#all travelers are here technically

[jellyfish-grave]

Getting used to the new-ish style. And some eva suit designing time. Heheheh

[scribefindegil]

Realizing that my personal catnip when it comes to fanworks is "this is a very canon-typical problem, but none of the characters who could provide canon-typical solutions are available so it falls to someone with zero relevant skills except unlimited stubbornness to figure it out instead."

[atopvisenyashill]

Bran The Time Traveling Toddler

Yes that IS a reference to the Tyrion the time traveling fetus theory. The thing about MY insane theories is that they actually make sense and I’m right. Follow me please down the worm hole!!

There’s very clearly Someone Influencing things when it comes to the Starklings and even the overreaching plot in general - there’s enough weird magic surrounding them, whispering in the wind, that it’s a no brainer they’re being watched over. The question is WHO and WHEN. For me, personally, I think it’s Bran, and I think it’s an older Bran from the future (whether it be Bran In TWOW and ADOS or Bran post canon) trying to lead his siblings to safety.

Now, like my Harrenhal meta, I don’t think I’m saying anything new so much as compiling what people have said scattered across the interwebs. There’s a lot of theories about whether Bran can time travel, time travel in general in the series, how george has dealt with time travel before, and about the three eyed crow’s identity and I agree with bits and pieces of what other people have said - preston jacobs is a more famous example of this theory for example. But I don't want to get caught up on things like time travel paradoxes because, like, i don’t care about that, and george has talked about how time travel is more fantasy than scifi bc it’s just not really scientifically possible. do you know what that means? it means there’s no weird physical paradoxes because it’s ✨magic✨ and Bran isn't literally going through space and time. It's as Jojen says-

With two eyes you see my face. With three you could see my heart. With two you can see that oak tree there. With three you could see the acorn the oak grew from and the stump that it will one day become. With two you see no farther than your walls. With three you would gaze south to the Summer Sea and north beyond the Wall

Through his greenseeing abilities, Bran can see the whole of a lifespan, from conception to burial, and can pop out at any point in that lifespan, because a span of 100, 1000, or 1,000,000 years is all the same to the weirwood. So I don't think it's in the realm of Crazy Ass Theories to say that Bran is capable of a more magic based form of time travel. That he can whisper in people's dreams, on the wind, taking on the voice of the old gods themselves and doing his best to nudge things the way he needs them to be in order to keep the people he loves safe.

I also don't think Bloodraven is Three Eyed Crow (though I do think he also uses this metaphor of "flying" wrt magic, and that's why Euron also has a comment about flying in his dreams - I just don't believe that metaphor originates with Brynden himself. Rather, I think he picked it up from somewhere else), but instead, it's Bran, using the weirwood network to get all the pieces on the board he needs where he needs them to be for the endgame. Notice that Brynden doesn't seem to know what Bran is talking about when he mentions the Three Eyed Crow-

"Are you the three-eyed crow?" Bran heard himself say. A three-eyed crow should have three eyes. He has only one, and that one red. Bran could feel the eye staring at him, shining like a pool of blood in the torchlight. Where his other eye should have been, a thin white root grew from an empty socket, down his cheek, and into his neck. "A … crow?" The pale lord's voice was dry. His lips moved slowly, as if they had forgotten how to form words. "Once, aye. Black of garb and black of blood." 

Brynden mentions the watch, but doesn't mention the three eyed crow. Everyone simply refers to Brynden as the greenseer, not the three eyed crow, except for Bran himself, who simply assumes Brynden is the three eyed crow (and we know magical assumptions in this series are generally wrong!).

What’s double interesting to me about this “bloodraven is the three eyed crow” assumption is brynden himself makes his “a thousand eyes and one” comment - but doesn’t mention a third eye. Meanwhile, Bran’s narrative is obviously filled with bird references and the opening of his third eye from Bran feeding the crows on the towers before he falls then longing to go back to the crows afterwards, of a crow sending Jojen to “the winged wolf,” of his dreams of living as a bird in maester luwin’s rookery with his siblings - Jon Snow even compares him to a bird in their final scene face to face when he thinks bran has “fingers like the bones of birds.”

And notable that though both Rickon and Bran have a greendream where they talk to Ned in the crypts of Winterfell just before Ned is executed, Rickon makes no mention of a three eyed crow, but Bran explicitly sees him-

The mention of dreams reminded him. "I dreamed about the crow again last night. The one with three eyes. He flew into my bedchamber and told me to come with him, so I did. We went down to the crypts. Father was there, and we talked. He was sad."

