#the vera saga

[moongirlwidow]

Pt 2/5

I don’t remember much other than kind of a blur until I was two, and I don’t know much either. I know that I trained as soon as I could walk, and that I was good.

I made my first kill when I was three. The target was meant for the older girls. I was watching and this girl had missed — twice. While they were beating her I took one of the knives off her table and ran up to him. I can remember people shouting at me, but I just stabbed the knife into his heart, pulled it out, and then cut his throat.

That’s when they decided I would be the best.

When I was seven or so they isolated me so I wouldn’t have any risk of defecting. Unfortunately for them, they also could never possibly dream of their perfect prodigy turning on them. So my mind control was more of a safety net than it was.

I trained with Antonia Dreykov, the Taskmaster, after that. She want the main replacement for the Winter Soldier. She was maybe four years older than me? We looked reasonably alike, so they certainly helped. We could be passed off as sisters, mother/daughter, niece/aunt, or a thousand other combinations. She took me under her wing. I called her Toni, she’s where the nickname Vera came from.

We had all these dreams… we would escape together and live in some little town in Ireland… maybe Scotland, we went back and forth sometimes. I’d go to school while Toni would get a job on a farm or a factory or something. I’d get to go out with my friends, and she’d always be waiting up with a cup of tea. We’d spend Sundays baking so we’d always have fresh baked goods, and Toni would take night classes to get a degree and we’d get a sofa that turned into a bed for our friends.

She’d talk me into going to a college in the city and every summer I’d come back with maybe some friends. She’d leave out snacks for when we arrived late and have a hot meal and the door unlocked. I think we both knew we’d never have the door unlocked, but we liked to imagine a normal life.

When I finished college I’d built a studio in our back yard and photograph weddings and graduations and families, and every year on Antonia’s birthday I’d take her picture and she’d take mine until we have a timeline on our wall. We could go hiking every fall until our lungs burned and then race eachother home for hot cider.

She was so full of sheer belief that we’d get free. At least she died free.

I miss her every single day.

@weedyrocksbaretotherain this is going to get really long really fast so I’m going to make it its own post(for anyone starting: they asked me to share with them and I agreed, so we’re starting from the beginning

I was born in a little town in Romania to a woman named Anetka and her husband David. Anetka was a Russian immigrant. They loved me. A lot. They never stopped searching.

When I was probably two months old, they hired a nanny to help, since both of them worked. That nanny was actually Melina Vostokov, the Iron Widow. She got to know my parents in that time.

When I was eight months old, she was ordered to steal me. She gave me my name that night, too. Vespera Anetka Volkov. Anetka for my mother, Volkov so I would be strong like the wolves. Vespera…. My mother spoke Latin, she was a religious historian. She called me her Twilight Princess… so she named me Vespera, Vesper for dusk. Melina said it was a tactical choice… but it was a sentimental one

She said that as soon as she had a god to pray to, she prayed for me.

Only one of them is living. David. Anetka… she killed herself when I was declared dead. I’ve seen her grave. Next to a small red granite one for the daughter who died. And really, she died when she was stolen. She died multiple times. At this rate I’m a Phoenix given how many times I’ve died.

[inlovewithfairies]

I'm trying to raise funds for an adventure*, anyone want to commision a fic?

I promise in the last 3 years my writing got way better.

* I do have a day job but bruh our economy is baaaaad these days

[minimooberry]

local woman greatly underestimates how hard labor is and kind of goes insane 😕

[uselessalexis165]

the invisible challenger but it’s just random screenshots that i took (1) 🚁

[purplegirltournament]

[queenofglassbeliever]

Rosalie was in love with Vera and nothing can convince me otherwise.

[sgiandubh]

Hola, hola! Pregunta de novata asombrada: De veras se casó con ese señor? Habláis de certificado de matrimonio que alguien se molestó en buscar? OMG...

Dear Novata Asombrada Anon,

En cuanto a todos mis anónimos hispanos, espero que no te importe que te contestaré en inglés, como muestra de cortesía hacia la gran mayoría de mis lectores. Gracias y aquí vamos con la traducción de tu pregunta. Y, para que no se me olvide, ¡bienvenida!

Hello, hello! Question from a shocked newbie: Did she really marry that man? Are you talking about a marriage certificate that someone bothered to look for? OMG…

Good morning and thank you for asking - you are not the only one today, it would seem. This question is making the rounds again (why?) and let's call this a (fortunate?) coincidence. The Marriage Certificate (MC) was the equivalent of the Great Christian Schism between Rome and Byzantium, in this fandom, mind you. Depending on your own take on the S&C Saga, it has been dreaded, expected, announced with great confidence and actively researched by fans, who simply took advantage of a very relaxed and transparent UK legislation, allowing for basically everyone to order a certified copy by email or snail mail, for a small fee.

