#also Iceland typo

[just-some-random-blogger]

You Were Meant To Be Mine

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Having decided he hated you when you were children for seemingly no reason, as you grew older, you made reasons for the Targaryen prince to repel you, which made for the most uncomfortable of atmospheres. Now that you were of age and seemingly so keen to be betrothed, your archnemesis makes it his mission to ruin your plans.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem reader, you have brothers who have names ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, enemies to lovers themes, fluff, a bit violent, insufferable!Daemon, typos etc.

A/N: This is inspired by this prompt and a bit by the song from Heathers 'meant to be yours' and it honestly came out flufflier than expected. I made a fake house ok i literally just used the icelandic translation of star T_T

also I MADE AN ENTIRELY SEPARATE 10k daemon fic... do you wanna see?

psa: i did some edits on this since posting it

"Congratu-fucking-lations," I slur, feeling my entire face heat up as I smile. The lady Gemma, who I was greeting, turns about, looking for whom spoke to her, yet finding that I was crouched down, flailing my head and arms for sport.

She makes a face, "Lady Stjarna?"

I still in my actions, then perk up, shaking my head, breaking into another smile, "yes?" I inquire, then break into a laugh, "oh yes," I clap my hands together when I remember why I was standing in front of the bride, "My Lady Gemma, I am so pleased that you have finally found a match. You and your lord husband will surely-" I hiccup and slightly burp, "- make an army of beautiful children."

Gemma, my childhood friend, who had not regarded me in the longest of time and only came to invite me last minute because one of my brothers got promoted again, made a disturbed face with wide eyes, "where is your brother?"

"Why?" I pull an annoyed pout, "do you fancy him still?"

Gemma, who was standing right next to her sister-in-law, Carolina, who was too my childhood friend, but decided along the way she also did not like me, begins to twitch.

I sigh, grabbing the cup from Carolina's hand, downing its contents. Once my mouth is empty, I hand the cup back to its original owner, "glad am I that neither my older brothers, Johann nor Gunnar, not even our youngest, Ari, found any interest in you at all."

I hear the sound of the devil's muffled laughter in my head.

"You insolent wench," Carolina mutters under her breath, thinking it was soft enough for only her and her new sister to hear.

I smile wickedly, "may your womb be bountiful and may your house prosper." With a final curtsy, I turn about and walk away.

I manage to walk far enough to catch sight of the banquet table. Before I could pour myself a glass of wine again, quickly, a hand swoops in, pulling me by my shoulder, and I am faced with a face that makes my day more bothersome than it already is. It is my youngest brother, Ari, brows curled in concern. With his free hand, he takes mine as he leads me into a dance against my own will. He jests too strongly, too early, "and you wonder why so many detest your effervescent aura, sister."

I give him a pinched look as I stomp my heel in front of me in an attempt to crush his foot. Being too used to it, he quickly pulls his leg away and clicks his tongue, pulling me close to push me back into a twirl, "you have drank too much, too early."

Once I am before the young lad again, I give him a look, "when has that stopped father?"

He sighs, "you are not father, you are you, a Lady of the house Stjarna."

"I'm trying hard not to be," I grumble, beginning to circle around my brother in continuance of the dance, "as is father, Johann, Gunnar, our cousins, even our servants!" I look off in the distance as I speak, looking for the face of my father, feeling my heart skip a beat when I see him and our eldest brother Johann, conversing with the Lannisters.

Once I am in front of Ari again, my face is beaming, and it causes him greater concern.

"Father talking to the Lannisters," I tell him breathlessly, "they could be talking about my marriage prospects."

Ari's forehead tenses even more, lips curving into a frown, "does that notion truly bring you joy?"

I roll my eyes at him as we press our hands together to the beat of the music, "it does. As it should you! An alliance with house Lannister will mean you can rise in the ranks quickly to join our older brothers."

Ari is visibly troubled by this.

I clench my jaw at his expression and halt in my movements. I decide our dance is over, promptly pulling him aside. Once we are alone far enough from the dance floor, I mumble to him, "you will not understand until you are in the crosshairs of fate and you've had to raise your younger brother because your mother was killed in the cloak of night."

Ari grips my arm as we make it to the side of the room, "and I am grateful for it, for everything you and everyone has done for me! But I am not a child anymore, and I do not wish to see you wed a scoundrel for my benefit," he whines, voice growing softer but more frustrated with every word.

"That scoundrel of which you speak, is the richest man here," I mutter under my breath, "and it would do you good to-"

"Conspiring again, are we?"

The unmistakable voice rings in my ear, and though my younger brother hastily turns to whom spoke, quickly greeting him with a bow and, "your grace," I forfeit the pleasantries and keep my eyes fixed on my brother.

Once Ari is facing me again, I place a hand on his shoulder and give him a half sympathetic look, "there is nothing in the world I would not do for you, for our family. My heart beats only for the glory and survival of our house."

"But you don't-"

"And I am doing this precisely so that you would not have to sacrifice your own dreams for the same thing," I give him a pointed look and place both my hands on his cheeks, "do you understand, Ari?"

My brother averts his gaze, unable to meet mine. I release him and gently nudge him back, "now go dance and make merry. It is your privilege."

Ari sighs, bowing his head in acceptance. He then turns to the side, bidding farewell again to the man who had been standing there for gods-know-what, "my prince."

I watch as Ari fades into the crowd, still unwilling to look the said prince beside me in the eye, lest I hurl out my insides.

"What dutiful sister you are. I bet many bachelors are even willing to slay a dragon for your hand."

I let out a prolonged hum in a failed attempt to calm myself down, "why would they need to fight a dragon, pray tell, when I have nothing to do with them?"

I finally look at him, Prince Daemon, with his long silver-white hair, violet eyes, and ghastly annoying curved lips. I respond to his smirk with a stoic look and move to walk past him. He, however, in his good old fashioned pettiness, speaks in a volume too loud, "will you not even greet your prince?" practically forcing me to stop, lest I give these wenches more reason to whisper about me.

I turn about with not a hitch and curtsy, dramatically, impossibly low, and I even flash the realest fake smile I reserve especially for fuckers like him, "my beloved Prince Daemon."

The Demon is pleased by this and by how many people are watching in this moment.

I rise after a good moment passed, knowing by then a lot less eyes were onlooking. I step forward, looking up at the idiot, thinking of exactly what will wipe that smirk off his face, "heir to the iron-- oh," I look away, pretending to think, "apologies, what were you heir of again?"

Daemon eyes darken and yet he does not forfeit a laugh. He masks his annoyance in this, but I know him too well to miss how his jaw clenches. It is finally then that I turn away from him and head outside the blasted banquet hall.

I silently pass a few servants of the house and bring myself outside the building. I make my way to the gardens of the estate, surprising even myself with how I still knew place well even after the years that have passed since I last visited.

