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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 9 months

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Note: This fic was a request; thank you so much, I hope you'll like it!

Warnings: fluff/suggestive/brief smut.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You just moved to Coccham and were taken aback by your new, friendly neighbour, and you were also blind to his advances.

wordcount: 3,4k

Masterlist

'Does your bed need some fixing?'

You felt prying eyes on you as you carried your belongings inside your new hut, one by one, after having moved to Coccham earlier that day. You glanced over your shoulder and found a pair of eyes staring at you, from the hut that was located across your own, just before the spy hid behind the curtains in the window. You frowned and shook your head lightly as you turned your face back to your own home. And your new neighbour kept up the strange game of staring and hiding for hours, while you slowly made a new home for yourself.

The only thing left to do, to finally call your new place your home, was closing the door behind you which, unfortunately, fell out as soon as you shoved it shut, and landed with a hard blow on the sandy ground, causing clouds of dust to fly up. You stared at the broken door with big eyes. You had just moved, you had no more coins to get this fixed, and you didn't know what to do, so you just froze. Then the neighbour, who had been peeking at you all day already, suddenly appeared as he opened his door, and walked over to you. You stared at the man, clearly a Dane, who had his head half shaved, some tattoos, and a smile that took your breath away. All while wearing a dark, leather tunic, which showed off his muscles, and you were stunned.

'Need some help fixing that?' he asked.

You looked down at your door, then back at him again, and you smiled awkwardly.

'I do but, I can't pay you,' you said quickly.

'No need, lady,' the Dane chuckled, and already moved to lift the heavy wooden door back into its hinges. You watched him with wide eyes, as he made it seem so effortless, while it took great strength to move that chunk of wood and steel.

'T-thank you,' you smiled shyly as he wiped his sandy hands on his tunic.

'Not a problem, lady,' he gave you a sweet smile, 'I'm Sihtric, uh… your neighbour.'

'Yeah,' you grinned, 'I've seen you spying,' you said, and saw Sihtric blush as you introduced yourself, and thanked him again for fixing your door.

'If you need anything else, I'm… you know,' Sihtric fought with his words, 'right… uh, right over there,' he pointed to his hut.

'I think I will be able to find you,' you chuckled, and before you could say anything else, Sihtric was called away by an Irish man. He apologised for having to leave so abruptly, and you watched the friendly Dane walk off, who glanced back over his shoulder and gave you a smile.

And you were surprised by how friendly the stranger had been.

One thing you always struggled with was fetching water. The buckets were simply too big, too heavy and you were too clumsy. And in your new town it wasn't any different. Your friendly neighbour, Sihtric, was once again spying on you and noticed your struggle, and he was quick to give you a hand.

'Lady,' he said softly with a smile, taking the bucket from you without asking, and carrying it inside your hut. 'Do you need more water?' he asked, 'or anything else?'

'Actually one more bucket would be nice,' you said quietly.

Before you could say another word, Sihtric was on his way. And it once again struck you as odd yet pleasant how kind he was to you. You never had such a helpful neighbour before, and you felt blessed. You figured the people in Coccham were just very friendly and looked after each other.

'My lady,' Sihtric said after he had fetched you another bucket with water, and he stared at you.

You looked at him and felt awkward, not sure why he was staring at you. Was he expecting you to pay him? Because you told him yesterday already that you have nothing left to give, so why would he think it's any different today? You plucked at your skirt and chuckled nervously.

'Eh, d-did you want…something?' you asked, almost inaudible.

'Oh,' Sihtric said, flustered, 'n-no, lady. I was just, uh,' he cleared his throat, 'if you… n-need anything else, I'm… you know, I'm…'

'You're right… over there,' you smiled.

'Yeah,' Sihtric smiled shyly, 'just… over there,' he cocked his head slightly to his hut, across from you, 'for anything, you know?'

'Anything,' you nodded.

'Anything,' the Dane said again, then rubbed his toned bicep with his tattooed fingers and shuffled out of your hut, 'have a good day, lady.'

'You're welcome,' you said while being flustered, and Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle at your strange response.

You carefully closed the door behind him and couldn't help feeling pleasant tingles in your stomach, as well as a smile on your face which lasted all day. You quickly realised you couldn't get Sihtric out of your head anymore. Besides being friendly, he was also the most handsome man you had ever met. But he was just being nice, clearly he had no interest in you. He was merely helping you out, as a good neighbour should.

The next few weeks Sihtric helped you out with little things, whenever he noticed you could use a hand. He helped fold your laundry, always fetched you water when he saw you make your way out with the buckets, and he checked your front door a few times after you had mentioned your concerns. And so you started to get to know him. You learned he was a warrior and was loyal to Lord Uhtred, who had saved his life. He told you a little about his past and you were stunned that a man who had suffered so much, had such a kind heart. You enjoyed his presence and hoped Sihtric felt the same, but you couldn't pick up on a clue even if it was dropped right at your feet, so you kept a comfortable distance.

Sihtric had no idea how to make it more clear to you that he liked you. He even bought you flowers one day. But he actually thought he had messed up when he gave you flowers, because you thanked him and became quiet. Truth was that a man had never bought you flowers before, so you had no idea how to react, and you felt shy at the moment.

A few days after the flower debacle, you realised late at night that you had run out of wood for your fireplace, and the night became cold quickly. For a while, you tried to sleep without a fire burning, but soon you heard the chattering of your own teeth. You eventually peeked out your window and noticed there was still a fire burning over at Sihtric's hut, so you gathered all your courage and knocked on his door.

'Lady?' Sihtric said, confused but happy to find you on his doorstep, 'is everything okay?'

'Sorry to bother you this late,' you apologised, 'but I have no more wood for my firepit, could I borrow some? If… if you have any left.'

Sihtric said you weren't a bother at all, and he soon carried a small pile over to your hut, which should last you until the morning.

'Gods, it's freezing here,' Sihtric remarked, 'how long have you been without fire?'

'... A while,' you admitted, and Sihtric noticed you were trembling.

He hummed softly at your answer, then went to grab his cloak from his own hut, and came back running to you. He threw the cloak around your shoulders and made haste to start a fire in your freezing home. You buried yourself in his thick, soft cloak, trying to warm up, and you watched Sihtric search around your hut after he had lit the hearth, and without you asking, he started making you some hot tea.

'Here,' he gave you a soft smile, 'drink it, you need to warm up.'

'T-thank you,' you took the cup with trembling hands as he sat down next to you.

'Why did you wait so long?' Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle and wrapped an arm around you, sharing his body heat as you were still wrapped in his cloak, 'it's too cold at night now to not have a fire burning, lady, it can be dangerous.'

'I didn't want to bother you,' you said, embarrassed.

'Again, you are not a bother,' he told you, 'do you have anyone looking after you?'

'No,' you answered, mindlessly leaning into him, 'I lost my family when I was young and I never married.'

'Hm,' Sihtric hummed softly, and you closed your eyes at the comforting sound, 'guess I'll look after you then, lady,' he said softly.

You gave him a shy smile and sipped your tea. You both stared quietly into the fire as your body slowly came back to its regular temperature again, enjoying each other's presence without saying it out loud.

After a little while you felt sleepy, and Sihtric noticed you were dozing off, so your neighbour said he'd better get back to his own bed. And as you were completely oblivious to the bait, you wished him a good night and thanked him again.

Sihtric was stunned when you closed the nearly broken door behind him, and he laughed quietly as he walked into his own hut. Winning you over was not easy, he figured.

The next morning you wanted to return Sihtric's cloak, and as you opened your fragile front door, you found a huge stack of wood for your fireplace piled up next to your door. You smiled, knowing it came from Sihtric, and you carried it inside with a fuzzy feeling.

When you finally went over to return his cloak, you found Sihtric wasn't home, so you'd keep his cloak a little longer you figured. But the next few days you didn't see Sihtric around at all, and you noticed you felt a little worried and even a little gloomy. You actually missed seeing him around, and that feeling had caught you by surprise.

