#Sound of Tor

[the-labyrinth-of-me]

(Alan Wake jingle plays in the background)

[preacherboyd]

Sherlock Holmes [2009] dir. Guy Ritchie

[lightofunova]

[tyrannuspitch]

oh no the fun symbolism in that edit that just came out of my queue is not linguistically accurate :(

that's a T-rune not a TH-rune, so it doesn't matter than the L-rune is a T-rune with a missing piece. because his name is thor not tor :(

but! potentially you could still argue that a TH-rune (ᚦ) is two L-runes (ᛚ) put together, with one mirrored along the vertical axis... like so:

which could maybe mean something about... shadows? reflections? halves? loki as a defective version of thor, but thor's sense of identity inherently incorporating loki? loki being lonely and severed from thor? idk it's less obvious and therefore harder to interpret. but it IS linguistically accurate. whenever you need someone to make your symbolism worse and more contrived just give me a call 👍

[dougielombax]

Odin & Tor Anderson are an interesting case.

Their dementia is so advanced that it’s actually caused them to forget that they’ve had it and to forget it entirely, in turn forgetting their memory loss and remembering everything they have ever forgotten.

…

In my mind!

[elfroot-and-laurels-moved]

sending you “The terrible fire of old regret is honey on my tongue” for Lathuilas 👀

Jay HOW did you read my mind bc I've been thinking about Lathuilas and Narmeleth like nonstop. Also on AO3.

                Narmeleth. Here, alive, imprisoned. Within her mind, and within these walls. Sithad—for that was the name by which Lathuilas knew the place—stood still, but Narmeleth had passed long hence, and Lathuilas cursed the stones that had failed to hold her. No, no—not the stones, but those who had watched her. Her father, her jailer, her mentor, her tempter: Laerdan, Oakheart, Celebrimbor, Antheron. Annatar.                 Sauron.                 Alone in this place now called Delossad, the place of abhorrence, Lathuilas turned to a rusted brazier and rushed it with pointless rage. Piece by piece every loose remnant of her beloved’s imprisonment fell to her hands and her sword. Each rotted corpse of furniture, each crumbling hint of debris: all of it she thrashed, dashing it upon the ground, the walls, the ceiling.

                It was, in its own way, a pleasing draught, warm and heady as Miruvor and yet thrice as bitter. And it would not return Narmeleth to her side, nor would it chase the shadows from her mind.                 “Adarthêl.” Scarce had Lathuilas heard Dúventoliel’s footfalls as she approached, but now the young healer stood in the hall. Her eyes shone in the dim light, and they were those of her father. Lathuilas closed her own eyes and turned away her face in shame.                 “Tôriell.” How long had the girl cared for her father’s sister as she slept? Lathuilas could never know. She had been unaware, lost in dreams. Lost in nightmares.                 “We have driven off the Angmarim sent by Mordrambor.” Further shame, for Lathuilas heard the hatred in the voice of her brother’s daughter. She heard the hatred and knew that she had failed him.                 “You would seek to face the foul Númenórean himself.” The words were observation and accusation both, and they made Dúventoliel set her jaw. Fire flashed in the green beryls of her eyes, and for a moment more, she stood as the image of Findolag, her father. Then the rage was hidden, snuffed out but not gone, and she turned to the plain ring that adorned her finger.                 “I would find justice for those whom he has taken.” Lathuilas knew she spoke of the Dûnadan, and her heart ached once more, for how could she deny her brother’s daughter that which she so craved? How could Lathuilas deny Dúventoliel in this, the most precious of things? And yet: how could she not?                 “It is not justice you seek, child. It is the fire of vengeance, and it shall destroy you, as all fire does.” Lathuilas did not look at Dúventoliel as she spoke. There was no need.                 “Then we shall be destroyed together, Adarthêl.” Closing her eyes, Lathuilas turned away from Dúventoliel’s retreating form. She faced once more the darkness of Narmeleth’s cell, and she let the sweet fire burn through her, as she had done since that day in the holly glade so long past.                 For Dúventoliel was right: Lathuilas had burned slowly since the moment Narmeleth had left her side. In the shadows of Delossad, Lathuilas still burned, and that fire was all that kept her alive.