My mind begins to spiral, in thoughts most uninvited, like, why Lady Gemma, and the rest of whom I believed to be my friends, began to simply stop thinking of me as such.

I wonder if it was when I became motherless and began to prioritize teaching my baby brother at the age of 11. I sigh, wrapping my arms around myself at the thought. No matter how much I try to understand, I just don't. What changed in me that made them turn away?

Through my deep thought, I was still very much aware of my surroundings. It doesn't take long for me to feel the presence that was lingering behind me, the persistent thorn to my side that just refused to be plucked off. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was by my heels, and yet I do. I throw my skirt around me and glare knowingly at the prince who was a mere few steps away from me, "must you persist even now when no one is looking?"

"It is most exhilarating to hunt in the intimacy of an empty forest, knowing no one can interfere no matter the outcome." Daemon did not cease in his steps as he said this, and continued walking towards me, up until there was nowhere to step, and yet he pressed closer still.

I knit my brows tightly at his attempt to push me back and I place my hands on his arms forcing him the other way.

"You're supposed to step back if a man does this to you," he states.

"I will step back for no man," I grunt, successfully shoving him off me, not having moved an inch from where I stood.

Daemon reels back, only slightly, but it matters not, for he was still pushed away. He chuckles at this and tilts his head, "your strength is impressive. You have not wavered since we were children."

I roll my eyes and turn from him, continuing my walk.

The insolent Targaryen invites himself to walk to my right. I know it is pointless to argue with him about it, so I decide to ignore him instead.

"I hear you were invited to the Strong's estate recently."

I do not waste my breath with a response.

"And yet I saw your father and your brother with Jason Lannister moments before I saw your horrid face."

Daemon is not granted the satisfaction of a reply, which is why he resorts to saying, "you must have been too overbearing with your new match that your father had to quickly look for a newer one."

I am unaffected by his words, but I still choose to turn over to him, "my father is not nearly as quick about me as you are, however."

He smirks at that, placing his hands behind his back, "if I didn't know any better, you sound like you think I care for you."

"Well, obviously you do," I snap at him, "or else you would not be accompanying me in this dark deserted garden, warning me to back away if men decide to lay their hands on me."

Daemon makes a face, "you should not allow any man's hand upon you," he quips.

"None but you?!" I blurt, stopping beside him, then stomping over, "I am so sick of your arrogance! I even decided to be the bigger person between us, and yet you persist on sabotaging me, to make spectacle of my existence and force my suitors away."

For a moment, Daemon basks in the fire, absolutely in awe of it.

My rage is continuously fueled by his entertained expression, "I know for certain it was you who injured Sir Armand on his travel to our estate, and you who sabotaged the travels of house Frey to our region."

I half expect him to egg me on, to feign ignorance, and yet he says nothing.

"I don't understand what sick sense of fulfillment you earn from this, but you need to stop it and focus on destroying your own prospects."

The sound of his laugh enrages me even more, "you should be pleased I've done you a favor of allowing better suitors to come forward, or else you would have readily settled for a pig with but an acre of land."

I shudder, hands balling into fists, "so you don't even deny further, you insolent twat!"

"My detest for you was never a secret to start, my sweetheart" he breathes out hotly, a dragon baring its teeth, face uncomfortably near mine.

"You stupid fucker!" I blurt, managing to land a slap on his face and a hit on his chest before he finally caught my flailing arms and growled at me in warning. I am not intimidated in the slightest, not even with his nose nearly brushing mine, not even when both our hot breath was hitting each other's skin.

Though I am perfectly aware I am no match for his strength, considering how I am basically locked in place under his tight grip, I refuse to relent. He could kill me if he wanted, I honestly wouldn't care, for then, at least, I would not have to deal with him any further.

This is why I shout right at him without a second's thought, "I'VE ABOUT HAD IT WITH YOUR TOMFOOLERY!" I wrangle in his grips in an attempt to break free, "I would curse you never to marry and die an old lonely man, but I'm sure you would want that," my chest begins to tighten, "for there is no shame in you choosing to die a bachelor, yet it is a mortal sin of mine to even breathe the air my age without baring children!"

My face begins to crack out of anger and tears begin to build in the corner of my eyes the more I speak, "I am a shame to my house," I bark, as Daemon's grip tightens around me to further cease my violence, "to my father, to my brothers, to my dead mother especially, for living this long as a maiden! And you feel no remorse for me for you a man, a prince, born to be pacified, lest they wish to end up as dinner for your overgrown lizard!"

I can no longer withhold the tears from my eyes as I remember what happened to my beloved cousin who was unable to marry. She was far fairer than me, far kinder, and yet no one would have her over rumors planted by our rival house that she was impure.

I break into a sob. Daemon slips into bewilderment. He begins to panic, unaccustomed to this emotion. His grip on me begins to loosen. It was his mistake. I take the opportunity to knee him in the groin and shove him off me.

I watch him crumble. I nearly smile and think to bask in his suffering.

Once he is crouched in the ground, moaning in his pathetic pain, I wipe my tears and angrily spit out one last time, "make no mistake. I care not if you are prince or king. You will not stand in my way."

Daemon watches as I walk away.

Days have passed since the wedding and my most unsavory encounter with the royal idiot.

I was in much brighter moods as of late, since I was met with more options than ever over whom I could marry. In his own delight, my father decided to host a tourney in our estate. Houses of far and wide were invited to come, and just in his thick-faced fashion, the Prince Daemon decided to attend in honor of his house Targaryen.

I had begged my father not to invite him, but he would not risk shunning the crown over it. My father did make it a point to have my brothers distract the vermin, knowing too well his volatile tendencies when he is around me. It made for but a peaceful half hour for me since the time he got here.

It was too quickly he managed himself out of Johann and Gunnar's company and so rudely uninvited to mine.

The moment I saw him coming towards me from across the stand, I mentally prepared for the hell he was about to unleash, and asked the man I was conversing with to take his leave.

"What do you want?" I airily growl at Daemon once he gets close enough.

Unbothered, completely amused, and seemingly relieved, he releases a sigh, as he watches my latest proposition walk off behind me, "you seem completely out of luck, so I decided to rub on some of my own on you," Daemon started, hand darting over, gently caressing the skin down my arm causing goosebumps to ride around me.

I pull away and rub the area roughly in disgust. I turn to him, not liking the solemn expression he held, "what's it going to take for you to leave me alone, Daemon?"

He barely manages to hold in the quirking of the corner of his lips at the familiarity, the sheer impertinence of it all, "it's as though you are unaware it is my favorite sport to vex and rile you up," he licks his lips slowly and leans in to whisper, "you wouldn't want me to tell everyone about how we roughly spent the night alone in the garden, now would you."

I heave as he pulls away, lips in a lopsided smile.