At night you kept thinking of how you had enjoyed being so close to him, when he had helped you with your fireplace and made sure you were warmed up before he left. You actually wished Sihtric would've stayed that night, wrapping you in his arms as you fell asleep, but when he said he'd better get going, you understood he was once again only being friendly. And you desperately tried to get the pretty Dane out of your head, which wasn't easy, even if you didn't see him around.

He was already imprinted in your mind; those beautiful mismatched eyes, his sharp features, his well kept facial hair and the battle scars that graced his god-like face haunted you, even in your dreams, along with the sound of his voice and the way his body felt against yours. And the way he was so kind and helpful, with his sweet smile and those strong arms, in which you had felt safe and warm that night, in front of your fireplace.

And you could only dream of marrying a man like him one day.

About a week later you went to the market and strolled around the town as the weather was nice. When you returned back home, about an hour later, you noticed your front door was missing. You panicked and wanted to run over, but then you suddenly saw Sihtric and the Irish man, who you learned was called Finan, coming up around the corner, carrying a brand new wooden door. You watched from a distance with your jaw dropped as the men installed the new door at your hut. You were excited and relieved to see the handsome Dane, but also terrified because, once again, there was no way you could afford that new door. And when you finally managed to move your feet again, you shuffled over.

'W-what are you… you doing? I… I can't afford that, please,' you looked at the men with slight terror in your eyes.

Finan frowned and laughed, 'Already paid for, lady,' he said, 'no worries.'

'What? But… how? Who? I-,'

'If I were you, lady,' Finan said, 'I'd ask my mate here,' he pointed at Sihtric, 'to check if your bed needs some fixing up. Because he'll gladly help you with that,' he winked and slapped the Dane on his shoulder before walking away. Sihtric blushed.

'I… I don't understand,' you whispered.

You just still couldn't figure it out. Sihtric smiled and then explained he saw your door was a recurring issue, so he got it fixed and all paid for you. You were speechless, and having no idea how to thank him, you handed him an apple you just bought at the market. Sihtric laughed and thanked you after he took a bite from the apple, and made his way back into his own hut.

And it was only days later, when you were preparing dinner, you suddenly understood what Finan had meant with that remark about your bed, and you dropped a plate out of your hands at the realisation that Sihtric was interested in you.

You felt so embarrassed. The man had been helping you out ever since you moved here, and you never picked up on his hints, yet they were all clear now. He must think you were a stuck up woman, as you never really thanked him properly. And so you decided to invite him over for dinner the next day, which Sihtric gladly accepted.

'Very kind of you to cook for me,' Sihtric said as he was seated at your dinner table, watching you serve the food, 'been a long time since a lady made me dinner I didn't have to pay for.'

'Well,' you chuckled, 'it's not alehouse food, but it's the least I could do, to thank you for all you've done for me.'

'Don't mention it,' Sihtric smiled, and he looked shy.

'No, I should mention it,' you handed Sihtric a drink before you sat down across from him, 'no one has ever been that kind to me. Especially not being a stranger in a new place. It's not always easy.'

'I know,' Sihtric said and took a sip, 'I've been to a lot of places. Not always receiving a warm welcome.'

'I bet you've seen some things,' you smiled.

He had told you some stories about his journeys and battles, and it had impressed you. Not everyone was as lucky as Sihtric, to have travelled all through the country and still be alive to tell the stories.

'Where have you been, I've been wondering, when you were gone for several days?' you asked with your mouth full, which Sihtric thought was adorable.

'Had to help fix up a bridge near the river,' Sihtric said, 'took a little longer than expected, but it worked out.'

'I see. I heard the river near the woods here is a nice place.'

'It is,' Sihtric confirmed, 'you haven't been there yet?' he asked before stuffing his mouth with the food you had made, which he thought was a whole feast.

'No,' you smiled weakly as Sihtric stared in your eyes, 'it's a little too far by foot, and I can't afford a horse.'

'Well,' he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, 'I could take you there one day, if you like? I can take you by horse.'

'Really?' your eyes grew big, 'I… I'd love that.'

'Of course. I'll take you there when it's not as cold anymore, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold,' Sihtric smiled sweetly, and took another sip of his drink after he had emptied his plate, 'thank you, lady,' he then said, 'better food than in the alehouse, truly.'

You both chuckled and finished your drink, leaning back and quietly looking at each other. Eyes slowly darting all over each other, and a sudden tension filled your home gradually. You both silently thought about the things you'd like to do with each other. Things that have been on both your minds for a little while already. Things that shouldn't be spoken, but felt.

'You are really pretty, lady,' Sihtric said softly, tilting his head to the side with a smirk.

You felt yourself blush and broke eye contact, 'thank you,' you smiled, 'you're very handsome yourself.'

Sihtric smiled at your shyness and licked his lips, his eyes never leaving you and he cleared his throat.

'Does your bed need some fixing?' he asked, cheekily.

'N-not that I know of,' you giggled softly.

'Well,' he inhaled sharply, 'it may need some fixing tomorrow.'

You stared at him as he got up. He came over to you and took your hand, pressing a polite kiss to the back, before he pulled you up. You felt Sihtric's strong arms circle around your waist as you placed your hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

'Will you fix it tomorrow?' you asked, smiling innocently.

'Mhm,' Sihtric hummed as you slowly pushed him towards your bed, 'it's only fair I fix what I broke myself, is it not, my lady?' he smiled as he looked down into your eyes, his breath tickling your face, which you found a pleasant feeling.

'I think so,' you bit down on your lip when you felt his hands squeezing your ass.

You pushed Sihtric down on your bed, hiked up your skirt and straddled his lip. His warm, rough hands gently moved up your arms, to your shoulders, where he left gentle kisses as he slowly slipped his fingers under the straps of your dress, sliding them off your shoulders. You allowed your dress to fall down your arms, exposing your bare chest to the handsome warrior, who hummed with a smile and bit down on his lip as he watched you. You took his hands and placed them onto your breasts, which he squeezed softly while his eyes darkened, and his breathing became heavier. You brushed your hand through his soft, dark hair as you leaned your face against the shaved side of his head, trailing your fingertips down over his neck, up his throat and gently lifting his chin up.

'I want to thank you,' you whispered, smiling, 'but I can't pay you.'

'I will accept this form of payment,' Sihtric grinned, 'but only for you,' he winked.

You leaned in and softly kissed his lips, and the way he hummed satisfied to your kiss, made you hungry for more. Sihtric laid down on his back and pulled you towards him, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing all over your body before you quickly took off your dress. Then Sihtric flipped you over, with his strong arms, and positioned his hips between your thighs. He pulled his tunic off over his head, exposing his well trained, toned and scarred body, and he smiled when he saw your eyes had darkened upon the sight. His lips found yours quickly and the comfortable weight of his body heated your core instantly. Sihtric quickly rid you both of whatever clothing you still had on, leaving soft, wet kisses all over your shoulder and neck, up to your jaw, until he finally kissed your lips again.

'Are you ready?' he whispered in your ear, already teasing your wet folds with his card cock.

'You promised to break my bed,' you chuckled lightly.

Sihtric laughed softly and kissed your lips as he slowly entered you, swallowing your soft moans as well as silencing his own deep sigh, when he felt your nails scratch down his back. He stilled inside you and broke the kiss, looking down at you with half open eyes, and his parted lips curled into a soft smile.

'Perfect,' Sihtric sighed, leaning his forehead against yours as he hooked your leg around his waist. 'Perfect for me,' he whispered, slowly bucking his hips into yours and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You enjoyed each other for quite some time, and you found out that Sihtric didn't lie when he had said your bed would need fixing, once he took on a rougher pace, which you loved. And you screamed out his name when you reached your high, shortly after Sihtric, and you slept in his arms on your half collapsed bed, which he would fix in the morning, as promised.

And before he left the next day, he kissed your lips and told you that if you ever needed anything…

'You're right over there,' you smiled.

'I am,' Sihtric chuckled as he had you wrapped in his arms, 'maybe you'd like to test my bed sometime?'