The first fan aggressively trumpeting it online was (correct me if I am wrong) an ex-shipper who now goes by the handle of @brian-in-finance, also known as BIF, also known as Kidneystone. In her pedantic and arrogant little voice, she made a point of honor in dissecting absolutely every single detail of that dutifully certified piece of paper issued by the British General Register Office (GRO). A second, short-lived account, @hurleyburly, ordered the same paper and posted it on Tumblr, this time pudically hiding some details under a makeshift post-it. The usual fandom fortunetellers thought the handwriting on that 'post-it' was eerily similar to S's own, but we'll leave it at this. Although, I have to immediately add, I would not discount this possibility. A third prominent shipper account, @boyneriver-fraser, ordered it and made pathetic public amends over her previous shipping stance. Some others imitated them and received the exact same paper, followed by a seemingly endless trail of wrath, confusion and wailings.

People were understandably shocked, hurt and in definite anger over this. Many disembarked the ship, considering they had been either blind/idiot or cynically fooled by our Dynamic Duo, eager to sell the show. Speculation went rife. Some even tried to go the extra mile and believe they found out even more inconsistencies. I shall not speak on their behalf, simply because I was not here at the time and had no idea These Two will become such an (often invading) point of interest in my own life.

But irrespective of any inconsistencies, this paper legally exists. As such, it has legal effects that cannot and should not be discounted. I have always maintained it, as a professional. Likewise, I have consistently explained the Ibiza episode might be anything you could think of, from a romantic (?) picnic on a parking lot with a bird featuring a strange toupee (as per C's tweeted chirp), to a non legally binding handfasting ceremony (remember, LOL, 'some things are just for' Them). I have explained very early after my arrival why I do not think a Spanish marriage was in the cards. This is my final word about that #CarparkIbiza fanfic:

[Link: https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/723029524897529856/i-have-asked-a-few-very-popular-bloggers-this?source=share - July 16, 2023]

More clearly put, national Spanish legislation requires the two foreign citizens to be residents in Spain, if they want to get married there. British consulates do not perform marriage ceremonies, either. And cross-border marriage rules in Europe, at the time applicable to a not yet Brexited UK, would have mandatorily required a transcription of the marriage papers in Britain. This is not the USA, where you can just go to Vegas, have your knot tied by an Elvis lookalike and divorce the next (hungover) morning. Or go to Tijuana and do what Sophia Loren and Carlo Ponti did in 1957, to great (bigamous) scandal. Rules are different. Rules exist, as stupid and cold as they might look. And one more time - they have tangible consequences.

At this point in time, you might logically ask yourself why I am still here. Is it because of the feeling of power and self-importance, as some nasty Anons remind me every single day? Is it because of the formidable people I have met in here? Yes, it is also because of them, but not only because of them, of course. And as far as any feeling of power and self-importance go, let's just say it's ridiculous to think so.

The reason I am still here is both simple and complicated to understand: a paper, even certified, does not a marriage make. Mark me, Anon: there is nothing (I repeat: nothing) normal about this one. There are secrets and lies and inconsistencies and gaslighting galore. The shippers know it. The Antis/Mordor know it. The Fencers know it. And every single one of these broad factions apparently has ample supplies of popcorn. And, as far as we go, champagne bottles stashed, plus a firm decision to have a Global Lollapalooza on the Internet the day this awkward situation would come to an end.

I have tried to answer your very legitimate question the best I could. I do not believe in sugarcoating or hiding anything. What I do believe in, is the power of critical thinking and the ability to coldly analyze facts, even if they do not encourage fantasy. You would be surprised of the things that do not click, in that official Narrative. Important things, not speculation. My blog primarily deals in this kind of stuff: things that do not click and paint a very different story than the one officially being peddled around.

And now, dear Shocked Newbie Anon, you are free to disembark, if you think I am still lying to you (what for, may I ask? just to receive every single day violent garbage into my Inbox?). But if you choose to stay with us, the tea is always brewing, somewhere. And mind you, it's often the finest Oolong you could find, because I honestly believe that we have the most formidable and unexpected assortment of witty minds and strong characters, in here.

[arlequinelunaire]

Verthandi in the Middle Ch. 1.1

SV Next>

CW: The first couple of chapters involve a serial killer.

_ _ _

Because I’m the one who gets stuck with the serial killer, aren’t I?

…Okay, guess I should back up. Long story short, short-ish anyway, I go by Vera Norin, well down here I do. I’m one of the three owners, okay, one of the only three employees of the Wyrd Sisters Agency in Stockholm. Says a lot that my older sister Ruth told us we’d all have equal say, but then named the agency after herself. Er, after one of her alternate names.

Put simply, we control fate. No, we don’t just see your fate like a fortune teller, and unlike them we’re the real thing. Control it. Wanna go from rags to riches with us as your fairy godmothers, send someone you don’t like from riches to rags, or avoid your appointed death? Arranged all that and more thousands of times, and big sister Ruth even gets to control the past. Because of course she gets everything.