I do not manage a retort, as suddenly I hear the trumpets sound, followed by an announcement, "Sir Ari of house Stjarna has challenged Sir Jason of house Lannister!"

I feel my heart leap to my throat. My jaw drops and my hands instantly sweat. Why would Ari do such a reckless thing when he barely even could go against me in a fight? He was too unconfrontational for this.

The prince watches my expression, but I could not care less about him in this moment more than ever.

The guests, who were preoccupied with other festivities, quickly make way to watch the show. I quickly make my way to my father, in hopes to stop this ridiculous match. I push past Daemon, uncaring that I shoved him in the process and hurriedly comb through the crowds. I move as quick as I could and yet once I find my father's face from across the sea of people, it is far too late. The sound of restless, chuffing horses fill my ears and the crowd cheers as the beasts whine in anticipation.

My heart races, "ARI! ARI!" I call from the side, practically begging, using all of my energy into my screams. It is pointless though as the crowd is too loud for anything to be distinguished and it seems my brother is wholly immersed in the game, face tense and distressed.

I look between Ari and his opponent, feeling my insides churn at the Lannister's dark grin.

The cue is given, and soon the two order their horses to run and go at it with each other. I rip my fingers through my hair.

Jason allows my brother the courtesy of the first blow and did not even move his lance to Ari. Ari manages to hit him and the crowd cheers, but having watched far too many tourneys in my time, I know that would not be enough to beat his opponent. The second time around when the two gallop towards each other, Jason is not so kind and hits my brother right in the chest, causing the wooden beam to break into a millions pieces.

"ARI!"

Ari has not fallen yet though, and foolishly rides once more, coming around the third time. I do not see what happens next however, for I'm making my off the stand to run to the players. I do freeze a moment when the crowd goes wild and suddenly the trumpets sound again, along with the announcement, "The winner is house Lannister!"

The next thing I know, I am on the playing ground running over to my fallen brother who was writhing on the dirt. Our servants are upon him, gathering his unconscious body up to be moved away and tended to.

I barely even get in front of my brother when a horse gallops beside me, then in front, effectively blocking my path.

Jason Lannister looks down at me, ripping his helm off, offering me a perverted smile, "do not be distraught, my lady, it was only a game, and I swear to you I have not gravely injured your brother."

I shudder at the sound of his voice, feeling my cheeks grow cold, only now realizing it was due to my tears wetting them. My insides however were burning in anger. Seeing him look down on me like this made me want to do nothing more than to shove him off his high horse. I could not show it though, not to him, not in front of everyone and my many other present suitors.

Jason's lips curve, "I do hope it would not be cruel of me to request your favor, my lady."

I sniffle, releasing a breath before choking out, "not at all." I turn over my shoulder and shout, "hand me a wreath!"

A servant runs up to me a moment too long in my taste, as I had to stare at Jason Lannister's face the whole duration.

I hand him the wreath, which he plainly gets and keeps on his wrist. I offer him a quick curtsy and he nods before galloping off, enticing the cheers of everyone. He basks in his phony glory as I take to the sidelines where I began to look for my brother. It does not take a lot for me to see him laid on a makeshift bed with our family maester attending to him.

"Ari!" I exclaim the very moment, running over to him, falling into a fit of sobs.

"Worry not, my lady," the maester speaks, as he wipes my brother's face, "Lord Jason's words hold true. He did not severely injure young master Ari."

I break into a choke, crumpling down on the floor by my younger brother's side, gripping his leg in anguish. I groan in distress, "how could you be foolish enough to challenge someone?! And Jason Lannister of all people?!"

My unconscious brother, of course, does not respond, but one of my servants do, "pardon my brazenness, my lady, but I do believe sir Ari did so because of how that... Lannister heir spoke lowly of you."

I turn to my servant and look at her in expectance, "what did he say?"

Before she could reply, the trumpets sound again, and there is an announcement, "Prince Daemon of house Targaryen has challenged Lord Jason of house Lannister!"

I perk up at the sound of that and rise from where I was, walking to my servant, "what did he say about me?"

She sighs and looks away, "he said he was doing a you a favor by marrying you, although everyone knows you would make an impertinent wife."

There is a a loud crashing sound, followed by the cheers of the crowd.

"The winner is house Targaryen!"

I look out to the playing ground and find Daemon, clad in his arrogance and his armor, mounted on a horse trotting over to me. I spare a glance at his fallen opponent, Jason Lannister, who looked far worse than my brother had, yet feeling no remorse for him.

I look up at the prince once he is finally upon me. If I hadn't known any better, he looked distracted by my tear stained face, and so I do the talking, "do you require my favor as well, my lord?"

Daemon eyes flicker up and down me. He steals a look past me, seeing my unconscious brother, then decides to ignore me, turning his horse around, trotting to the direction of my father, "Lord of house Stjarna."

My father watches the rider come closer.

The prince continues, "you held this tourney in celebration of your fair daughter's many marriage proposals, and yet your son has been left injured by a man who wishes to marry her."

Daemon's gaze falls back on me, his horse continues to gallop back and forth in restlessness, "I request that you withdraw the Lannister," he starts, turning back to my father, "my losing opponent, from her list of suitors for this reason."

I knit my brows at that, feeling an inexplicable feeling rise within me.

My father stares at him for a moment, debating the gravity of his words, before replying, "my son knew what he was getting into. Tis but a game played in good spirits. I hold not my son's loss to Sir Jason, nor should he hold his loss to you."

"Well, if you cannot remove him for that reason," the prince raises his face up proudly, "remove him as my request as a winner of your tourney."

Johann, who was now behind my father begins to mutter something behind him. My father raises a hand to my brother, then releases a breath before asking, "and why would you request this, if I may so inquire, prince Daemon?"

"Because it is my understanding Sir Jason is her strongest prospect, and I should like to be her main suitor instead," he responds, making the crowd erupt into hushed whispers.

My father lets out an incredulous laugh. Johann, behind him, looks down at the prince, brows raising the way it does in times where I begin to anger him. My father however cuts himself off when he sees the serious expression on Daemon's face, "pardon me, your grace, but you have never shown any interest in my daughter before. One would even think you do not take kindly to her."

"No, I don't, do I?" he mutters, chuckling himself, "yet you of all people know about the disruptions of her previous proposals, disruptions, you have been aware of for a long time, that I have caused-- at first due to my boredom."

My father's face hardens.

Daemon face contorts into a smirk, "I've only realized myself why I have been so adamant about causing your daughter trouble," he turns his horse over to me, catching my eyes, "very much recently."

The crowd is bustling at the notion, eating up the Prince's words like roast beef.

"When, if I dare so ask, did you realize this, my prince?"

"During Lady Gemma's wedding," Daemon turns his horse around, "when I accompanied your daughter to the gardens," he looks back up to my father, "and we roughly spent time alone in the cover of night."