'I'd like that,' you smiled and looked up at him.

And Sihtric gave you another soft kiss before he had to go help Uhtred and Finan, and he couldn't wait to tell his friends he had finally won you over.

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#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric #the last kingdom #tlk #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #tlk fic

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chantsdemarins · 3 months

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New Fic: Breath of the Æsir ⚔︎🏰 (Loki X Reader)

Formally (Collapsing in the Arms of Chaos) I changed the name. 😬 I know Medieval stories aren't everyone's fav but heck, I hope you like it! It has been brewing in the coffee pot that is in my head for over a year. I feel slightly self-conscious that after my first time with COVID, my brain is not the same. I hope I still have my ability to write! My last story published a few weeks ago was written while I was falling ill and I know it wasn't my best!

Thank you for reading!! If you want to comment I would be so happy and reblogs are like the most precious thing to me. All art is mine, it's a Photoshop-crazed situation.

Summary: Disenchanted with the Danes' misuse of Norse gods to sanction their brutality, Loki finds himself ostracized. Stripped of his divine powers and bearing a severe injury, he wanders into the realm of the conquered. By a twist of fate, he arrives at your manor, where you await your husband's return. However, destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Blood.

Words: 2,471

Smut rating: Not yet...but there sure will be!

Posting schedule: Every Saturday! I am going to stick to this!

Chapter 1 The Embroidery of Destiny Chapter 2 The Stranger Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

@lokis-little-fawn @lcolumbia1988 @thesoftboiledegg @anukulee @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @nildespirandum @caffiend-queen @mochie85 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @kikster606 @thedistractedagglomeration @glitchquake@simplyholl @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @muddyorbs @vickie5446 @trickster-maiden @grymrayven

Before your family settled again, you had been travelers, moving from one darkened patch of earth to the next. Soil on your boots muddied your paths, creating difficulties in finding a home. There were many things to see, some horrors, some things magical and unfounded. Shapes shifted in the forest where you camped at night. One day your father showed you where they lowered men into the bogs, decorated with bronze. These were not the ways of your people. They did not worship like that. It might have been too much for you to know where some ended up when they were no longer living, not in graves or on pyres. Something else.

By the time you reached the northern lands, your family had negotiated your belongings down to just what the pallid horses could carry. Your croft was built into the very earth you had struggled to cross, with bedrooms burrowed into the side of a hill. It was not built for so much rain. Buckets and sluices were not enough to keep out the floods.

So, when your husband came to marry you, you packed your things neatly, placed them in a pack, and left your parents’ home without drawing a breath. You walked a distance far greater than any you had as a child to his family's land, your new home. The way your family had negotiated the marriage remained a blind spot in your mind. You couldn't fathom it. From a croft to a manor.

Over time, nothing in your marriage seemed to flourish. The land, though beautiful, yielded nothing you sowed. Too sandy or too chelated, perhaps unfortunate timing. You became a wife in the loneliest ways. No spinning of yarn would produce a cloth finer than the wool you began with. Hours of practice composing embroidery resulted in nothing more than half completed sea escarpments, knots, and birds with no flight.

The elegant window that surveyed the tenants' labors only deepened your isolation. They carried on with their duties, and you retired to your quarters, curtains drawn. The chill from your childhood followed you here. The stone walls held a dampness no fire could dispel. You knew somewhere across the hills where your parents still sleeping too close to the earth. Rooms still flooded. Though your loyalty never wavered, even as your husband wandered afar, absent for days at a time, his pursuits as obscure as the horizon beyond your room filled with half-finished tasks.

In kindness or disappointment, he had ensured your education extended beyond your lowly beginnings. Through travels and courtly audiences, barons and other titled men and women recounted their lives' poetry over each glass of mead or wine. You listened for moments when they forgot their lines, most days this was more interesting than their images they wanted you to see.

Although had you not met Isolde of Easting, you would not have thought to plant the spiky yellow gorse along the manor's borders. When the proper conversation waned, you had discovered the titled people still spun tales of their lands. The places they had come or been uprooted from. In the best conversations, you gleaned knowledge of the plants, herbs, and tokens from the first peoples, their ways overshadowed by the new cultures but nonetheless seeming to flow from them to you during the quieter moments—the men away hunting, the embroidery thread running low, the teapot empty. These things were spoken of in hushed tones so the servants would not get ideas.

You spoke of the hawthorn tree, the ravens' work, the swords warriors cast into the cold estuary, found along all the lakes' shores. The Roman merchants who brought tales of Jesus and his cross. The god Woden came from the Angles, and Odin, from the North. Their wars and bloodshed filled the spaces between village homes and now the courts. If asked if you prayed to the Christian god, you couldn't say. You longed to speak of the place where they lowered men into the bogs, the place your father once showed you. Later, in the quiet of your room, you would pull out a relic from beneath the blankets in your chest, and it would look unrecognizable. It once held meaning, but that meaning didn't travel with it.

Sometimes when you were awake much too early, the nightingales still singing, you would dip your quill into the small pot of black soot. You would unroll a small piece of parchment, discarded by the cooks, and write down your dreams. Which had room in your sleep since they were so often unimpeded by the presence of your husband. You wrote in the lais of the Frankish people, counting eight sounds to the line, braiding your dreams with your words.

Had I found a small shell, not rope I would have held it to my ear The ocean's song would have come to me Instead, I was swallowed wholly

This was how things proceeded until the day they did not.

As you came to learn, in the void and closeness of life, nothing is reliable enough to expect its continuation the next day. You should allow for change to slip through the crevices of even the dampest chambers. It just had not happened in so long you almost did not recognize it when something remarkable unfolded at your manor.

On this day, as you sipped your tea, with half-finished yards of cloth draped across your lap, and the unopened book of hours on the small, worn table, your gaze was fixed on the wind billowing the emerald curtains—silk from an era long past, traded by hands unknown. Like much of the decor in the manor, these were vestiges of your husband's family's trade in finery, symbols of their stature akin to that of minor kings.

Elinor, your companion for the last 10 years, rapped on your door abruptly, breaking your contemplative gaze.

“My lady, please excuse me,” she croaked, as the door opened before you could arrange a pretext to delay her entry.

“What is it, Elinor?” you asked, not wishing to dwell on the trivialities of the manor that day. Clearing her throat, she reported urgently of a man in a bad way, injured and lying on the steps. She hastened to your window, the portal to the land beyond your manor, and pointed to the makeshift courtyard where a man lay seemingly lifeless if not for the faint moan you heard.

“Why have you not sought my husband or some other man of decisions?” you questioned with a twinge of fear edging into your refuge of solitude.

“Lady, your husband has traveled beyond into the land of the Scots, and the aldermen are not present either,” she informed you.

“A household of women only, then? How did I overlook such an event?” you pondered.

“Lady, you are often engrossed in your own pursuits within these walls. How could you have noticed your husband's departure?” Elinor reasoned, her words not easing the panic now fully upon you. The thought that your husband had left you unprotected added another layer of anguish.

“At such a time, Elinor, how shall we defend ourselves?” you barely articulated.

“I suspect he gave little thought to the matter,” Elinor replied, her head bowed even lower than her subdued voice.

“Then it falls to me to act in their absence,” you reasoned. Not wanting this conflict or the talk that may ensue you knew you must act quickly. This man perhaps knew your husband, or perhaps it was only a small political scuffle that may have resulted in his injuries. You thought of the many reasons he could have ended up at the steps of your manor of this day. None of them added up entirely.

As you navigated the long, narrow corridors, your thin morning jacket provided little relief from the chill as Elinor aided you with the heavy door. You both stood in awe of the man at your feet. Having seen men before, chiefly your husband. This man’s appearance was now shocking at close view. He was unlike your husband in all ways you could imagine.

“Holy Jesus save us,” Elinor yelled through her missing teeth.

“He will not assist with this, Elinor,” you responded, your eyes surveying the severe wound from his stomach to his chest, the dark blood pooling around his lean form.