Er, guess I’m not being much of a saleswoman here, am I? Hey, I’m still the best of my sisters in that department, probably. Like Ruth would just tell you a bunch of flowery mythic-mystic bullshit before getting to anything important, while my little sister Svea would just prefix everything with ‘SUPER-’, ‘AWESOME-’, and ‘EPIC-’ and add a whole bunch of exclamation marks and a digi-cyber-guitar solo. Wait no, not epic, nobody says epic that way anymore, unless they start doing that again in the future when it’s retro. Huh, you’d think Svea of all people would know the actual meaning of the word ‘epic’, given we were there when the old sagas were being written. Then again, the past is Ruth’s domain- oh shit, I’m giving too much away, aren’t I?

Right, I take it you’re thinking if we’ve got power over fate itself, why are we letting mere humans have a say with this agency? Er, fellow mere humans, I mean. Simple, come the 21st century, someone as stuck in the past as Ruth has finally learned about democracy, and not just the barely-counts Ancient Greek kind. If we’re gonna hold this much power over people’s lives, the least we can do is actually give those people a say in things. That’s part of why I’m sharing this with all of you. Not that there aren’t conditions and restrictions of course, we’re still judge and jury, been doing this for millennia- ah, for years after all. Though I assure you, Ruth’s just as strict with us as she is with you, way more so. She’s had thousands of years to hammer into us “You can’t do that”, “Such is unbefitting of us”, “No using your power for your own gain” and on and on.

Okay, what’s this about me getting assigned a serial killer then? It started when a bunch of teens, you know the type, pimply, dour-faced, arms perpetually crossed, would’ve worn baseball caps backwards in past decades, lurched their way right into our office. “Wait, this is the place? Thought a ‘fate-writing’ place would be all dark and spooky, y’know all haunted castle. But this looks like where my parents work,” one of them whined.

“Fate-weaving, kid,” I muttered. Actually, we were still renting this basic white walled, brown carpeted office, and this kid reminding me of that got him on my nerves even more. Granted, freedom to decorate would give Ruth full reign to make everything all lacey and doily-draped and Svea to put spikes everywhere and drown it all in black paint. I shuddered at the thought. But speaking of her, “Svea, you know these guys?” I called out, since they were about high school age. Not that there’s only one high school in Stockholm, but eh, no harm in asking.

“Awesome, you guys saw my flyers!” Svea’s voice rang out all through the room. Which at least showed I was right, even if my ears throbbed. She ran up to them dressed in the exact opposite attire your standard office would demand. With her black hair uneven, leather coat clearly too big for her, knee-high combat boots ringed with spikes, it showed restraint that she didn’t enter the room to a guitar riff. Of course, I showed up to work in my usual anorak and jeans, and Ruth normally arrives in full Victorian garb, so we’re hardly any better. “Alright, so what can Verth and I do for you guys? Anything fate-related, that’s us!” Svea said with an ear-to-ear smile and both thumbs up.

“…Yeah, knew the loudmouth to be behind this. The handwriting on that ad was so bad, couldn’t be anyone but her,” one teen said, rolling his eyes. Huh, since when did stroppy teens care so much about handwriting? Oh yeah, as an excuse to bully Svea they do, though it looked like that remark only got a twitch out of her, on the surface anyway.

“So, if you people really can control fate,” another of the teens began as a smirk crept across his face, with me facepalming at what he said next, “Prove it by making the hottest girl in class fall desperately in love with me.”

“Not happening,” I wasted zero time in telling him. There was no way I’d risk Ruth coming into the room and hearing that one of her biggest rules was in danger of breaking. “We can weave what a person does or what happens to them into their fate, but not how they feel about it. Emotions are a person’s own domain.” It’s a testament to how much Ruth drilled those words into us that I could repeat them on the spot.

“Pfft, sounds to me like you can’t ‘weave fates’ after all,” that teen had to say, his smirk somehow even wider. “Or that hearing about hot girls reminds you how plain and drab you are, anorak,” he snickered like he thought I couldn’t hear, I then winced as Svea snickered with him. The little shit was so lucky that I was in a professional service environment right now and so couldn’t just deck him. Though any more talk like that, and he may find fate has decreed for him quite a few fists to the face. Or worse, decreed for him a life in retail.

“Hey, we can still do a whole bunch of stuff. Like with my domain, I get to decide who lives and who dies-” Svea began, before I put my hand right over her mouth.

“Oh no, you’re not putting that power in these losers’ hands,” I hissed in her ear. And on top of… the obvious, did she have to use the term ‘domain’? I then turned to the brats and told them, “How about sticking to your own fates, okay?”

But then one of them, an even more morbid type who’d been slinking in the shadows so far, had to ask, “What if you fated someone who really deserved it to die? Like a serial killer.”

Now that had me thinking. Obviously there’s been debate after debate on if killing someone can ever be justified, even the oh so brutal Viking Age still had Althing meetings over this sort of thing. On the other hand, like I’d shed the slightest tear over the death of a serial killer. On the other other hand, I was in no mood to become a bunch of snotty teens’ own assassin for hire, let alone foist that on Svea.

So I wussed out and went the rehabilitation route, how Scandinavian-justice-system of me. “How about we just fate it so that they never succeed in killing anyone again?” I offered. Naturally, I said that before knowing who and how bad this serial killer even was. Of course, Svea promptly frowned right at me.