Instantly, a chorus of gasps fill the air.

That fucking piece of Targaryen shit.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon

[therealvinelle]

Hi, I was rereading AFTHOTWTL and noticed this <<“I told her he didn’t have her best interests at heart,” Edward told him darkly, “and to stay away. I’ll translate Lille Eyolf for her, I know enough Danish.>>

Is this a typo, or does Edward’s seriously not notice the difference between Danish and Norwegian? LOL

(Anon is referring to mine and @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin's cowritten fic A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to London)

Norwegian and Danish are mutually intelligible, to the point where I sometimes do a double take, "ohh it was Danish, that's why it felt weird". More, due to Norway not having our own written language until the 19th century, we were all writing Danish anyway. In the 19th century we were still writing Danish, but by then nationalists wanted to either Norwegianify it or else construct an entirely new written language based on certain dialects (this lead to the creation of New Norwegian).

The result was still mutually intelligible with Danish, and our languages remain mutually intelligible to this day. (More so in writing, as I for one just have to smile and nod when Danes talk to me.)

Edward was perfectly within his rights when he said he could read Lille Eyolf.

(For what it's worth, yes, Swedish is also mutually intelligible with Danish and Norwegian, Icelandic and Faroese, not so much, as they have continued speaking the language spoken by the original Norwegian settlers.

Here is a fun site for you if you want to compare languages, as it has compiled every available translation of various Norse texts.)

#norwegian #norwegian things #danish #scandinavian things #a funny thing happened on the way to london #my fic #the carnivorous muffin fic #the carnivorous muffin #fic meta #heimskringla

[focsle]

Oh Hai, I am going to Svalbard and thence on a ship into the ice - can you talk to me about whaling on the ice? I remember there were whaling stations in Greenland and possibly Iceland as well, where whales were brought be smaller ships for rendering, but that was never a big New England practice?

Oh, sounds chilly! I hope the excursion is all you wish for. Sorry for the incredibly long post--it got away from me! This is how I spent my evening! Sorry for any typos; it’s near 1 am.

Shore whaling isn't my forte so I can't speak much to that. There were whaling settlements set up on places like Herschel Island to support the industry as it stretched into the Arctic, though that's not quite the same as shore whaling stations. There were some 20th century ones up in the Arctic too, but again, not my forte.

I can talk about whaling on the ice, though. After 1848 when the commercial whaling fleet learned of bowheads, it pushed northwards in pursuit of them as the old whaling grounds were increasingly overfished.

A struck bowhead whale drawn by Captain Benjamin Boodry.

An anonymous letter published in the Quaker newspaper The Friend in 1850, written from the perspective of a Bowhead whale, offered up a rare perspective in opposition to the industry at this time:

“Although our situation, and that of our neighbors in the Arctic is remote from our enemy’s country, yet we have been knowing to the progress of affairs in the Japan and Ochotsk seas, the Atlantic and Indian oceans, and all the other “whaling grounds”. We have imagined that we were safe in these cold regions; but no; within these last two years a furious attack has been made upon us, an attack more deadly and bloody than any of our race ever experienced in any part of the world. I scorn to speak of the cruelty that has been practiced by our blood-thirsty enemies, armed with harpoon and lance; no age or sex has been spared.”

The expansion was both a detriment to the whales and a detriment to the men who hunted them. Many whalers were ill-prepared for the colder conditions, with often inadequate outfits purchased from the ship’s slop chest. Cases of scurvy (and death from such) increased significantly as months were spent in regions where the resupply of fresh produce wasn’t possible as it was in the South Pacific. The US Consul in Honolulu frequently commented on the condition of the men filling their hospital from a season up North, describing whalers who “died after reaching port and before they could be landed, while others were carried to the hospital on litters, being too feeble to walk.”

The whaling Bark Samboul, 1886. Via New Bedford Whaling Museum.

It also could be a psychologically bleak time as well. Allen Newman, captain of the Covington (1852-55, and 56-59) wrote:

“All this day a strong gale from the East with thick rainy weather, this is hard if I was alone I think I should be tempted to some rash act, such as Murder or Suicide, but I am surrounded with A plenty as poor as myself, misery loves company.”

Later he wished for all the things he couldn't have access to while bound up in fog and ice.

“hard gale from the North with cold Weather & A Bad Sea such is life on the Ocean. I Wish myself at Home with my Wife & Children, seated by A good fire & eating apples or I would willingly go Without the apples to be there O Lord watch over us keep us in health & give us Prosperity as the years rool round.. I hope to find myself with my family on some May morning & enjoying all the Blessings of A Happy Home.”

Benjamin Boodry, 2nd mate of the Arnolda (1852-55) also missed home after a failed attempt to catch Bowheads.

“Saw B[ow]Heads lowered without success chased all day came on board hungry and I am unhappy as a dog and homesick discontented wish I was at home I’d give all that I have got in the ship and run the risk of going naked or starving to death”

It wasn’t all misery, however. William Stetson, cabin-boy-to-foremast-hand on the Arab (1853-57) talked about some of the fun they had, too.

“We saw several bowheads but could get no where near them, and then all three boats penetrated farther into the ice, our boats crew all got out on a large cake of ice which was covered with snow, and enjoyed a little game of snow ball. To set foot anywhere out of the ship or boat soon on an ice cake in the Kamtschatka sea is very agreeable for a change; we enjoy ourselves among the ice, chasing seals and birds, snow balling, &c.”

Bowheads, with their battering ram heads designed to break through thick ice, knew their world far better than the new predators that just entered into it. In all instances, when pursued, they would make their escape attempt by running under the ice.

“Our officers were not very anxious to tackle them in the ice, as it needs an expert whaleman to handle them there,” wrote Albert Peck, greenhand on the Covington, the same voyage in which his captain was privately contemplating Murder And/Or Suicide and dreaming about home and hearths and apples. “As soon as one is struck he instantly makes for the compact ice and if he runs under, they are obliged to give him line til they can get the boat clear, and it often happens that before the boat can be cleared the line is gone, it being useless to try to hold it. Sometimes when he is running and they are holding on to the line [...] it will strike with its full force against a cake of ice, and if not very large and struck fairly with her stern, it will split and the boat will go between the pieces, but if not struck fairly then wo[e] to the boat. Often times the line will be cut or chaffed off against the ice, and then farewell Mr. Whale.”

Whaling wife Mary Lawrence on board the Addison (1856-60) described such a hunt, and the improvising whalers did when a whale ran under the ice. 

“Our boats had not been down more than ten minutes before the whale came up between our bow boat and a boat from another ship. They both started for him, but our boat, having the best chance, struck. He ran under the ice soon after they fastened, but our brave crew were not going to give him up so, so two boats went around the other side of the ice to lance him and send him back, which they finally did after having quite an exciting time. Mr. Nickerson got out of his boat and went on to the ice to try to shoot him, while another boats crew from another ship landed and snowballed the whale, probably wounding him severely.”