The man’s hair was a shade darker than the darkest night. Had night possessed more depth, it would resemble the hue of his locks. His attire suggested nobility, which only intensified the chill you felt. He had clearly been bested in whatever skirmish he had come from, and with no healer at hand, it seemed likely that a burial might soon follow—until his eyes fluttered open.

A striking blue that drew your own darker gaze, hinting at his foreign language or origins. His hand reached out feebly before falling back to his side.

He whispered faintly, “Ásjá.”

“He's alive!” you declared, as if the statement itself could reverse his fate.

“Yes, lady, he lives, I told you. Now what shall we do?” Elinor asked, concern evident in her voice.

“We save him. It is the right thing to do,” you answered.

“But without a healer, we risk much by sheltering him,” Elinor’s voice trembled.

“Then we shall tend to his needs ourselves,” you declared, your courage unusual, unfounded, drawn from the same well that had seen men saved from death at a distance. An instinct came over you. You directed Elinor to gather wood, cloth, herbs, and other necessities that seemed more from your imagination than any practical experience. You quickly cut away his clothes, exposing the dire wound more fully.

“Lady, he may not survive this,” Elinor observed with a somber tone. The unhinged flesh flapping against the seemingly unended torrent of blood emerging from him. How could there be so much blood.

“Silence, Elinor,” you hushed her. Your hands, though failed in the art of tapestry, were adept with needle and thread. So much failure had given you courage.

“We must stem the bleeding before we can stitch him up,” you instructed, asking for a branch from the fire.

“Lady, you cannot—” Elinor began, but you had already pressed the smoldering wood to the wound. The man awoke suddenly, thrashing in pain.

“Hold him down!” you ordered. Elinor, small but determined, restrained his arms.

You envisioned repairing his injury as if it were the "Galley of the Titan’s Moons," a rare piece of embroidery from the northern lands.

“I shall map the night sky upon your body, sir,” you said, speaking into the silence as he drifted further from this world. You sensed the ancestors gather, ready to welcome him, but you were not ready to let him go.

“No, not yet” you whispered, a soft rebuke to the invisible presence.

Elinor looked at you, puzzled. To whom were you speaking?

You were determined. This man would not die. Though you had sent for a proper healer, your task was to keep him alive until they arrived, hoping they would be sober enough to be of use. Much worse would be a drunk priest should your help not find any healer available.

It was not until you had finished suturing his wound that you noticed how his body appeared in the dim light of the great room. Your loneliness resonated with the landscape of his injury. It was a peculiar reaction, but there was something else broken within this man, beyond the sword wound. It was something familiar to your own. You held you own stomach for a moment, it felt as if you were the one almost slain, not him.

Eventually, his bleeding ceased, and the healer arrived, tended to him with poultices and what looked like grain spirits. You wrapped your furs around his sleeping form. He did not pass away. The stranger in your home survived. You had been told he might still not make the night. You watched him for as long as your eyes could. His faint inhalations mirrored in your own. But the exhaustion took over, and before you could retreat to your own chamber, you found yourself lying at his side.

“How improper, Lady!” Elinor’s voice pierced the quiet as dawn crept in and your eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep beside the stranger. Startled, you rose, wrapping a blanket around yourself. Quickly finding a reason that you had slept at his side.

“He remains unconscious, Elinor. The healer was unsure if he would wake,” you confided in the servant who had been by your side for so many years. She looked briefly placated. Yet you knew her mind was racing. The healer would tell the burgh folk of this strange man. Your husband was nowhere to be known. Northman had recently been subdued with heavy piles of church silver, and that arrangement was delicate at best. They would be back and this time they would perhaps sack the village since you knew the last of the silver had been promised away to visiting bishops and clergy. The wealth had run its course.

“He must stay until he awakens, until he can speak for himself,” you quickly decided.

It was better to know who he was. He would surely tell you since you saved his life.

“But what if he is a demon, my lady? Have you considered that he may have come from Hell to bring us further misfortune?” Elinor ventured, instantly regretting her words as her face contorted with shame.

“I apologize. I did not mean to imply you are cursed,” she hastily added.

You felt pity for Elinor, she was not as traveled as you had become. Had not the stories you knew, but you also could not see beyond, you had no way to know if it was safe to keep him with you. If your husband should arrive back, there would be no way to convince him that this man had not abused you in some way, but you did know something of him. There was something you did recognize.

“This man is no curse, no demon,” you affirmed, your gaze fixed on his hair, as dark as the ink with which you wrote.

“How can you be certain?” she queried.

“He spoke in the old tongue, asking for aid. Did you not hear him, Elinor?” you questioned, your voice steady.

The woman stepped back, tossing another log onto the fire, her confusion apparent. “I did not recognize the language, nor do I understand how you did,” she admitted.

The language was familiar to you, it was the tongue of your people from so long ago. From the place of your birth. The place that was destroyed till there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 2 below!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x reader #mcu #norse mythology #medieval fanfic #AU loki #tom hiddleston

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thethirdromana · 9 months

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Visiting Whitby with Mina Murray

Last year I illustrated Mina's description of Whitby a selection of modern photos. This year, I thought I might go one better, so here are some views of Whitby as Mina might have seen it in the 1890s*.

[*or as close as I could manage.]

"This is a lovely place. The little river, the Esk, runs through a deep valley, which broadens out as it comes near the harbour."

"A great viaduct runs across, with high piers, through which the view seems somehow further away than it really is."

[I don't actually know the age of this photo, but it looks about right.]

"The valley is beautifully green, and it is so steep that when you are on the high land on either side you look right across it, unless you are near enough to see down."

"The houses of the old town—the side away from us—are all red-roofed, and seem piled up one over the other anyhow..."

"... like the pictures we see of Nuremberg."

[this is Nuremberg sometime between 1890 and 1906]

"Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of "Marmion," where the girl was built up in the wall."

"It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there is a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows."

"Between it and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones."

"This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea."

"It descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze."

[this painting by William Lionel Wyllie is from 1922, so a bit later, but I thought it was too pretty not to include. St Mary's and the graveyard are at the top left, and you can see the steep descent below.]

"The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along outside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens."

"It is nice at high water; but when the tide is out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there."

[from Horne's Guide to Whitby, 1897]

"Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse. At the end of it is a buoy with a bell, which swings in bad weather, and sends in a mournful sound on the wind. They have a legend here that when a ship is lost bells are heard out at sea."

"The steps are a great feature on the place. They lead from the town up to the church, there are hundreds of them—I do not know how many—and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them."

And a bonus - might Mina have bought one of these postcards for Jonathan?

[they are from 1903, so the answer to this is "no", but again I thought they were too pretty not to include.]

#dracula daily #historical context #july 24 #had this one in my drafts since may so i hope you all like it

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moris-auri · 4 months

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As It Was

Pairing: Osferth x Brynja

Word count: 3.1k

Summary: The battle of Wintanceaster is over, and Brynja, a handmaiden in service to Lady Æthelflæd eagerly awaits his return.

warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW, P in V sex, mild angst.

A/N: just a little thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for my Old Norse questions 💗💗

taglist: @artyoms @black-dread @helaelaemond @orcaunionleader @arcielee @sylasthegrim @bottlesandbarricades @barbieaemond

She had barely raised the cup to her mouth when the rumble of horse hooves came suddenly, shattering the midday silence like shards of glass. Brynja shifted, wincing as the hard flat surface of the bench dug unpleasantly into the skin on the underside of her thighs, as her eyes, a rich shade of brown, locked with those of Leofflæd. She doesn’t say a word to the other girl, doesn’t have to - not when they both know it can only mean one thing - that the siege of Wintanceaster was over and the King had come to some agreement with the Danes.

The thought fills her with relief, feeling the threads of worry and anxiousness that lingered in the line of her shoulders and her spine dissipate. She, like every other person in Æglesburgh, had heard from the people fleeing the plague, of the taking of the palace and the Queen, Lady Aelswith and the King's sons.