“Fine. Just as long as, y’know, you actually do something involving fate already,” the first teen said. “Oh right, and that you don’t charge too much, we’ve been here long enough.”

Long enough? Since when’s a few minutes ‘long enough’? Not that I can’t sympathise with being strapped for cash, as Ruth won’t let us fate-weave ourselves rich since we ‘can’t use fate-weaving for own advantage’. But at the same time, who the Hel’s this kid to tell us how to run our business? Still, a compromise came to mind as I smirked back at him, “Our price is the satisfaction we get when you all concede that we really do control fate. How’s that?”

“Deal,” the teens said in unison, their faces still sour. Hey, I’d be happy to get this whole thing over with too. The one in the shadows then kept scrolling on their phone until they went, “Yeah, this guy looks like the right candidate.”

“Wait, you mean you didn’t have an actual killer in mind till just now?” I asked them, mouth agape. Just when I thought these teens couldn’t annoy me more. And they flat out ignored what I just said and held the phone up to my face. “Anastasios, surname unknown, the ‘Scarecrow’ killer,” I read. So named for his scrawny, nigh skeletal looks and the way he ties up his victims. Main stalking ground is… all the way down in Athens? These kids were absolutely sure they didn’t pick this guy at random? Then again, a serial killer’s a serial killer, and I like to think I’m more principled about death than Svea. “You got it, this guy’s killing days are done for. Check the news for any more reports on him if you don’t believe us,” I said with a smirk of my own. “Oh, and when that happens, make sure you tell all your friends just how wrong you were about us. Now scram.” Not the best thing to tell your customers, but Ruth wasn’t around, so as if I cared at this point.

“You mean you’re not gonna let us see your actual fate-writing, weaving, whatever process?” one of them had to blurt out.

This again. “Look, a nuclear plant isn’t gonna let you hang around radiation, we’re not gonna let clients hang around the destiny threads. They’re the whole of a person’s time on this Earth, maximum caution required. Now scram,” I said as I shoved them one by one out the door. Hel, ‘scram’ was me holding back, my first instinct was to tell them ‘Fuck off’. Then again, scram is what you say to kids, too Sesame Street reminiscent, while fuck off is what you say to adults, and I didn’t fancy treating them like that.

Then the second I’d dusted my hands of them, I turned around to see Ruth as prim and proper as a 19th century nanny staring right back me into my soul. Oh come on, I didn’t even hear her come in. Well, that’s typical for her, why announce your presence when you could make your sisters fear you’re always watching? “Vera,” she said looking down at me, like that word was all she needed to say.

“Hey, it’s just us three now, you do know you can use my real name?” I said first, then actually replied to what she’d implied with, “And I’m doing my job. I kept putting up with those kids till we reached an agreement, and now we’re gonna change fate per their request. What more do you want?”

“For you to start treating our customers with respect, to begin with. It would not do for our business to be saddled with a bad reputation,” Ruth said as she loomed closer over me. She then placed a hand on Svea’s shoulder as she kept chewing me out, “And in addition, you insulted the very customers your little sister invited. Think about how she must feel, after she put in all the hard work of advertising.”

I was about to point out to Ruth that, had she not shown up at the last minute, she would’ve heard these kids insulting Svea too. But as the future’s not my domain, I’d failed to foresee that Svea would betray me. “Oh yes, Verth was really mean, and to me too. She kept telling me no when I had any idea about how to give our clients what they wanted,” Svea said as she ‘cried’ at Ruth.

“Because Svea wanted to let teenagers order a guy’s death,” I hissed. Don’t know why I did, because if Ruth didn’t ignore me, she probably would’ve manufactured some excuse to defend Svea. Anything for the ‘baby’ of the family. So I then said, “Hey, we’re the only fate-weaving business on Midgard, in all the Realms even,” …as far as I knew, “We’re the last people who need to be worried about customers leaving for the competition.”

Ruth sighed down at me. “We know that, but they do not. To those more superstitious, any charlatan with cards and a crystal ball could be just as valid as we. To those more skeptical, we could be yet more quacks. We cannot afford to drive away clients, Vera. And even if we could, such behaviour would still be utterly unprofessional,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she softened her voice and used my real name, “Verthandi, as the past is not your domain, I don’t know how well you remember this. But in the Eddas, in all the Sagas too, any time our names were said, it was in fear or hatred, and that was when they chose to acknowledge us at all. The last thing I want is for that same fear and hatred to follow us into the 21st century. And that is why manners matter,” she huffed as her voice shot back up to its normal volume.

“…I know,” is all I said to her about our, well, past infamy. I seethed at her thinking all those things said about us didn’t still hurt me. I mean I get it, if you hear someone else controls your fate, it makes sense you’d be resentful of them. But I never asked to be shat on just for doing my job.

Though now she mentions it, if restoring our rep’s so important, doesn’t us using aliases defeat the whole point? Especially when they’re so paper-thin anyway, though I was at least grateful not to get stuck with the proposed ‘Bertha’.