The whale was ultimately killed by all this and brought alongside. 

Bark Jacob A. Howland, trying out blubber among the ice. 1887. NBWM.

Benjamin Boodry, for all his misery as a 2nd mate on the Arnolda, would find himself up in the ice again as captain on his next voyage aboard the Fanny (1856-60). In icy regions he often described whaling happening in a ‘pond hole’, meaning a section of open water amidst all the ice floes. From the safety of said pond hole, he saw the peril that came with whaling in the Arctic.

“Comes in with light gales from East ship in a pond hole boiling with the Roman [another whaleship] thick and plenty of snow and verry heavy swell at ½ past 7 came to the N side of the pond hole it lighted some saw the wreck of a vessel about 2 miles in the Ice dismasted and the ship Brutus lying by her the swell being to heavy dare not venture through the Ice as the Brutus was there to render all assistence in saveng life poor fellows I pitty them God only knows whose turn it will be next this is a dangerous way of getting an honest living at 8 saw a large light set supposed to be on board of the wreck I wonder what poor fellow it is Middle and latter part blowing spoke Capt Henry of the Brutus haveing Capt Sherman and crew of Bark Newton on board there vessel being stove in the Ice he belongs in Rochester town and has lost his wife since he sailed and now has lost his vessel take my vessel but save me my Little Mary”

Getting wrecked by ice was the greatest risk in the region. At one point the Addison found itself almost entirely bound up in ice, and Mary described the anxiety of the scene.

"The first flow of ice that came to us was not bad, quite thick but considerably broken up. After that it came on pretty bad. We were obliged to have men out on the ice cutting our way along, until we came to a field that was impossible to get through. Just then there came on a slight breeze, so that we slipped out anchor, and turning around a little, we cleared all of that except the point.  Then we put down our large anchor and drifted through the remainder, some of which was very heavy, solid field ice two miles in length. After cutting, spading, sawing, and pulling with ropes, we finally worked through the last of it about four o’clock in the morning. It was a night of hard work and anxiety. We were afraid mostly of staving our ship again. There was also danger of dragging our anchor and going ashore."

Thomas Howes Norton, captain of the whaleship the Citizen (1852), found his ship less fortunate in navigating the ice.

“Ice was all around us, which would have passed us on the larboard bow, and thus we should have escaped a concussion; but instead of doing this he put the wheel down, which brought the ship into the wind and the consequence was a large hole was stoven in her larboard bow; the ship began to leak badly. Casks were immediately filled with water, and placed on the starboard side of the ship, and thus in a measure heeled the ship, which brought the leak to a considerable extent out of the water; otherwise she must have sunk in a very little time.”

While the crew of the Citizen would patch the damage made on that instance, it wouldn’t help them for long. Their ship would be utterly destroyed in a gale in the Arctic Ocean in September 1852, with five lives lost and thirty-three men stranded ashore with little to protect them.

Wreck of the Citizen, via Library of Congress.

While stranded, those thirty-three men were assisted by the local Yupik people and lived with them for nine months before eventually being brought home by two New England whalers.

It was the Arctic that played a huge role in finishing the American whale fishery, too. In 1871, thirty-three American whaling vessels were unexpectedly bound up in pack ice off Alaska. Their collective crews (and families aboard) reflected 1219 lives suddenly plunged into mortal peril. All the captains came together and signed a statement of what they all agreed to do:

"We, the undersigned, masters of whaleships now lying at Point Belcher, after holding a meeting concerning our dreadful situation, have all come to the conclusion that our ships cannot be got out this year, and there being no harbor that we can get our vessels into, and not having provisions enough to feed our crews to exceed three months, and being in a barren country, where there is neither food nor fuel to be obtained, we feel ourselves under the painful necessity of abandoning our vessels, and trying to work our way south with our boats, and, if possible, get on board of ships that south of the ice."

They set their ensigns upside-down, took to their whaleboats, and abandoned the whole endeavor to the Arctic.

Image from Harpers Weekly 1871, of some of the whaleships bound up in ice and the crews evacuating.

Through heavy swells and ice they rowed, hoping to make it to open water where other ships from the fleet might be there to save them. It took them near 90 miles to reach the rest of the fleet, who readily brought them all aboard and returned everyone home at the expense of their own voyages. Remarkably, not a single life was lost in this event. But all but one of the trapped whaleships were crushed by the ice. With the industry already staggered by the discovery of petroleum and by losses during the Civil War when Confederate raiders made a point to target the whaling fleet, this massive loss was the final nail in the coffin for American whaling. Beyond that event, wrecking in the ice became a fate for many a whaleship in the last couple decades of the 19th century.

#asks #awhalin #dancing-crow #long post // #animal death // #ok bedtime…

[screentranscriber]

Netflix's "Exception" Episode 03 screen transcripts

I just can't stop now, can I. Especially when there's so much curious goodness to find!

Nina ponders reprinting Lewis. Good, good.

Misprint tapping at the keypad, the first image that made me jump into this rabbit hole. Too bad there's nonsense on the bottom panel.

Oscar's phone initially contains nonsense. Also, why anonymous?

"Seenina", and Mislewis is typing from the past.

Oscar catches the phone with the new message already on it, nice.

Mislewis, please learn to type. "Whith"?

Bah, they both need typing lessons... Or wait, Oscar is using speech-to-text, so why are there typos in HIS messages? And, sadly, timestamps never change.

Oh, this is a good one. Cryo pod inspection, although it's flipped in the actual footage. Never mind the typos, it tried to make sense, so why the nonsense in the middle?

More messages, more bad voice recognition.

"Jave", and Mislewis is typing from even deeper past. The hour on the phone hasn't changed from 12:34, of course.

Mislewis is consistently in 12:30, and "needs" two authorizations, make a note here, please!

Mislewis is holding onto Nina's phone here, still stuck on that message.

A-ha, "need" two authorizations here. Why not copy and paste? And now the timestamps don't match.

Polar cap analysis, sadly, nonsense.

Or is it? We have Iceland here!

This one is a treasure trove of typos and errors. Never mind the "sattelite" and "unabble" - I'm more fascinated by "caeck", with "a" being nowhere near "h" on a keyboard, but very similar in this font.

More nonsense, sorry.

There's a lot of "scaning" going on here, but it's a surprisingly good display, minus the nonsense in the corner. There's even RAM, swap and pages shown, for some reason!