"Shaggy," a small voice called. When Bran looked up, his little brother was standing in the mouth of Father's tomb. With one final snap at Summer's face, Shaggydog broke off and bounded to Rickon's side. "You let my father be," Rickon warned Luwin. "You let him be." "Rickon," Bran said softly. "Father's not here." "Yes he is. I saw him." Tears glistened on Rickon's face. "I saw him last night."

What that says to me is that the Three Eyed Crow has the ability to speak directly to only Bran and can only otherwise appear in a more ephemeral way to others. With the established rules about not being able to communicate properly with the past, I think this makes sense - being able to use the weirwood hivemind/greenseeing powers to appear in a different form to yourself but unable to appear in a concrete form to anyone else.

I think it's even likely we'll see Bran doing some of this nudging and whispering on page in ADOS or maybe as early as TWOW, but it won't be the exact same sort of "Bran can literally reach out and touch someone in a weirwood dream" that they had in the show with the later scenes. It'll be more like that very first scene in the show where we see Bran influence the past slightly - you know, when he calls out "father!" and young Ned turns around, having heard a voice on the wind-

And there's a direct parallel to ADWD here, where Bran is certain Ned heard him speaking in the godswood but Brynden says it's not possible (not possible for Brynden perhaps!)-

Lord Eddard Stark sat upon a rock beside the deep black pool in the godswood, the pale roots of the heart tree twisting around him like an old man's gnarled arms. The greatsword Ice lay across Lord Eddard's lap, and he was cleaning the blade with an oilcloth. "Winterfell," Bran whispered. His father looked up. "Who's there?" he asked, turning … … and Bran, frightened, pulled away. His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child.

It's not quite time travel. It's like the acorn and stump metaphor - Bran can't appear in his physical body in the past but he can make a bit of noise, perhaps even be mistaken for one of the old gods.

As TWOW and ADOS go on, I think we'll see Bran's powers grow (likely in ways that frighten him and horrify the reader), and we'll see the very beginnings of him influencing the plot that happens during the previous books, showing up in scenes we've already experienced, similar to the Ned scene above. I think this because, well...he's already done it!

Now, as for What Time Traveling Bran Has Already Done - it’s tricky because we have a LOT of magic users waking and shaking. I’m not including every single instance of weird whispering or funny birds here, just the moments I think are more likely to be Bran than anyone else because I think Bran mostly deals with his siblings. I imagine they're easiest to reach out to magically because they already have the ability to access magic, and they're also the people he cares most about. The most obvious to me is in A Clash of Kings, when Jon hears a voice on the wind, very similar to the young Ned scene in the show-

Jon VII in A Clash of Kings

The call came from behind him, softer than a whisper, but strong too. Can a shout be silent? He turned his head, searching for his brother, for a glimpse of a lean grey shape moving beneath the trees, but there was nothing, only … A weirwood. It seemed to sprout from solid rock, its pale roots twisting up from a myriad of fissures and hairline cracks. The tree was slender compared to other weirwoods he had seen, no more than a sapling, yet it was growing as he watched, its limbs thickening as they reached for the sky. Wary, he circled the smooth white trunk until he came to the face. Red eyes looked at him. Fierce eyes they were, yet glad to see him. The weirwood had his brother’s face. Had his brother always had three eyes?

Not always, came the silent shout. Not before the crow. He sniffed at the bark, smelled wolf and tree and boy, but behind that there were other scents, the rich brown smell of warm earth and the hard grey smell of stone and something else, something terrible. Death, he knew. He was smelling death. He cringed back, his hair bristling, and bared his fangs.

Don’t be afraid, I like it in the dark. No one can see you, but you can see them. But first you have to open your eyes. See? Like this. And the tree reached down and touched him.

This moment was when I really started paying attention to Weird Shit Bran Might Be Doing because of that line "not before the crow." Now, we know Bran mentions talking with Jon later on, in the very last chapter of the book, here-

 He could reach Summer whenever he wanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon. Though maybe he had only dreamed that.