Oh, and since Ruth had just ‘wrecked’ me, Svea of course had to stick her tongue out and pull down an eyelid at me. Yeah, that’s ‘manners’. And how is Svea going ‘killing is totally awesome’ not as harmful to our reputation as me saying a swear word to some kids? “Let’s just weave this fate already,” I settled on.

Guess it’s no use still trying to hide who we are, huh? Even Ruth’s gone and used my real name. Right, I’m Verthandi, Norn of Present Time. And if you’ve so much as squinted at a Norse mythology book, I take it you’ve figured out Ruth’s Urth of the Past and Svea’s Skuld of the Future. Told you our aliases were flimsy. We’re the Nornir and we’re, er, hard to describe, and that’s coming from one of them. We’re not goddesses, let’s make that clear, even if we do have to hang out with them. Urth tells us we’re Jotnar, which gets translated as ‘giants’ despite her only being six foot four, Skuld being a shrimp, and me being average as always. Yeah, you can argue the exact difference between Jotnar and Gods is pretty flimsy, but trust me, you really don’t want to compare the two to their faces.

Of course, my domain being the Present and not the Past means my memory’s kinda hazy, so I only have Urth’s word for it that I even am a Jotun. Hel, I don’t even know my own parents, think I heard Dad’s someone called Mogthrasir? He’s a real deadbeat, whoever he is. But I guess Urth’s telling the truth, like what would she have to gain from saying we’re Jotnar specifically?

Anyway, the fate-weaving. The three of us walked over to a corridor as bland and unfurnished as the foyer, till we came to a door no mortals could see. Or at least, they better not see, if all the runes we scribbled on it are working right. Our local fate-weaving room… how to even describe it? Have you heard of a tesseract, you know, a four-dimensional cube? Picture a whole cavern of four-dimensional spiderwebs, where each dewdrop reflects a moment from someone’s life, from big things like birth, graduation, and death, to the smaller stuff like that one time traffic was real bad, or it rained when the forecast said it’d be sunny. These webs of fate are also this room’s sole light source, with a person’s past shining white, their future shrouded in hazy black, and their present a smushed pallet. Or so it looks like to me anyway, if my sisters see their domains differently they’ve told me squat. Though I think Skuld wouldn’t want her domain to be any other colour than black, like her soul~.

While we didn’t have any super strong leads, knowing some basic information on this killer did help in tracking down his specific thread of fate. As Skuld and I approached the threads, our hands as usual morphed themselves into instruments akin to a spider’s pincers. Yet another reason we don’t humans watch us fate-weave, they’d be sent screaming seeing us turn semi-arachnid. Still, it’d help a lot if I could actually use an opposable thumb for all the tricky, obnoxiously precise bits.

I got to plucking out all the murders the Scarecrow killer ever would’ve committed from this point; I suppose I should’ve felt disturbed seeing them but well, I’m thousands of years old. I may not have the best memory, but the seriously bleak things from the past are all too good at sticking in the mind. Meanwhile, Skuld got the even more laborious job of lengthening all the threads of his future victims, now their fated deaths had changed. And all the while, Urth just… stood in the corner. Watching us do all the work.

“We are tampering with the web of fate enough,” Urth told me as soon as I glared at her, “Were I to get involved and rewrite the fates of his past victims, we don’t know how drastically we would complicate the web.” Which yeah, was exactly the response I expected. Again, alive for thousands upon thousands of years, I can’t fathom how many times she’s told me that. Although, makes sense we couldn’t show those kids we’re the real thing if the killer never even got to kill in the first place. “Not to mention-”

“The gods of the dead don’t like us taking those who’ve already died back from them, I know,” I said. Though it wasn’t like those three could afford to lose a soul or two, especially Odin. I then dusted my hands and said, “Anyway, we’ve got all these fates sorted. Let’s hope our next client asks us for something more pleasant.” And has more money to throw around.

“Oh no, we are not done yet,” Urth said as she looked right at me again. “You’re to watch over this Scarecrow to see how he reacts to having his capacity to kill taken away.”

“What? Why?” I asked, as I instantly assumed she was having me do this out of spite. “We know he’s not gonna kill any more, so what’s the point?”

“Yeah, and how come Verth gets to meet a serial killer and not me?” Skuld had to ask.

“Because Verthandi, you should know by now that the consequences for reweaving fate are nothing you should ignore. And seeing the reweaved in person is to remind you that these are fates of people we deal with, not dolls,” Urth told me, then turned to Skuld and said, “Skuld dear, I will absolutely not let you meet a serial killer. It simply isn’t healthy for you.”

“Why isn’t it?” I actually found myself coming to Skuld’s defence for once. “We can’t weave ourselves into his or anyone’s fate, but even then he still can’t kill her. Can’t kill the future after all. Not to mention some gods she’s met are way worse than serial killers,” I felt the need to keep my voice low for that line.

“Yeah, so lemme meet the killer. Why does Verth get all the fun?” Skuld kept whining.