[hearty-an0n]

toronto royals locking in my guess

[pulquedeguayaba]

Obsessed with this review in Spanish of Tor Bormann-Larsen's biography on Amundsen.

Basically it goes like this:

"God, it took me months to finish this book!!! Not because it was badly written. I think it's the most objective biography of this gentleman who called himself a polar adventurer just for having the title. An immature dude that, besides having delusions of grandeur, fancied himself the one and best polar explorer. The way this guy was able to sell his ideas and get people to sponsor all his enterprises that he believed had exclusive rights to left me with a bitter taste. He betrayed his mentors, friends, and family. He did all sorts of scams. Only hooking up with married women. Nowadays, no one would pay for even his bus ticket. In the end, he tries to play victim once again, dragging with him 5 more people. A clown till the end. This is nothing but a reminder that how a person, aside from the glory, fame and the capitalization of such a significant enterprise as scientific exploration, isn't better than a regular person that leads a quiet life contributing to society. They all hide their skeletons in their closet. But this guy, I can conclude, while he had the ability to survive the polar weather, for activities as equally as complex, like human relationships and science, was fucking useless. I have had enough of this wanker...a fucking disappointment".

It's so rare to come across reviews of polar exploration books in Spanish cos most of them aren't translated* so really caught my eye. Also she shits on Roald SO hard but still gives the book a 4 star review 😆

*More than willing and able to fill that gap btw 🙋

[avvidstarion]

new tav they're a tempest domain cleric of talos and i can't choose between two names. do they look more like a torrent or a cataclysm to you? right now they are cataclysm but i can always change it. My thought process for each name is in the tags

[brightbeautifulthings]

Looking Glass Sound by Catriona Ward

"None of this stuff really works, I know that, deep down. It's just a way of putting a tiny drop of your will into the great black ocean of the universe. Sometimes it's just too hard to lose what you love."

Year Read: 2023

Rating: 2/5

About: Two summers in a row, Wilder Harlow and his friends enjoy the freedom of boating, games, and beaches at Looking Glass Sound, but when the second ends in a town tragedy, the three of them are changed forever. Now a middle-aged man, Wilder returns to Looking Glass Sound to write his final memoir before his suicide-- the story that was stolen from him in college and sold as a best-selling novel. But the longer Wilder stays in the town, the more his grip on memory and reality begin to weaken, until he begins to suspect he may be haunted by the characters in the story. I received a free e-ARC through NetGalley from the publishers at Tor Nightfire. Trigger warnings: character death, suicidal ideation, body horror (graphic), torture/captivity mentions, poisoning, drowning, abortion, anxiety/panic attacks, internalized homophobia.

Thoughts: This started off so strong and then descended into absurdity. I really enjoyed the beginning story of the three friends and the chilling town murders and, to be perfectly honest, I think this by itself would have made a better novel. Had Ward spent more time developing these beginning relationships, dropping clues, and building up to the reveal, it would have been a more than adequate murder mystery story with a twist that, if not shocking, at least would have been heartfelt (and terrifying). The characters aren't particularly likeable, but at that age they are, at least, compelling in a way that drifts off when they get older and continue to be horrible.

Instead, Ward seems more focused on repeating the same kind of twisty mindfuck from The Last House on Needless Street instead of just… telling a good story. The thing is that not every story needs to be told that way. She seems to be playing around with metafiction here with the shifting perspectives and multiple retellings from different angles. There's an entire section that repeats the first part as a "novelization" with different characters that's downright tedious to read. Like a lot of metafiction where form doesn't follow function, it ends up feeling gimmicky and pointless. I like the end concept okay as a concept, but it comes so late in the book that it doesn't even feel real, let alone like it has any basis for being there. It ultimately ends up feeling like two very different books smashed together, and it does neither of them justice. Looking Glass Sound sacrifices good storytelling for the sake of cleverness without ever actually being that clever.