Phew. Three down, five to go! Next up:

#netflix #exception #scifi #user interface #geek

[dubaivisasolutions]

Exploring the Schengen Visa Requirements from Dubai: Documents and Eligibility

The Schengen visa is a document that gives you the right to visit the Schengen zone for tourism, business, medical, and cultural purposes for a short period of time. The best part about the Schengen visa is that with one visa, you can visit 27 European countries in the Schengen zone, which include Austria, Germany, Finland, Netherlands, Switzerland, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, France, Iceland, Greece, Italy, Luxembourg, Lithuania, Belgium, Spain, Hungary, Poland, Estonia, Latvia, Czech Republic, Croatia, Slovakia, Liechtenstein, Portugal, Slovenia, and Malta. Both citizens and residents of Dubai love to visit the Schengen area because there is good flight connectivity between Dubai and the Schengen countries. But before you plan your itinerary and pack your bags, you must know about the Schengen visa.

Schengen Visa Requirements: Eligibility

If you are planning to visit one or more of the Schengen countries, you have to know whether you are eligible to get a Schengen visa. The citizens of UAE are eligible for visa on arrival. In other words, they will get a visa stamp after entering the Schengen country. Similarly, expats who are from Schengen visa exempt countries can also get a visa on arrival in any of the Schengen countries. Following are the categories of people who need to apply for Schengen visa from Dubai before flying to the country:

Expats who do not belong to Schengen visa-exempt countries

UAE citizens who have been denied a visa on arrival in the past

Citizens of visa-exempt countries who have been denied visas on arrival in the past.

Schengen Visa Requirements: Documents

Anyone who wants to apply for a Schengen visa Dubai has to submit a list of documents. Although the documents you need to submit may depend on the purpose of your visit, some documents are common to everyone applying for the Schengen visa. Here is a detailed list of the documents required to apply for a Schengen visa from Dubai:

Schengen Visa Application Form: The first and most important document you must submit while applying for a Schengen visa is the application form. The visa application form has 37 questions, which include personal information, travel information, invitation information, and date and signature. It is crucial to fill in the entire form completely and correctly. There should not be any false information, either factual or typo. One must remember that untrue information can lead to rejecting your visa application. For minors, the form must be signed by parents or legal guardians.

Passport: The next important document you must submit along with your visa application form is your passport. Ensure that your passport has a minimum of three months validity from the date of returning from the Schengen country. Moreover, passports over 10 years old are likely to face rejection. You also have to ensure that there are at least two blank pages in your passport for the visa stamp.

Photograph: A passport-size photograph should be included with your visa application form. To ensure that your application is not rejected, you must make sure that your photograph is akin to the Schengen visa photo guidelines, which are as follows:

The photo should not be older than six months

The size of the photo should be 35 mm (width) x 45 mm (length)

80% of the photo should be your face and shoulders

The background should be plain white. There should be no patterns, shadows, or distracting objects in the background.

The photo should have proper contrast and high resolution

The expression on your face should be neutral

Your facial features should be clearly visible

Refrain from wearing headgear unless for religious purposes

It is best to wear dark-colored clothes to contrast the white background.

Proof of Finances: The visa issuing authority must know whether you have sufficient funds to support yourself in the Schengen area. For this, you will have to submit your bank statements for the past three months. You may also have to submit proof of employment and your credit card. Each Schengen country has a different requirement regarding the minimum balance in your bank account.

Cover Letter: A cover letter mentioning the purpose of your visit should also be a part of the documents you submit. Along with the reason for your visit, you must also include the date of entering and exiting the Schengen zone, your itinerary, place of accommodation, the countries you plan to visit, your employment status, etc. If you cannot submit certain documents, you can mention the reason for the same in the cover letter. The letter should be short and concise and not more than two pages.

Travel Insurance: A travel insurance plan is crucial for your Schengen visit. Your insurance should have a minimum coverage of 30,000 euros. It should cover medical expenses like doctor visits, surgery, hospitalization, emergency evacuation, and even death. Your travel insurance should be valid in all the Schengen countries.

Proof of Accommodation: You need to provide proof of the place you will be staying in during your visit to the Schengen countries. This can be a hotel reservation, rental agreement or contract, or invitation letter from a host staying in the particular country you are visiting. Confirmation from an organized holiday tour operator is also acceptable.

Paid Visa Fee: You need to pay a visa fee while submitting your Schengen visa application form. The visa fee will depend on the country you are visiting. The visa fee for adults is different from that for kids between the age of 6 and 12 years. Children under the age of 6 years do not require to pay a Schengen visa fee.

Proof of Employment Status: Depending on your work status, you must submit proof of employment, proof of student status, proof of self-employment, and proof of retirement. This could be a signed letter from an employer, a letter from a solicitor, pension statements, a student card, etc.

Flight Itinerary: The copies of your confirmed flight tickets must be included with the other supporting documents. You need to include flight details like the name of the flight, reservation number, arrival and departure, date, ticket price, airport IATA codes, connecting flight tickets, etc.

Copies of Previous Visa: If you have visited the Schengen area in the past, you need to provide proof for the same. Your documents must include all the passports with stamped Schengen visas.

While submitting the documents, you must submit both originals and copies. The original documents will be returned once the visa process is complete. Apart from the documents mentioned above, you may have to submit some additional documents, depending on the purpose of your visit. It is extremely crucial to submit all documents on time to ensure that your Schengen visa application is approved.

#schengen visa from dubai #schengen visa #europe #travel to europe

[mainssolid]

Fontstand renting font

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT FOR MAC OS

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT INSTALL

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT FULL

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT LICENSE

And it looks like this service will be a great benefit for font users and foundries alike. So the service feels like an answer of the independent labels to the offers of the big shareholder companies. The concept was developed by Peter Biľak (Typotheque) and Andrej Krátky and the foundries are a selection of the finest indie labels: Type Together, Storm Type, House Industries, Typofonderie, Commercial Type, Bold Monday and so on. It’s also interesting to see who is behind the site and which foundries take part in this service. It offers advantages over the regular web shops, but without the disadvantages of most rental services.

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT INSTALL

There are currently no custom sample texts or glyph tables, but you can install the fonts with one click and then test them in your local apps.Įven in this early stage, Fontstand is already a very convincing service. You can browse the catalog by font style, foundry or use the search function.

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT FOR MAC OS

You need to run an app on your computer to use it. At the moment it is only available for Mac OS X, but a Windows version will come later.

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT LICENSE

With this service you have the advantages of testing fonts free of charge and using them cheaply for a limited time, but you also have the benefit of getting a regular desktop font license after a year.įontstand does not use a web shop in the browser. But there is a catch: You need to permanently pay the rental fee for years to come if you want to continue using your fonts.īut that is not the case with Fontstand. You pay a fee and can use a complete library with thousands of fonts. The big players like Monotype and Adobe offer subscription models for this.