“Verthandi, this is your little sister you are talking about!” Urth snapped at me. She then steadied herself with a deep breath and said, “Besides, while he may not be able to kill her, there are still plenty of awful things, physical and mental, he could still try on her.” Then she turned around and went, “Skuld, why don’t you and I go out for ice-cream instead? Maybe we can bring your hoverboard to the park?”

Oh, so suddenly those ‘awful things’ are okay when I’m the one in the crosshairs, are they? Yeah, Skuld’s stuck in permanent adolescence, but she’s still been in existence since, like, forever. Though I could immediately imagine Urth replying to that with ‘as have you’.

But if I said all that, it turned out Skuld wouldn’t have my back anyway, as she instantly said, “Ooh, ice cream!”

By the way, if you wonder why we make Skuld go to school even though she’s an immortal, well, one part that permanent adolescence, her being future potential embodied, but also Urth’s whole ‘gotta know the people’ thing. Everything I’d heard about school just made me glad Skuld got stuck with the Future and not me.

With me left with nothing but to groan, I followed Urth out into the scrubby patch that passed for our backyard. There, she picked up a rune-adorned old clay jug of water and held it aloft in the air. Everything shook as a massive, twisting root came down from out of the sky to drink from it. That’s our other job, attending the World Tree Yggdrasill. Well, ‘Yggdrasill’ is just what it’s called now, after Odin hanged himself from it. Its real name is… huh, I don’t think I even know. Maybe Urth does, but if she did she’d probably find some excuse not to tell me.

Anyway, even a root this size was still a minor root for Yggdrasill, nowhere near the three big ones, but it’d do for my assignment. “Ah, the Norns, what can I do for you today?” the tree’s personal squirrel chirped as he scurried his way down the branch, his alien green eyes letting you know this wasn’t your standard red squirrel. Well, that and the little reporter's hat and jacket he was wearing. And the voice thing.

“Nornir,” Urth had to correct, as if the fuzzball at all cared.

“I just need a lift to Athens, Ratatosk. That’s all,” I told him quick. I was about to tell him not to dump me on the outskirts, but knowing my luck that would probably be where the killer’s hiding.

“Why, you three already bombing in Stockholm?” he had to say. Him being the only one amused, and then having to dodge a can thrown by Skuld, he followed with, “Okay okay, your ride to Athens is ready. All aboard.”

I then took hold of the end of the root, and with that was pulled through creation all the way from Europe’s north to its south. Nothing I hadn’t done a bunch before, but I could only imagine how terrifying the experience would be for a regular human, especially for their arm.

And now you know all about how I got assigned to babysit a former serial killer. Here’s hoping he won’t be too much of a headache to deal with in person, I could use less of those in my life.

[moongirlwidow]

I just wanted to tell you that I've seen you around the tower before and you intimidate me but I think you're really hot.

We're also not from the same universe btw.

Hmm? And who would this anon be? Or’ve I got a secret admirer? *wink*

[ninja-muse]

2025 Release TBR

🏳️‍🌈 - queer MC     🇨🇦 - Canadian author    ⭐️ - BIPOC MC 📘 - have an ARC bold - new added

The Songbird - Stacy Lynn Miller (historical fiction) - January 7

Adrift in Currents Clean and Clear - Seanan McGuire (fantasy) - January 7

Rebellious Grace - Jeri Westerson (historical mystery) 🏳️‍🌈 - January 7

The Betrayal of Thomas True - A.J. West (historical mystery) 🏳️‍🌈 - January 14

An African History of Africa - Zeinab Badawi (history) ⭐️ - January 14

Haunting and Homicide - Ava Burke (cozy mystery/urban fantasy) - January 21

Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales - Heather Fawcett (fantasy) 🇨🇦 - February 11

Upon a Starlit Tide - Kell Woods (fantasy) - February 18

Wooing the Witch Queen - Stephanie Burgis (romantasy) - February 18

Greenteeth - Molly O’Neill (fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - February 25

The Amber Owl - Juliet Marillier (fantasy) - February 25

Once Was Willem - M.R. Carey (historical fantasy) - March 4

The Boxcar Librarian - Brianna Labuskes (historical fiction) - March 4

May Contain Murder - Orlando Murrin (cozy mystery) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 11

The Tomb of Dragons - Katherine Addison (fantasy/mystery) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 11

Installment Immortality - Seanan McGuire (urban fantasy) - March 11

The Duke at Hazard - KJ Charles (historical romance) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 11

Malinalli - Veronica Chapa (historical fiction) ⭐️ 📘- March 11

Alterations - Kate Maruyama (historical fiction) ⭐️ - March 11

What Wakes the Bells - Elle Tesch (YA fantasy) 🇨🇦 - March 11

A Gentleman's Gentleman - TJ Alexander (historical romance) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 11

Love and Other Paradoxes - Catriona Silvey (time travel/romance) 📘- March 11 NDF

The Hymn to Dionysus - Natasha Pulley (fantasy/retelling) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 18