[squidsquadlove]

side by side PWHL OTT-MIN and BOS-TOR let's gooooooo

[hammity-hammer]

another non steddie post BUT has to do with gender shit and being a queer recognizably and existing in my skin--

i went to a friday the 13th party last night with one of my platonic partners (whom i will now call pp because shorthand is easier) and we both are very fem presenting afab people who use pronouns that don't match our outward expression. i personally use he/him exclusively, unless another trans person is referring to me in which they can use it/its because they get it in a way that cis people i don't often trust to be able to get. pp uses they/he/(it) in the same kind of way. i had my tits OUT and i am comfortable like that, because i know that the people who know me and love me and understand me know deep within themselves that i am not a woman. they see me for everything that i am and they love me. we re-met someone that we had seen the last time at the party, who was a fucking angel and so sweet! he offered us drugs to which we both declined because i was DD and pp strictly drinks, and we had good conversations! i gave him chocolates i had brought with me, we complimented each other's costumes, and overall just had a good fucking time vibing together! we started talking about gender, because i have a more androgynous sounding voice because of my testosterone, and pp referred to me using the correct pronouns. our new friend got so fucking excited that someone who was like him existed-- he tells everyone that he uses any pronouns because he doesn't want to have to repeatedly explain to people that he's not a woman, that he exists outside of the gender spectrum. he told us about the immense euphoria he gets when his partner refers to him using the correct pronouns, and i got so excited for him! it's been really fucking hard lately existing as such a feminine presenting person in spaces that aren't full of me-- and he helped re-light that spark of wanting to tell every person that tells me i'm a woman/too feminine to be a man/too xy or z to be trans and live my life peacefully to fuck right off. he was so fucking happy to meet people whose perceived genders didn't match their identities because people like us are so fucking far and few between. i have dysphoria-- i have it so fucking bad some days and didn't even realize that's what i was feeling because people that look like me/feel like me don't talk about it! transness is always seen from such a binary point of view, and even when people try to go outside the binary it just ends up like a third gender of androgyny and i personally just don't fit that! i am a guy. i am a dude. i'm a girl. i'm a person. i wear dresses and skirts and pants and proudly display my body because it's the only one i have and my mother did a very good fucking job in raising me to believe that i'm beautiful, and that anyone can be beautiful regardless of their gender identity. she taught me that people are people at their cores and that is what makes them beautiful. she also taught me that as long as i'm happy with myself and with the people i surround myself (who love me unconditionally, might i add) then it doesn't fucking matter what the world thinks of me. she let me play with whatever toys i wanted as a kid, she dressed me in the most neutral shit, in boys clothes, in girls clothes, because she thought they looked cool and they made me happy! she took the gender out of things that society and my peers and the other adults in my life kept trying to force gender into. she reminds me daily that as long as i'm happy, i'm beautiful. i know that i come from a very unconventional upbringing when it comes to gender expression and identity, and that i'm so fucking fortunate to have such a supportive family, and i am so fucking grateful for that. i spend every day at a job that i hate because i'm surrounded by people that don't respect me because they see me as a woman because of the tits on my chest and the clothes that i wear and that fucking kills me. i still fight them every day on it, because i have to. because if i don't then the next trans person that interacts with them will have to deal with this shit. and hopefully exposure therapy helps or something because jesus fuck.

[tyrannuspitch]

it makes me rlly sad to see so many ppl say they wouldn't write fic set outside america (plus maybe the uk, japan, or a few others) bc "no-one would read it". i promise i will read your slovak mafia AU. i will read your jamaican superhero AU, your moroccan time travel AU, your thai coffeeshop AU, whatever you've got. i am in fact actively seeking them out bc i LOVE putting characters in situations. and if it's not a matter of de-americanising but simply of NOT americanising then i promise i will be right there in the trenches with you because if i ever write a thor modern AU i swear to god i WILL be putting those guys in scandinavia where they fucking belong

[andmaybegayer]

anyone read anything by Everina Maxwell? Got opinions?

[spyglassrealms]

For those of you wondering what "tor" means and why I use it: it's a fictional oath I made for Sphaera!

Watsonian explanation: "tor," often used in conjugation as "snowing tor," derives from the name of the Temoran underworld and is grammatically used equivalent to "hell." "Snowing tor" is an emphasis modifier -it could never snow in tor, thus the phrase is used primarily to express incredulity.

Doylist explanation: "tor" is derived from "torrid," since the underworld is a hot place, but it also has a more entertaining meta origin: the Rush song By-Tor and the Snow Dog! I've been a fan of Rush for a good decade now and their music has influenced the development of Sphaera -in particular its mythos. The Prince of Hell in that song is called By-Tor, so I interpreted it as a title and took the "tor" half as the name of hell.