. It was delicious. Strawberries bring me so much joy!

Tapping into a state of pure bliss during meditation. Smiling involuntarily. What a high!

The computer screen mysteriously turned on at 22:22 and demanded my attention. Huh.

I bought a car! Without thinking or knowing too much about it but I simply had a good feeling. It's tangerine-coloured and expands my range of movement a lot. I discovered that I can actually connect my phone via Bluetooth to listen to music (didn't expect that) AND the perfect volume adjustment is 22. Win.

Fabi's unexpected presents. And the spontaneous invitation to the exit room. It was lovely to see him, Frank and Marie again!

Finally giving Frank his birthday present. Finishing his letter with shared memories. He really liked it!

Realizing that I'm really scared of preparing a portfolio for Art University. Perhaps that's exactly why I should do it.

Booking plane tickets to Athens on a whim one Monday morning. I've never been to mainland Greece. And it's gonna be my first longer trip with Christian. Exciting.

A lovely Sunday with Lian and C. I delivered Fabi's boat and drove my new car in the sunshine. Beautiful, radiant winter landscapes. Connecting with C., playing, going on a little quest to find his keys, driving to the sledding hill, a gas station run to buy tobacco and get lottery tickets, cooking a delicious dinner and receiving rave reviews. A little chemistry experiment growing crystals with Lian. Getting high. Talking.

A productive coaching session with Valerie. And it was free because I won it in a raffle.

(Lemonade) Crunchy ice. (Kick it once, kick it twice / turn around, touch the ground / kick your boyfriend out of town and freeze)

Catching up with Nico over Indian food.

A cuddle movie night at Luna's. Snacks, sleepover, sharing sexy secrets with C. in the morning, playing computer games together.

Chocolate-covered dates. Comté cheese and strawberries on sourdough bread.

What an experience: attending my first KAP event. I'm still not sure what happened that afternoon.

Poor Things is such a fantastic movie. I loved everything about it. The ideas, outfits, scenery, Emma Stone's acting.

The latest Slutering Party was delicious. Very orgy-like, with lots of sensual connections and a lack of hard boundaries. Free flow and love.

The production of The Tempest / Das Dämmern der Welt was super interesting. I loved the live band and choir music. The video camera on stage, the drastic choices for the cast. Abstract but enticing.

I loved the first book I read this year: I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman.

Little luxuries. A toilet seat with an automatic/slow-closing lid. I've also started to shine my shoes. Both makes me feel very put-together and grown-up.

A super interesting collection of different niche aesthetics collected by Cari Institute.

A forced slow day. Couldn't really walk after hurting my leg jumping out of a tram's way. So I slept and read and finished my Harry Potter marathon. Didn't even completely turn it into a rot day because I put on lipstick, went to choir practice and even changed my bedsheets.

Kathrin touching my arm when she saw me come in, greeting me so warmly. It felt like she was happy to see me! Astrid inquiring about my limping. I genuinely thanked her for asking, taking an interest in me. Practicing Joyful, Joyful - such a beautiful song. "Fill us with the light." If I get the chance to sing a solo part I'll gladly accept. I'm feeling this song so much.

Stumbling upon the perfect Desigual jacket. It's made for me: MY colour. MY pattern. MY cut. And it was on sale.

A very weird morning. Super inspired. Ecstatic. Lots of insights, impulses, realizations. What's going here? Frantic journalling ensued. I understood that I might be able to... choose my reality?

Caffeine-infused creativity and musings about the word curation.

Rice pudding with fresh fruit.

My little project to use up all my stored groceries and eat the contents of my freezer.

Stocking up on countless bottles of watered down kombucha, blue juice and Volvic matcha drink. It feels like the height of luxury to have your fridge full of fancy beverages.

Strawberries and cream. End game.

The little candied, sesame-coated almond I was offered upon leaving Manouche, the Lebanese restaurant near my school. Delicious.

Comparing MRI sounds to minimal techno, sending C. Fantas by Caterina Barberi. I still want to see her live one day.

Sunrise at Filzhof. The long shadows cast by the fence. Cats basking in the morning sun. Little birdies visiting.

A ballsy move: finally getting a helix and septum piercing. Just woke up one morning and decided to do it.

Road tripping with C. Picking up my cello and an armchair from my brother's house. Talking to my former neighbour. Hardware store, home decor, thrift shopping. A piece of cake in Gstaudach. Making a delicious wok dish with lots of veggies and noodles for dinner. The cat in my car. Flight simulator with VR goggles. Sleeping on the new pillows.

And after F. cancelled on me, we spent Sunday together as well. We played some computer games, watched a movie. His son and ex-wife came over and brought pastries. I read him a few pages from A Little Life as a bedtime story.

Planning a treasure hunt for a birthday party.

Learning about C.'s taste in music.

Strong synchronicity game. 1111 on the clock, 222 on the bus.

C. booking me on his flight to Manchester. Talking about our roadtrip route. Learning about Atlas Obscura.

Buying everything I like. I escalated a little at IKEA. Assembling a trolley. It's a bit like a 3D puzzle! I'm in my home decor queen phase.

Koawach white chocolate drink. Incredibly sweet but so indulgent. To counterbalance the sweetness: rosehip tea.

Hazelnut cinnamon cookies. Pistachio ice-cream.

An indulgent guilty pleasure: devouring a whole ball of mozzarella straight out of the bag. Moist, stringy, delicious.

Using NARS Orgasm blush as eyeshadow.

Very attractive pictures of Mark Ruffalo in his Poor Things dancer's attire.

Tempeh. Brussels sprouts - not the frozen kind for once.

Feeling incredibly cool on my first work days after the sick leave. Space buns, my new Desigual jacket, the orange pair of hip sunglasses. Plum-coloured lipstick. Swirly golden hoop earrings.

A substitute lesson with cool students who could take a joke but still work on grammar exercises with me. Compliments for my English. I know, doesn't really count from 14-year-olds but it still felt nice.

Just walking over to Peter's place for an audio cable (and he even opened the door despite being ill). I love how much we've cultivated supporting each other in our choir!