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter - Stephan Graham Jones (horror)⭐️ - March 18

Aunt Tigress - Emily Yu-Xuan Qin (contemporary fantasy) 🇨🇦🏳️‍🌈 - March 25

Murder by Memory - Olivia Waite (cozy science fiction/mystery) 🏳️‍🌈 - March 18

The Chow Maniac - Vivien Chien (cozy mystery) ⭐️ - April 1

Direct Descendant - Tanya Huff (cozy fantasy/horror) 🇨🇦 🏳️‍🌈 - April 1

Vera Wong’s Guide to Snooping (on a Dead Man) - Jesse Q. Sutanto (cozy mystery) ⭐️ - April 1

The Ashfire King - Chelsea Abdullah (fantasy) ⭐️ - April 15

Saga, Vol. 12 - Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples (graphic science fiction) 🇨🇦 - April 15

Great Big Beautiful Life - Emily Henry (contemporary romance) - April 22

The Lilac People - Milo Todd (historical fiction) 🏳️‍🌈 - April 29

Overgrowth - Mira Grant (science fiction/horror) - May 6

Austen at Sea - Natalie Jenner (historical fiction) 🇨🇦 - May 6

The Country Under Heaven - Frederic S. Durbin (weird western) - May 13

Strange New World - Vivian Shaw (urban fantasy) - May 20

Baking Across America - B. Dylan Hollis (cookbook) 🏳️‍🌈 - May 20

Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Except Me) - Django Wexler (fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - May 27

The Grimoire Grammar School Parent Teacher Association - Caitlin Rozakis (comic fantasy) - May 27

Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil - V.E. Schwab (horror/fantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - June 10

Amelia if Only - Becky Albertalli (YA contemporary romance) 🏳️‍🌈 - June 10

The Mercy Makers - Tessa Gratton (fantasy) - June 17

A Far Better Thing - H.G. Parry (historical fantasy) - June 17

The Rushworth Family Plot - Claudia Gray (historical mystery) - June 17

Stone and Sky - Ben Aaronovitch (urban fantasy) ⭐️ - July 8

The Frozen People - Elly Griffiths (science fiction/mystery) - July 8

Algospeak - Adam Aleksic (linguistics) - July 15

Mayhem at a Halloween Wedding - Emmeline Duncan (cozy mystery) - July 29

Automatic Noodle - Annalee Newitz (cozy science fiction) - August 5

The Magician of Tiger Castle - Louis Sachar (fantasy) - August 5

Hemlock and Silver - T. Kingfisher (fantasy) - August 19

Katabasis - R.F. Kuang (dark academia/fantasy) - August 26

Boudicca’s Daughter - Elodie Harper (historical fiction) - August 28

Hot Wax - M.L. Rio (fiction) - September 9

The Haunting of William Thorn - Ben Alderton (gothic horror) 🏳️‍🌈 - September 9

A Tangle in Time - Josiah Bancroft (steampunk/mystery) - September 9

Lady Like - Mackenzi Lee (historical romance) 🏳️‍🌈- September 9

The Summer War - Naomi Novik (fantasy) - September 16

Audition for the Fox - Martin Cahill (fantasy) - September 16

Replaceable You - Mary Roach (science) - September 16

Ladies in Hating - Alexandra Vasti (historical romance) 🏳️‍🌈 - September 25

The Gnomes of Lychford - Paul Cornell (contemporary fantasy) - September 25

What Stalks the Deep - T. Kingfisher (horror) 🏳️‍🌈 - September 30

Silver and Lead - Seanan McGuire (urban fantasy) - September 30

Cinder House - Freya Marske (horror/retelling) 🏳️‍🌈 - October 7

The Bakery Dragon and the Fairy Cake - Devin Elle Kurtz (cozy fantasy/picture book) - October 7

He’s So Possessed With Me - Corey Liu (YA horror) 🏳️‍🌈 🇨🇦 - October 14

The Isle in the Silver Sea - Tasha Suri (romantasy) 🏳️‍🌈 - October 21

The Everlasting - Alix E. Harrow (fantasy) - October 25

The Keeper of Magical Things - Julie Leong (cozy fantasy) ⭐️ - November 4

Brigands and Breadknives - Travis Baldree (cozy fantasy) - November 11

Audrey Lane Stirs the Pot - Alexis Hall (contemporary romance) 🏳️‍🌈 - December 9

[when-life-gives-you-lemons-if]

Wait so does that mean all your games are connected? If I make the same exact MC in each game and they all meet each other then-

All your MCs meeting up would be hilarious.

Not all of the games are connected, but some of them happen in the same timeline. I just like to include some easter eggs like that for OG readers.

Some of them that I can think of:

If you choose the private investor route for Barlow in Lemon, you get to meet the lawyer and the bodyguard from Insert Rich Family.

If you choose the social media investor route for Barlow in Lemon, you get a mention of Tara/Tariq The Wedding as influencers.

Cassidy from The Wedding is Officer Costa's cousin from Lemon.