She had never been more than a little thankful lady Æðelflæd had gone, riding north to quell the uprising in the north when the word came.

She bowed her head, her lips moving soundlessly as she muttered a prayer to Týr for protection under her breath as it went silent again, the noise lessening to the point where it was as silent as a tomb, before the soft tones of Lady Æðelflæd and the voices of the King and Lord Uthred came, growing in volume with each second.

Her head tilted to the side as she listened, the low sound of her breathing and the pop of the flames in the hearth the only noise. Whatever they were speaking of was enough to warrant shouting - if their raised voices emanating from beyond the doors were anything to go by.

She swiftly rose to her feet, making her way towards the entryway, only to be greeted almost immediately by blinding sunlight. Harsh and unforgiving, it glared down over the bustle of men and horses in the courtyard.

It was bright enough to make her pause, stopping in her tracks with a hand raised to shield her eyes in an attempt to blink back the stars that dotted the edge of her vision. Her gaze shifted the second her sight returned to normal, eyes flitting over the others before landing on the all too familiar head of sandy hair that stood out like a beacon amidst his darker haired companions.

The sight of him - though he had not noticed her yet - made her breath hitch, the air stilling in her lungs, and she could feel her heart begin to beat faster, an almost girlish eagerness unfurling like a flower behind her ribcage as his name beat like a mantra in her mind, over and over and over.

Osferth. Osferth. Osferth.

Ever since she laid eyes on him that first time, the still green boy on the cusp of becoming a man - she had been enthralled, and not just by the vivid blue of his eyes or the color that dusted across the curve of his cheekbones or by his flaxen hair that turned to burnished gold by the slowly lowering sun - but by his very demeanor. He was humble in a way many of the men she had come into contact with were not, as different as the others like night to day. But like anyone, the sight of blood and battle had hardened him, peeling the naivety from him bit by bit like the skin of an onion.

As the years passed, one after the other, she had grown to treasure his company the few and far between times he, Sihtric, Finan and Uthred came to Æðelflæd's estate before going again.

Though no matter how well she tried to hide it, the sight of his back to her atop a horse, growing smaller and smaller the further he went, never failed to make her heart twist painfully, fingers lifting almost unconsciously to press against her lips, worry sitting heavy like a stone in her stomach.

It was only when he and the others had returned to Beamfleot after that battle against the Danes did the realization just how much she cared for him slam into her like a hammer striking an anvil. It had felt like her heart had stopped beating the instant her eyes landed on him in the back of that cart, bloodied and weakened and pale.

The knowing stares from Leofflæd and Lady Æðelflæd herself had followed her near every step, watching her find some excuse to be near to him in the time he had been in the keep, capable of doing little as he healed from his wounds.

She reached out, touching his elbow hesitantly, feeling the coarseness of the roughspun tunic under her fingers. "Osferth."

He turned around at the sound of his name, blue eyes widening at the sight of her. "My lady."

"Brynja," he amended quickly, seeing the look on her face. She cleared her throat weakly, feeling a lump build in her throat. No matter how many times she heard him say it, she doubted she would ever want him to stop. He looked like he wanted to say more, only for his cheeks to turn red as Finan came up behind him, one hand falling to his shoulder.

"You grow prettier every time I see you, my lady," the Irishman jested in lieu of a greeting, eyes settling on her.

"Finan." She rolled her eyes. He barked a laugh at the falsely unamused note to her voice, a broad grin on his face. "It is good to see you though."

"You as well, lady."

Lord Uthred barged past them suddenly without a word, Sihtric on his heels, and she caught a brief glance of the anger still clinging to his expression. She returned her gaze to Osferth, a question burning in her eyes. He hesitated, sharing a look with Finan before answering. "The Dane took a captive. Stiorra."

"Oh."

"Forgive us, lady," he uttered half under his breath, tugging at the neck of his robe, pulling it away from his skin with a disgruntled look. It was then did she notice the dirt and dried blood clinging to him and Finan both.

"Yes, of course," she said as she took a step back, already scanning the crowd for Lady Æðelflæd and Leofflæd. She turned to say something, only to see the sight of their backs as they entered the hall.

The atmosphere of the feasting hall was warm, bordering on stifling, the space, normally almost empty, filled with bodies and the low hum of voices chattering mindlessly as evening fell, the sun giving way to night as the sky outside darkened to indigo. The feasting had been going for some time, bowls and platters of food covering the table's surface. Ale and dishes piled high with meats, deer and venison and rabbit served at the expense of Lady Æðelflæd passing from hand to hand.

Yet despite the joyousness of it, the only thing she could focus on was the heat coming off of Osferth's lean frame from where he sat beside her. His arm brushed hers as he reached for something in front of her and she startled, fingers tightening around the base of the cup.

"I've missed you."

The words come out before she can even consider them, soft and so faint, and she flushes, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, uttering a wordless curse in her head. Osferth froze, arm still extended towards whatever he had been reaching for.

"I- I am sorry," she exhaled, turning her gaze the other way, feeling half a fool. His hand closed over hers before she could say another word. She startled, turning back to meet his gaze, watching his throat bob as he swallowed. Suddenly everything else around her faded, the din of the voices turning into a faint hum, the only thing she can think of is how close he is to her.

Sitting like this, with his leg pressed against hers, nearly nose to nose with him, she can count every individual eyelash and the specks of darker blue in his irises, the sparse bits of growth on the sharp cut of his jaw and the desire darkening his pupils to a shade of blue that was not unlike the waves along the coast.

The echoes of the feast faded, growing fainter and fainter the further they went. Guided by nothing but the torchlight flickering over the walls, they weaved through hall after hall until the familiar door to her chamber came into view, and her grip tightened around his fingers as she pulled him inside, the door shutting behind him quietly.

Brynja turned, almost immediately feeling the loss of his warmth as she let go. She bit her lip, unable to tear her eyes from his face. He was so very pretty in this light, the flickering light coming from the hearth casting shadows over his face.

"I want you," she breathed, curling one hand around his jaw, emboldened by the ale she had consumed over the course of the night. He caught her mouth in a kiss that was little more than a messy tangle of teeth and tongue, his fingers skirting further upwards, weaving into her hair, ruining Leofflæd's carefully done work without a care in the world. She nipped at his lip, tasting the ale on his lips, mingled with some other note that was not entirely unpleasant.

"We cannot," he panted, tugging back to stare at her. His eyes were blown wide in the dim, the pretty blue eclipsed by the dark of his pupil. "I am a bastard-"

"I find I do not care for that word." Brynja interrupted sharply, her voice low and adamant. She pressed her fingers to his mouth to silence him, her brows furrowing as she stared up at him, daring him to argue with her. "It is Alfred's sin, Osferth," she breathed barely half a second later before pulling her fingers away. "Not yours. Never yours, when you are twice the man he could ever dream to be."

She pressed closer, shifting her hand from his jaw to his neck, the pressure of her fingers digging into the skin drawing a half startled noise from deep within his chest. The sound rocked through her body, drawing a whine and a wave of gooseflesh in its wake. Her heart began to beat faster, thumping harshly against her ribs.

He seemed to flush more, if it were possible, great splotches of pink spreading over the curve of his cheekbones and down his neck. His hands, roughened and callused and battle worn, flexed against her hips, heat bleeding through the thin cotton to warm the skin beneath.

"My lady-"

She teasingly raised a hand, trailing one finger over the line of his jaw, staring up at him from under her lashes. "I am not quite a lady though, am I?"

"No," he croaked in agreement, staring down at her with a soft look in his eyes. "You are more than that." Her fingers returned to his hair at that, pulling him to her as she tugged on the sandy hued strands, pressing her lips to his. He whimpered in response, arm twisting around her waist as he choked out a ragged noise against her mouth.

She reared backward at the sound, heart thudding in her chest as she stared wide eyed at him. "I'll stop-"

Osferth shook his head rapidly, strands of mussed hair falling into his eyes with the movement. The urge to brush his hair back rose, and it was with no small amount of effort that she stifled it. "Don't," he murmured, and she could hear the not quite whine in his voice, the near silent plea for more, his expression a heady mix of steadily growing desperation and lust.