FONTSTAND RENTING FONT FULL

If you continue to use the font, it will have been paid in full after a year and you can continue to use it as a regular desktop font.įontstand solves the typical dilemma of professional font users: how can you test a font without paying for it first and without even knowing, if your client will approve of the font choice. You might be wondering if the license for these fonts allows you to use them in production work Fontstand says that rented. After that they can be rented per month for 10% of the regular retail price. After 12 months of renting a font, it’s yours to keep forever. The concept of Fontstand is pretty simple: It offers desktop fonts only, which can be tested free of charge for one hour in every app on your computer. At TYPO Berlin yet another service was announced: Fontstand.

Included some alternates: f, g, i, j, l, p, s, t, y, and g.SkyFonts, Fontslice, Typekit, Fontyou-in the last years several new concepts of font licensing emerged.

The first version comes with uppercase, lowercase, ligatures, numeral, punctuation, symbols, and Standard Latin Multilingual Support (Afrikaans, Albanian, Catalan, Danish, Dutch, English, French, German, Icelandic, Indonesian, Italian, Malay, Norwegian, Portuguese, Spanisch, Swedish, Zulu, and More).2.

The ligatures are ee, ff, gg, gg1, ii, jj, ll, ll1, mm, nn, oo, pp, ss, tt, tt1, pp, and yy.WHAT'S INCLUDED?1. You can see in the presentation picture above, The Longlight looks elegant and stylish on design projects.So, The Longlight can't wait to give its touch to all your design projects such as quotes, poster design, personal branding, promotional materials, website, logotype, product packaging, etc.Besides that, The Longlight also has some ligature that gives a surprise when you type certain characters combining. This font can be used at any time and any project. Each glyph has its own uniqueness and when meeting with others will provide dynamic and pleasing proximity. It looks original and can be used for all your project needs. This font made with the perfect combining of each character. Presenting The Longlight! An Elegant Calligraphy Font with some alternates and ligatures.

#Fontstand renting font

[darubyprincx]

anyways if i ever typo and instead of your normal standard english characters, "ð" "æ" "ö" or "þ" creep in just know that im using the icelandic keyboard for whatever god forsaken reason and couldnt be bothered to unfuck my text. this also applies to if i start typo'ing in emojis

#ray's tag

[equinesandeducation]

Wednesday the 22nd of August. Early start with the alarm going off at 6:00, running at 6:30 and studying the rest of the day. A nice break around 12:00 for riding and finished the day running some errands and cooking with the boyfriend. Great day!

#my day #about me #studyblr #studying #studyspo #todo #to do list #horses #icelandic horses #icelandic horse #mysla #also please ignore the typo please and thank you

[skirwitte]

Please remind me of this whenever I’m salty that I’ve received the majority of my education in the UK & not Hungary 😬

#also Iceland typo????! #rambles #it also explains why my parents were Like That #academic achievement first human being second 😘

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #tom holland fan fiction smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland masterlist #mob!tom x reader #dad!mob!tom holland

[artimace]

I was promised that colorwork never used more than two colors at a time. PROMISED.  BUT NO ONE WARNED ME ABOUT ICELANDIC KNITTING1111111111

#knitting #iceland #holly goes to grad school #lopapeysa #making my own while i'm here #and the chart occasionally uses three colors at a time #also #fun fact #the 1s were a legit typo but i decided to leave them that way

[a-cat-in-a-funky-hat]

S O

I've gone conspiracy theorist mode over Razzmatazz, but I'm also very tired right now so I didn't find much 😅

First of all

Of course google translate is a bit rubbish but I think we can understand the gist here. Why they wrote it in Icelandic though I have N O idea 😂

And then these things yeah

We'll have to figure these out. They did this "quiz" you could take and these were my results

So I'm sure we can come up with something the graph says 🤷🏻‍♀️

I didn't find any typos by the way. I haven't listened to anything backwards yet either, might look into that eventually 🤷🏻‍♀️ Again, I apologize it's not much yet, I'll add onto this post if I find anything more, y'all are free to tell me about your theories of course!

#midnight rambles #idkhow #idkhbtfm #i don't know how but they found me #dallon weekes #ryan seaman #razzmatazz

[svart-sjo]

tag 9 ppl you want to get to know better!

I was tagged by @hellvettia , thanks! 😊

1. Fav Colour(s): shades of blue and green maybe, but there are so many colours.. Indeed what I really love about painting is the magic of mixing all the different shades, as every now and then I'll get particularly excited by a certain hue or a new combination of different shades.

2. Currently Reading: "Det skyggene begynner" by Rannveig Leite Molven. (some postapocalyptical novel.. don't know if I like it yet, as I've just started reading and the story unfolds slowly.. the rather poetic language is definitely unique though)

3. Last Song: "Juhlat" by Puhelinseksi (won't mention their great album, because I'd taint it with one typo at least..)

4. Last Series: The Icelandic series Katla.. well, I recommend :P

5. Last Movie: These days I'm rewatching the Harry Potter movies with my sister. Yesterday we played "Goblet of Fire".

6. Sweet, Savory, or Spicy: atm I'm not hungry... and I can't make any generalisations here..

7. Craving: the sea, live concerts, sitting together with friends laughing and playing cool music, idk

8. Currently Working On: stuff for my studies, myself and art (Using #in progress I've already shown most of the art stuff I'm working on. This blog is also a kind of"art diary" to compare the past with the present and thereby motivate myself xP )

Well, actually I'd like to get to know all of you, followers of this blog. So instead of tagging 9 ppl I tagg you all.. just do it if you want to and tagg me so that I can see it :)

[whilereadingandwalking]

V.E. Schwab, Marlon James, and Alice Sola Kim in Conversation: On Craft, Rejection, and Addie Larue

“I feel like I’m an 85-year-old man, I drink whiskey, do puzzles, and stand on my lawn thinking, that car’s going too fast...” said author V.E. Schwab on Monday night, just a few minutes after telling listeners that she was 33, at the cusp of sheer terror of the amount of time that’s passing, and that she often feels like she would make a deal with the devil that Addie Larue does in her newest novel—just to have more time.

Listeners would have loved more time with authors V.E. Schwab, Marlon James, and Alice Sola Kim, all of whom gathered tonight in an event hosted by Blue Willow Books to celebrate the release of Schwab’s newest fantasy standalone, The Invisible Life of Addie Larue.

No Right Way to Write

Schwab’s favorite parts of writing are the beginning and the end—for her, the middle is where the novel "feels like it’s spinning out of my control”—likening it to a tree pushing its roots out from the gravel. She’s a planner, and she fears losing the ‘perfection’ of the ideas as she creates. But she always knows the ending: in all of her novels, the ending as she originally conceives it has never changed.

Kim usually prefers the middle, but she has recently shifted from short stories to writing a novel, and admits that with her short stories, the amount of effort from conception to completion was much shorter. She’s finding that the main difference is “the fact that you can’t keep all of it in your head at all times.”