In Insert Rich Family Name book 1, if your TV host romance is Vera, it is mentioned that she was an actress in the movie The Burning Sun.

In Midnight Saga book 1, Lanie/Lani recommends The Burning Sun to the MC.

I think there are more, but I'm forgetting some.

[angelap3]

Ahahahahahaha🤣🤣🤣🤣...io non so se questa storia sia vera ma mi ha strappato una risata interminabile!

Questa moglie era "un genio del male"😅/

Goditi! 😂

Dopo 37 anni di matrimonio, Jake lasciò sua moglie per la sua giovane segretaria. La sua nuova fidanzata insistette che vivessero nella casa multimilionaria di Jake e Edith, e dato che gli avvocati di Jake erano leggermente migliori, ebbe la meglio. Diede a Edith, ora sua ex moglie, solo 3 giorni per traslocare.

Il primo giorno lo passò a impacchettare le sue cose in scatole, casse e valigie.

Il secondo giorno arrivarono i traslocatori a ritirare tutto.

Il terzo giorno si sedette per l'ultima volta al loro bellissimo tavolo da pranzo, alla luce delle candele, con della musica soft in sottofondo e si concesse una festa a base di un chilo di gamberetti, un barattolo di caviale e una bottiglia di Chardonnay.

Quando ebbe finito, andò in ogni stanza e infilò gusci di gamberetti mezzi mangiati, intinti nel caviale, nelle cavità di tutte le aste delle tende. Poi pulì la cucina e se ne andò.

Quando il marito tornò con la sua nuova fidanzata, tutto sembrava perfetto per i primi giorni. Poi, lentamente, la casa iniziò a puzzare. Provarono di tutto: pulire, lavare e arieggiare la casa. Controllarono le prese d'aria per vedere se c'erano roditori morti e pulirono i tappeti. Appesero profumatori ovunque. Chiamarono disinfestatori che misero in atto delle bombole di gas, durante le quali dovettero trasferirsi per qualche giorno, e alla fine sostituirono persino i costosi tappeti di lana. NIENTE FUNZIONAVA.

La gente smise di andare a trovarli. I riparatori rifiutavano di lavorare nella casa. La domestica si licenziò. Finalmente non poterono più sopportare la puzza e decisero di trasferirsi.

Un mese dopo, anche se avevano dimezzato il prezzo della casa, non riuscivano a trovare un acquirente per la loro casa puzzolente. La voce si sparse e alla fine persino i realtor locali rifiutarono di rispondere alle loro chiamate. Alla fine dovettero prendere un grande prestito dalla banca per acquistare una nuova casa.

L'ex moglie chiamò l'uomo e chiese come andavano le cose. Lui le raccontò la saga della casa in decomposizione. Lei ascoltò educatamente e disse che sentiva terribilmente la mancanza della sua vecchia casa e che sarebbe stata disposta a ridurre la sua liquidazione del divorzio in cambio della casa. Sapendo che la sua ex moglie non aveva idea di quanto fosse cattivo l'odore, accettò un prezzo che era circa 1/10 di quanto valesse la casa, ma solo se lei avesse firmato i documenti lo stesso giorno. Lei accettò e nel giro di un'ora gli avvocati consegnarono i documenti.

Una settimana dopo, l'uomo e la sua fidanzata stavano sorridendo mentre guardavano la ditta di traslochi imballare tutto per portarlo nella loro nuova casa.

COMPRESI GLI ASTE DELLE TENDE.🙂

[lukaherehelp]

I have 16 out of the 18 books displayed in front of me. That's how much I love this books and how sad I am about the fact that the last two, The Battle of Time and The Great Summer, never got transtaled to spanish so I'm sitting here, in front of this absolute masterpiece of a saga, fully knowing that I'll never get to complete it.

I think I need to go back to the public library and just pick a book just because it is interesting and let it blow my mind. I need that being-10-yo-and-reading-the-Ulysses-Moore books for the first time feeling back in my life.

(Please read Ulysses Moore!!)

[strnilolover]

Hear me out, that man’s voice from candy crush saga likeee…

VERA. there’s no wayyyyy

it reminds me too much of that machine from cloudy with a chance of meatballs “cheeseburger”

i’m not icking on your yum btw like, i’ll listen to hear me outs even if i don’t agree

[morsesnotes]

I'm so charmed by this random little saga.

"It feels a little strange to hear Patti Smith, poet laureate of punk rock, expounding on her love of the Sunday evening Inspector Morse spinoff Endeavour between songs, but here we are. Confined to her hotel room on Friday night by a heavy Brighton sea mist, she says – “I couldn’t see shit” – her evening was enlivened by watching an episode of the period detective drama on ITV3. Over on her Instagram page, she’s even been ruminating on the philosophical qualities of the show’s dialogue." (The Guardian, 2018) "I recently saw the first episode of the new season of 'Endeavour' and got to meet Shaun Evans. It's killing me waiting for the other episodes. I'm surviving by watching 'George Gently' and 'Vera', with Brenda Blethyn. Oh, it's fantastic." - Patti Smith (2019)