Suddenly shy, the ale fueled bravery fading to a faint thrumming in her veins, she dropped her gaze, focusing blindly on something past his shoulder. He slid one of his fingers underneath her chin, lifting her head as she had done to him earlier. "No."

His voice was firm, the sight of the desire in his eyes catching her off guard, her legs pressing together in response. "I would see you, Brynja. As you are."

"How beautiful you are." He all but sighed the words when the last layer dropped in a puddle at her feet, his exhale as soft as a bird's feather.

"As are you," she cannot help but add, cheeks heating at his words. Brynja dropped one hand between them, the other weaving into his hair. She brushed her fingers over the outline of his cock straining behind his breeches, and he made that sound again, that choked whimper as his eyes squeezed shut, and she knew then and there that there was never another sound she wanted to hear.

She crooned his name softly, sliding her palm up the length of his body, brushing the tips of her fingers across almost every inch of his face. He turned his head then, eyes opening before batting her hand away. His thumb brushed over her cheek, the look in his eyes soft, murmuring her name, once, twice, three times, uttering it like it was a prayer to his God.

A breath passed, the hold he had on her hip tightening as they moved blindly. A wave of pain shot up her leg when her knee connected with the low baseboard of her bed, a startled yelp tumbling from her lips as they fell in a tangle of limbs atop the thin mattress. It was all too easy to ignore the pain pulsing sluggishly in her knee with him beneath her like this, the length of him hard against her thigh.

She gripped the bed linens with one hand as she arched upwards to kiss him, tangling her fingers into his hair, moaning against his lips as she pulled at the strands, the rasping sound of his groan vibrating down the length of her body, and she shudders against him, his name a low whine on her tongue as she twines her arms across the width of his back, legs wrapping around his waist to hold him to her. "Please-"

Her plea works, almost too easily as the silk thin strings of his resolve snap. The sweaty ends of his hair tickle her skin as he ducked his head, forehead pressing against the hollow of her throat, his breathing ragged. It was almost divine to hear him so unwound, watching all the tension that lingered in his muscles fade till there was nothing but the pleasure turning the sharp planes of his face slack.

He let out a strangled noise, pulling out of her, painting her lower stomach with his seed as the sounds of their breathing fill the otherwise quiet room. She half lifted herself up on her elbows to watch him as he stood, the dim light of the hearth shining on the thin film of sweat still clinging to his skin. He crossed the room to the basin on a table by the door before turning back, falling on his back beside her, the chill of the cloth against her skin making her shiver.

She inched closer to him once he had tossed the rag to the side, resting her ear against his chest, half lulled by the steady thud of his heart under his skin, mapping a path over the ridges and scars dotting his flesh with her fingertips. He pressed his lips to her forehead, arm curving over her side as his fingers tapped out a mindless rhythm on the jut of her hip beneath the furs. "Will you come with me? To Coccham?"

Dumbfounded, Brynja stared at him, head tilted back, prepared to immediately voice her refusal. But the sight of his face, the hope that glimmered so brightly in his eyes made her stall and pause, the words dying in her throat. The force of her teeth clacking together rattled in her head as she swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry, feeling the syllables of his name linger on the tip of her tongue. "Osferth…"

"I wo… would like it very much if you did," he stammered, cheeks turning red, but even as he said it, she could see the hope in his eyes dim. She licked her lip, shifting closer to him, kissing beneath his jaw. "I will ask my Lady tomorrow," she said finally, carding her fingers through his damp hair, and he grins down at her, a smile lighting up his face at her response, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

She barely had a chance to react before he curled a hand around her thigh, his pupils dilating, the blue of his eyes dark before he tugged her closer to the edge of the bed, the low thump of his knees hitting the floor, the warmth of his breath fanning over her skin. "Good."

Brynja moved through the halls of Æglesburgh the next morning, her steps muffled by the hem of her dress. Osferth's words and the echo of his touch from the previous night lingering in her mind, her worry growing with each step she took.

"My Lady."

Æðelflæd's head lifted at the title, the early morning sunlight glinting off her chestnut hair and the pale blonde of Aelfwynn beside her. "Brynja. You look rested."

Brynja said nothing as she twisted her fingers behind her, pulling her lip between her teeth, and Æðelflæd's brows furrowed at the sight of the tell. "Something troubles you," she noted.

"Yes, my lady." She breathed quietly, keeping her eyes downcast. "Tis Osferth. He wi-"

"He wants you to go with him." Æðelflæd finished knowingly, the line between her brows smoothing.

"Yes."

Æðelflæd sighed, beckoning her closer. "I knew this would come one day. That you would leave. I dreaded it, but I knew." Her clear blue eyes lifted to settle on Brynja's face. "You have asked for little and less in the time you've served me." Æðelflæd stretched out her arm, wrapping her fingers around Brynja's own. "Do you wish to go, though? I will not stop you if you do."

She could practically picture it as soon as the words left her mouth, could easily see Osferth in a bed, their bed, his pale skin lit aglow from the morning light, blue eyes still carrying traces of sleep as he smiled. The thought of spending every day with him, every sunrise and sunset by his side….

Her answer came easily, flowing off her tongue like silk, "I do."

#my fics #osferth #osferth smut #osferth fic #osferth x oc #osferth fanfic #the last kingdom #my ocs #oc character #ocappreciation

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aroyalfox · 11 months

Photo

Orville Peck Album Packaging shot by Julia Johnson with set design by Dane Johnson. Styled by Cathy Hahn. Groomed by Sandy Ganzer.

#Orville Peck #Bronco #yeehaw #Julia Johnson #photography #album covers

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panelshowsource · 9 months

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britcom comedians & panel show personalities who share your sign

AQUARIUS ♒ dara ó briain • frank skinner • glenn moore • guz khan • hugh dennis • lucy porter • maisie adam • mark watson • phil wang • vic reeves

PISCES ♓ aisling bea • alan davies • dave gorman • ed gamble • jenny eclair • katy wix • michael mcintyre • rose matafeo

ARIES ♈ andy parsons • desiree burch • ed byrne • gary delaney • jamali maddix • john kearns • josh widdicombe • josie long • roisin conaty • romesh ranganathan • rory bremner

TAURUS ♉ al murray • alex brooker • catherine tate • greg davies • joe wilkinson • john robins • mae martin • milton jones • morgana robinson • rhys james • rob brydon • sally phillips • sandi toksvig • sean lock • stephen mangan

GEMINI ♊ alan carr • bob mortimer • david baddiel • fern brady • judi love • julian clary • london hughes • mel giedroyc • noel fielding • paul sinha • rich hall • richard ayoade • sara pascoe • sarah millican • shappi khorsandi • sindhu vee • tom allen

CANCER ♋ adam hills • alice levine • david mitchell • katherine ryan • harriet kemsley • ian hislop • jack whitehall • joe lycett • paul merton • peter serafinowicz • phill jupitus • rosie jones

LEO ♌ bridget christie • cariad lloyd • chris ramsey • daisy may cooper • frankie boyle • isy suttie • lee mack • jo brand • nish kumar • victoria coren mitchell

VIRGO ♍ alex horne • dane baptiste • darren harriott • ivo graham • jimmy carr • johnny vegas • lolly adefope • miles jupp • nina conti • stephen fry • sue perkins • tim key

LIBRA ♎ diane morgan • harry hill • jack dee • jon richardson • limmy • nick helm • rhod gilbert • robert webb • tiff stevenson • zoe lyons

SCORPIO ♏ angela barnes • chris addison • elis james • ellie taylor • holly walsh • liza tarbuck • jonathan ross • kerry godliman • kevin bridges • matt forde • mike wozniak • sofie hagen • susan calman

SAGITTARIUS ♐ adam riches • david o'doherty • jessica knappett • larry dean • miranda hart • richard osman • seann walsh • simon amstell • steven k. amos

CAPRICORN ♑ ahir shah • angus deayton • bill bailey • claudia winkleman • james acaster • mark lamarr • paul foot • rob beckett • suzi ruffell

#REPOSTING CUZ I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT HAHA #sorry i can't include every person ever but i tried to at least do everyone's faves!#a good day to be a gemini!!!#signs

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hikinglikeaviking · 9 months

Text

Runestone in Ribe viking village

Inscription with translation:

Véstæinn satti stæin þannsi aft Ásvið, sun sinn, harða góðan dræng. SaR druknaði utan af Norvegi

Vestein raised this stone in memory of Asvid, his son, a very good boy, who drowned on the way back from Norway.