James’s least favorite part is beginning his stories. “I’m a pretty sloppy writer, so chances are the page 1 you read in my book is page 102,” he said, and shared that page 1 in Black Leopard, Red Wolf is actually page 580. He likes the middle for the same reason Schwab fears it: it’s when the characters get to the point “where they become people and stop listening to me.” Like real people, who can surprise and disappoint you, they take over—he admits that in The Book of Night Women, James fought the protagonist the entire way to the end.

How Not to Quit

The three authors all agreed to one thing: quitting is easy, and so young authors have to stay persistent. Kim's primary advice was to “just keep reading” throughout the process—"to keep the passion alive, keep you thinking, and keep reminding you that you love literature.” She also recommending connecting yourself with other young writers trying to make it, in order to feel less alone.

“Everything I do while writing,” Schwab says, “is resisting the urge to bin the project and move to Iceland and raise goats.” What gets her through is often the ending, and finding a conclusion that excites her, that she wants to reach. It takes “the desert, and makes it a football field. It’s still a lot to cross, but the end is visible.” She urged young writers not to fear rejection. “Rejection will be your companion hand-in-hand throughout this journey,” she said. “Take rejection as a cost of participation: the only way to avoid rejection is not to try.”

James agreed. His advice: “Believe in yourself, because if you’re a writer, you’re going to come across that moment where you are the only one who does. I didn’t pass that test.” He recalls erasing all traces of an early novel—even taking his friends’ computers to make sure the document wasn’t there—and giving up on being a writer, until one mentor demanded he find it and get it to her. He found it in an outbox somewhere, and sent it to her, accidentally lopping off the first and last 20 pages. It would eventually be published.

On Addie Larue

It took Schwab ten years to write The Invisible Life of Addie Larue. Patience has never been a virtue of hers—she has a tattoo with a typo in it from when she was 19—but she’s worked to improve that, and she hasn’t gotten the typo corrected, as a sort of reminder to herself to slow down.

But part of what held her back with Addie is how she pictures writing, and the pressure that put on her ability to put it to paper. Schwab’s idea stage is discovering this orb of light, this “beautiful thing that is just mine but that nobody else can touch"—and she pictures writing as throwing that orb against a wall, breaking it into a million pieces and revising as trying to piece it back together. In other words, the final product will never match the original, glowing idea in her head.

So in Schab’s mind, she knew she would only get one shot with Addie, and she was scared and protective of the idea as a result. But ultimately, eight years after she’d gotten the idea, at the age of 33, it hit her: “Oh my god, I’m going to die without writing this book.” She quickly decided, “I would rather write it wrong than not write it at all,” and she’s happy to report that of all her projects, of all her books, “This one comes closest to the glass orb inside my head.”

At first, Schwab was terrified about Addie coming out during such a difficult year. But now, she’s glad. “It is a book about stubborn hope and defiant joy,” she said—a book about a woman willing to live through anything in hope of a better tomorrow. That’s a book that’s perfectly built for 2020.

#v.e. schwab #the invisible life of addie larue #marlon james #black leopard red wolf #alice sola kim #book events #all mine

[pikachuprojects]

In this picture my bedroom looks unbearably dark but the scale of my yarn stash looks completely reasonable, which is reassuring. In fairness, this picture doesn’t show most of my WIPs, just a slate grey ripple bralette (top, middle, barely visible) and the sleeve of a wave-stitch V-neck that I’m making from an 80s Vogue Knitting book.

I ordered some sock yarn from Indie Yarn Club and because my order was delayed, I was sent a free sample of merino DK - the little twisted hank with blue and green specks. I thought that was a really kind gesture and I’m going to use it in a pattern from Hilary Grant’s Knitting From The North* - the “Icelandic Jumper” which is a terrible name because guess what? It’s very difficult to search for other knitters’ projects. The main yarn I’m going to use for that jumper is a navy Bergére wool/synthetic mix which I have knitted two different projects with and frogged both times.

The two beige-gold balls are the Indie Yarn Club sock yarn. There’s also some Wool And The Gang Shiny Happy Cotton and some of that organic cotton that was incredibly affordable at Hobbycraft last summer and sold out rapidly so that I had to buy it in lilac. I really like the ripple bralette pattern (I have knitted it before and messed it up but I think I just have a confusing bust size) so I might purchase a pattern for a looser fitting cropped vest from the same designer.

What else? I find the rosa pomar yarns incredibly nice and the labels super cute. There’s also lots of wool that I’ve just been lugging around for ages and have no memory anymore of where it came from (other than in the broadest possible sense: Birmingham and Bristol). After getting super into sock knitting in winter lockdown I’m excited to use up my smallest scraps on socks and mittens with interesting fair isle.

Oh yeah: the tiniest scraps that I could still use in a project are in the jar, half cropped out of the frame, that originally held chipotle salsa.

* Not a mind-blowing book (and the amazon reviews suggest its riddled with crucial typos) but I picked it up for about £5 at a budget book shop (think The Works but not The Works) and I'm probably going to experiment with scrap yarn anyway so I won’t suffer too badly from those errors. 

#works in progress #knitting

[alangdorf]

About the pronunciation of Vor

Okay, so it’s a little complicated.

In Japanese, her name is written ヴェル, pronounced “Veru”, which led a lot of people who saw the Japanese announcements first (including me) to believe that her name was Ver, most likely a nickname for Verðandi, the name of a Norse goddess and one of the three Norns (along with Urd and Skuld). But the English spelling is Vor, which is also the name of a Norse goddess, but a completely different one. I was pretty sure there was a typo somewhere but I did some research on how Vor (the goddess) is pronounced. The original Nordic spelling is Vǫr, with the ǫ pronounced like a regular long o (so yeah, it sounds like “vore”). The name for the goddess in modern Icelandic, however, is Vör, with the ö pronounced kinda like a French eu. Japanese only has five vowels so I believe they transliterated this pronunciation into ヴェル with a short e because it was closer than ヴォル with a long o. Since the English spelling is Vor instead of Vör, I believe they may be intending to go with the Nordic rather than the Icelandic pronunciation in the English version. This wouldn’t be the first time that the English pronunciation has been different from what the Japanese transliteration would seem to suggest (like with Lea and Vanitas), and like in those cases, I’m gonna go with something closer to the Japanese pronunciation because I like it better. So personally I’ll be calling her Vör regardless of how they end up pronouncing it in English (just cause I don’t wanna be calling her “vore”.....).

So in conclusion, this is what I believe to be most likely:

Vor (ヴェル) is based on the Norse goddess of wisdom Vǫr/Vör. Her name is pronounced “Vohr” or “Veur” in English and “Veru” in Japanese.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts dark road #khdr #vor #vör #heck I dunno what tags people are looking at rn #I’ll be spelling it vör on my blog tho #why does the dashboard view on my desktop browser mess up the ogonek so badly #it looks fine literally everywhere else