DaniR í Hvitingi gærði arðrfaraR í Ljósum sandi

The Danes in Hviding made furrows in the pale sand

DaniR í Rípu gørva slóð þessa lìfandi

The Danes in Ribe make these tracks come alive

Karen ok Bjarni létu gørva kumbl at mikit afl ok líf donum

Karen and Bjarne had this monument made to give the Danes power and life

EirikR rauði risti

Eric (the) Red carved

Text from: ribevikingecenter.dk

#🦝#history #historic reenactment #viking #reenactment #medieval #runes #runestone #Erik the red also happened to carve the stone of our city as well

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gentle-giant-swag · 11 months

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HELLO EVERYONE! I SHALL NOW REVEAL THE BRAKCETS

First up

Wait

MOST FUCKABLE GENTLE GIANT

The A bracket (finished)

Battle 1-16

(most submissions in form 1 and most submissions in form b)

Starts Friday the 9th of June. 5pm CET. The brackets will be posted between the 9-10th of June.

Side A, 9th of June. 5pm to 8pm cet

Raphael Hamato (rise of the TMNT) vs Totoro (my neighbor Totoro)

Heavy (team fortress 2) vs Big Friendly Giant (BFG)

King Dedede (Kirby) vs Scorpia (She-ra)

Bismuth (Steven universe) vs Susan Murphy (monsters vs aliens)

Fezzik (the princess bride) vs Dick Gumshoe (ace attorney)

Master Chief (halo) vs Bumblebee (bumblebee)

Big Macintosh (my little pony: friendship is magic) vs Massimo Marcovaldo (Luca)

The titan (the owl house) vs Tyson (Percy Jackson)

Side B, 10th of June, 5pm to 8pm CET

Ivan Bruel (miraculous ladybug) vs Asahi Azumane (haikyuu)

Takeo Goda (ore monogatari) vs Caduceus Clay (critical role)

Milly Thompson (tri-gun) vs Sandy (Lego monkie kid)

Jaguar D. Saul vs Jean Bart (one piece)

Komamura (bleach) vs William Ellis (identity v)

Beelzebub (obey me) vs Kazanari Genjuurou (symphogear)

Senri (plus anima) vs Murakumo (rune factory 5)

Holly (super lesbian animal rpg) vs Brutus Feels (Kane and feels)

The B bracket (finished)

Battles 17-32

Characters who have returned from the spring bracket and from fandoms I’ve personally interacted with. So the spring bracket but we blacklisted big man

Date: Tuesday 13/6 to Wednesday 14/6, between 5pm to 8pm CET

Side A (Tuesday)

The iron giant vs Baymax (big hero 6)

Gonta gokuhara (danganronpa) vs Jonathan Joestar (JoJo’s bizarre adventure)

Dj (total drama) vs Yasutora “Chad” Sado (bleach

Muriel (the arcana) vs Jasmine (total drama)

Subject Delta (bioshock) vs aaarrrgghh (trollhunters)

Klaus Von Reinherz (kekkai sensen) vs Asterios (fate grand order)

Hunk (Voltron) vs Gooliope Jellington (monster high)

Dragonite (Pokémon) vs Asgore Dreemurr (undertale)

Side B (Wednesday)

Alphonse Elric vs Major Lewis Armstrong (full metal alchemist)

Urbosa (legend of Zelda) vs Glamrock Freddy (five nights at Freddy’s)

Milla Vodello vs Helmut Fullbear (psychonauts)

Dedue Molinaro vs Raphael Kirsten (fire emblem: three houses)

Winston vs B.O.B (overwatch)

Kanji Tatsumi (persona) vs Common Wubbox (my singing monsters)

Mordecai vs Muarim (fire emblem: gay rights path of radiance/radiant dawn)

Minsc & Boo (baldur’s gate) vs Big the cat (sonic the hedgehog)

C BRACKET (ongoing)

Battles 33-48

Those who fell in between the A and the D bracket. So this one has some pretty chaotic matchups

Date: Sunday the 18th to Monday the 19th, 5pm to 8pm cet

A bracket: Sunday

Nicholas St North (rise of the guardians) vs Grear Danes (irl)

Falkor the good luck dragon (the never ending story) vs Susan Strong (adventure time)

Grandpa Max (Ben 10) vs Cerberus (Greek mythology)

Kiryu Kazuma (yakuza) vs Dr Joshua Strongbear Sweet (Atlantis)

Fatgum (my hero academia) vs Takashi Morinozuka (ouran highschool host club)

Will Powers (ace attorney) vs Luther (Detroit: become human)

The Tick (the tick 1994) vs Evan Buck Buckley (911 on fox)

Riki Nendou (saiki k) vs Hearts Boxcars (homestuck)

Side B (Monday)

Shirahoshi vs Tony Tony Chopper (one piece)

Jetfire/skyfire (transformers) vs Indus Tarbella (epithet erased)

Sisyphus (hades) Vs Grog Strongjaw (critical role)

Hugo the abominable snowman (looney tunes) vs Aone Takanobu (Haikyuu)

Android 16 (dragon ball) vs Tiny (ever after high)

Wrecker (Star Wars: the bad batch) vs K (virtues last reward)

Goldlewis Dickinson vs Potemkin (guilty gear)

Yasha Nydoorin (critical role) vs Lily Bowen (fall out)

D BRACKET

Battles 49-64

Aka the one where the contestants sadly got the least amount of votes)

Date: Thursday 22/6th to Friday 23/6th 5pm to 8pm CET

Side A: Thursday

lain chu (dragon hunters) vs Panda (tekken)

Isaroth (genshin impact) vs Bizarro (DC red hood and the outlaws)

Jienji (Inuyasha) vs Jackie Wells (cyberpunk 2077)

Looks to the moon (rain world) vs Jogu (naruto)

Bane Perez (identify V) vs Zinnia (super lesbian animal rpg)

Vulkanon (rune factory 4) vs Argus (Greek mythology)

Mountain (ark knights) vs Taiga Saejima (yakuza)

Abbi (Omori) vs Gorem (bakugan)

SIDE B: Friday

Junko (storm hawks) vs Hajin (monstress)

Gylph (super lesbian animal RPG) vs Bongchun (Bongchun bride)

Fitz Fellow (detective grimoire) vs Bubbles (questionable content)

Dubo (omega strikers) vs Bob the titan (Percy Jackson)

Otto the giant water dog (wondla) vs Kurita Ryoukan (Eyeshield 21)

Mele the Horizons Roar (ishura) vs Gentle Bear (dog island)

The Selfish Giant vs Banjo Lilywhile (the hogfather)

Livio the double fang (trigun) vs Hank McCoy (x-men)

I will make propaganda master posts and if you want to add, just use the ask box or dm me with propaganda for one of the characters who’s going to participate. But that’s all!

May the best gentle giant WIN!

SECOND CHANCE BATTLES FOR ROUND 1

27/6, apricot bracket

Battle 1

Battle 2

Battle 3

Battle 4

29/2, shavedown of the apricot bracket

The battle

1/7, blueberry bracket

Battle 1

Battle 2

Battle 3

Battle 4

3/7, shavedown

The battle

4/7, citron bracket

Battle 1

Battle 2

Battle 3

Battle 4

5/7, shavedown

7/7, durian bracket

Battle 1

Battle 2

Battle 3

Battle 4

8/7, shavedown

The (un)official GGSmod messed up someone’s name post

The crime list

Ask game

#gentle giant swag #tumblr tournament #fandom tournament #tumblr bracket #fandom bracket #my neighbor totoro #bioshock #Kirby #jjba #ace attorney #trigun #total drama #danganronpa #the arcana #the iron giant

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bignaz8 · 8 months

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THE MOST AUTHENTIC GHOST HUNTERS ON TV!

On September 13, 1969, the first episode of SCOOBY DOO, WHERE ARE YOU? premiered on CBS Television and changed the lives of thousands of kids who'd grow up wishing for their own version of the Mystery Machine.

The series was created for Hanna-Barbera Productions by Joe Ruby and Ken Spears, loosely basing the original episodes on the old "I Love A Mystery" radio show. The Saturday morning cartoon show featured four teenagers—Fred Jones, Daphne Blake, Velma Dinkley, and Norville "Shaggy" Rogers (based on beatnik Maynard G. Krebs from "Dobie Gillis")—and their talking Great Dane named Scooby-Doo, who solved what seemed to be supernatural mysteries through a series of mishaps. In the end, they always found out that the real monsters were people, which is a statement on society that hasn't really changed in 50 years.

Those "meddling kids" became a huge success and the show featured guest voices that ranged from Batman and Robin (Adam West and Burt Ward), Vincent Price, Sandy Duncan, the Addams Family, Phyllis Diller, Don Knotts, and "Mama" Cass Elliot. It would later change networks, change formats, and become feature films.

The characters have become a part of America's cultural history and, to this day, are more believable than any of the other ghost hunters that have appeared on our TV screens.

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warrioreowynofrohan · 2 years

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Because the geography of Whitby is handy to know later on, and I have no ability to visualize things, I'm going to post a little map (very low quality, I'm bad at this) of present-day Whitby with some of the places Mina mentions marked on it.

The Crescent (centre left), a fancy part of Whitby where Lucy is staying.

Lucy met me at the station, looking sweeter and lovelier than ever, and we drove up to the house at the Crescent in which they have rooms.

2. The ruins of Whitby Abbey, up on the east cliff (lower right).

Right over the town is the ruin of Whitby Abbey, which was sacked by the Danes, and which is the scene of part of “Marmion” where the girl was built up in the wall. It is a most noble ruin, of immense size, and full of beautiful and romantic bits; there’s a legend that a white lady is seen in one of the windows.

3. The graveyard of St. Mary's Church with the view over the cliffs and harbour that Mina likes (lower right).

Between [Whitby Abbey] and the town there is another church, the parish one, round which is a big graveyard, all full of tombstones. This is to my mind the nicest spot in Whitby, for it lies right over the town, and has a full view of the harbour and all up the bay to where the headland called Kettleness stretches out into the sea. It descends so steeply over the harbour that part of the bank has fallen away, and some of the graves have been destroyed. In one place part of the stonework of the graves stretches out over the sandy pathway far below. There are walks, with seats beside them, through the churchyard; and people go and sit there all day long looking at the beautiful view and enjoying the breeze. I shall come and sit here very often myself and work.

4. Whitby harbour, with the two lighthouses circled.

The harbour lies below me, with, on the far side, one long granite wall stretching out into the sea, with a curve outwards at the end of it, in the middle of which is a lighthouse. A heavy sea-wall runs along aside of it. On the near side, the sea-wall makes an elbow crooked inversely, and its end too has a lighthouse. Between the two piers there is a narrow opening into the harbour, which then suddenly widens.

It is nice at high water; but when the tide it out it shoals away to nothing, and there is merely the stream of the Esk, running between banks of sand, with rocks here and there. Outside the harbour on this side there rises for about half a mile a great reef, the sharp edge of which runs straight out from behind the south lighthouse.

The reef isn't in the photo above, but if you go to Google Maps you can see it angling off to the northwest.

5. The steps down from the graveyard to the town (lower right).

He hobbled away, and I could see him hurrying, as well as he could, down the steps. The steps are a great feature on the place. They lead from the town up to the church, there are hundreds of them – I do not know how many – and they wind up in a delicate curve; the slope is so gentle that a horse could easily walk up and down them. I think they must have originally had something to do with the abbey.

One other feature of the town Mina mentions is the viaduct, which isn't in the map above because it's far south of the rest.

#dracula #dracula daily #whitby

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thetriggeredhappy · 1 year

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for definitely not monetary reasons, the request was “More on Spy and Pyro having to share a bathroom (shared ensuite because Mann Co. are cheapskates), please!”

warnings for brief alcohol mention, enjoy some wholesome (?) spy&pyro

There were many worrying things to find in the ensuite Jack-and-Jill bathroom. A full flame-resistant suit hung up to dry like some sort of post-apocalyptic wraith. Four-in-one shampoo, contidioner, body wash, and nail polish remover. Once, a spider. A very large one.

Perhaps this wasn’t the most worrying thing to find in the ensuite. But he would consider it in the top ten.

Pyro’s head whipped up in his direction, eyes wide, shocked, as if he was the one doing something questionable. The dog’s head followed lazily a moment later, dripping suds onto the tile floor.

Spy’s eyes moved over the dog—a Great Dane, if he had to take a guess. Trailed over the fluffy, imported, monogrammed towel that was in Pyro’s off hand, soaked with the same sort of sandy grime that was slowly flowing down the drain. Over the trail of muddy pawprints that led from their door all around the bathroom, including on the hand-woven rug he had in front of his side of the counter and, inexplicably, dotted haphazardly across the shower curtain.

“Spy, do you,” Pyro signed slowly, calmly, “like dogs?”

Spy felt his eye twitch. In the bathtub, a glob of drool fell from the dog’s mouth and onto the towel in Pyro’s hand. “Not remotely,” he deadpanned.

“Okay. Do you,” Pyro asked next, “like secrets?”

Spy inhaled. Exhaled. “I don’t know what you mean,” he intoned calmly. “I haven’t seen anything lately that would remotely qualify as a secret. Unless you’re referring to the fact that you’re planning to surprise me by scrubbing our bathroom absolutely spotless, in which case, oui. I adore secrets.”

Pyro looked at him. Looked at the dog. Looked at him. “I like secrets too,” they finally signed.

Spy was not in the mood for any sort of shenanigans. Not while wearing a bathrobe. But he had a terrible, terrible sinking feeling that this would not, in fact, be the end of this. To risk sounding like the action stars present in Scout’s terrible movies, it was perhaps only the beginning.

“Do not name it,” he warned. “You’ll get attached.”

“His name is Butane,” Pyro replied.

“Of course it is,” Spy sighed. Butane the dog licked its chops. Spy wrinkled his nose as another glob of slobber fell free. “Well, much like the rest of your lighter fluid, I am not going to be tolerating it in our base, but especially not in the bathroom I am forced to share with you.”

“I have to deal with your bourbon and cologne taking up a whole cabinet,” Pyro protested. “And he won’t even be a problem!”

“My bourbon does not drip spit onto custom-made towels. Which I do not recall giving you permission to use,” Spy scowled.

“My towels are in the wash.” Pyro gave the dog a scratch behind the ears, and it blinked balefully up at Spy, one eye at a time. “And you have like, ten.”

Spy wanted to sigh, but that would require taking a deep breath again, and the stench of wet dog was already nearly suffocating.

“Come on,” Pyro tried, giving a much more immediately effective pair of puppy-dog eyes, helped by the fact that they didn’t look like a big, sad, wet flour sack that had some legs slapped onto it and not a single microsecond of obedience training.

“I don’t know why you’re pleading with me,” Spy droned. “Like I said. I didn’t see anything.”

Pyro cheered, throwing their arms up. The Great Dane took that as it’s cue to shake.

Spy couldn’t help it. He sighed as he wiped soap from his eyes. “I’ll just go shower in the locker rooms,” he mumbled, shutting the door behind him.

#a short one but a good one #shut up me #tf2 #team fortress 2 #spy & pyro #my fanfiction #this was fun to write. i love them

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