But I think it's both Bran in the present and Bran in ADOS speaking here - brothers reaching out to each other in their fear, and future Bran piggybacking off that connection to send a warning (this is back in Jon VII, during the shared Jon-Bran dream as before)-

Then he realized he was looking at a river of ice several thousand feet high. Under that glittering cold cliff was a great lake, its deep cobalt waters reflecting the snowcapped peaks that ringed it. There were men down in the valley, he saw now; many men, thousands, a huge host. Some were tearing great holes in the half-frozen ground, while others trained for war...This is no army, no more than it is a town. This is a whole people come together.

Bran warns Jon of the wildling army headed their way because he needs the Night’s Watch to stop fighting the wildlings, get them safely out of the True North (so they can’t be reanimated as wights), and focus on the Long Night. When you read the passage, it seems as if Bran is trying to awaken Jon’s third eye - something present baby Bran isn’t concerned with, because he barely understands his own third eye awakening. But a Bran in ADOS or beyond would know exactly what to say and do to get Jon and himself to wake up! Not just because of the paradox, but because of his connection to his brother and his vast understanding of his own magic. Similar to the idea that “who would know how to motivate Bran better than Bran himself” who would know how to motivate Jon better than one of his beloved siblings?

Arya X in A Clash of Kings

In the godswood she found her broomstick sword where she had left it, and carried it to the heart tree. There she knelt. Red leaves rustled. Red eyes peered inside her. The eyes of the gods. "Tell me what to do, you gods," she prayed.

For a long moment there was no sound but the wind and the water and the creak of leaf and limb. And then, far far off, beyond the godswood and the haunted towers and the immense stone walls of Harrenhal, from somewhere out in the world, came the long lonely howl of a wolf. Gooseprickles rose on Arya's skin, and for an instant she felt dizzy. Then, so faintly, it seemed as if she heard her father's voice. "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives," he said.

“But there is no pack," she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead, the Lannisters had Sansa, Jon had gone to the Wall. "I'm not even me now, I'm Nan."

"You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the north. You told me you could be strong. You have the wolf blood in you."

"The wolf blood." Arya remembered now. "I'll be as strong as Robb. I said I would." She took a deep breath, then lifted the broomstick in both hands and brought it down across her knee. It broke with a loud crack, and she threw the pieces aside. I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth.

Once again, we have a voice - it seemed as if it was her father's voice - telling a Starkling to do something specific, reminding that Starkling of their ties to Winterfell, the north, and home. The voice she hears, speaking her true name, is the kick in the pants Arya needs to grab Gendry and Hot Pie and get out of Harrenhal. There's something interesting, engaging, heartbreaking, that when Arya is at one of her lowest points, lamenting the loss of her pack, and out comes the voice of one of her pack urging her to keep faith, and helping to inspire one of her best moments - I am a direwolf, and done with wooden teeth. Again, we have a voice trying to get the Starklings to wake up and face their reality!

Sansa in A Storm of Swords

That night Sansa scarcely slept at all, but tossed and turned just as she had aboard the Merling King. She dreamt of Joffrey dying, but as he clawed at his throat and the blood ran down across his fingers she saw with horror that it was her brother Robb. And she dreamed of her wedding night too, of Tyrion's eyes devouring her as she undressed. Only then he was bigger than Tyrion had any right to be, and when he climbed into the bed his face was scarred only on one side. "I'll have a song from you," he rasped, and Sansa woke and found the old blind dog beside her once again. "I wish that you were Lady," she said.

To be clear I think there’s a large change this is nothing. BUT. Considering Bran seems to be reaching out to his siblings, I like the idea that Bran, and magic in general, is trying to talk to Sansa but she can’t quite hear it. Winterfell and it’s magic and it’s family is calling it’s daughter home, even torn from her magical guide as she is, still trying to reach out through her dreams and through the animals around her. I’m desperately hoping that at some point in Sansa’s early TWOW chapters, we’ll start to see birds acting and speaking funny around her as Bran tries harder to reach his lost sister.

Theon Greyjoy in A Dance With Dragons

BUT. I don't think it's just the Starklings that get these messages from Bran - it's everyone he cares about, everyone he loves or will love. One of the other more obvious examples of this is Theon Greyjoy, himself clearly capable of some degree of magic, just like the Starklings-

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. “Theon,” they seemed to whisper, “Theon.” The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. “Please.” He fell to his knees. “A sword, that’s all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek.” Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. “I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands.” A leaf drifted down from above, brushed his brow, and landed in the pool. It floated on the water, red, five-fingered, like a bloody hand. “… Bran,” the tree murmured. They know. The gods know. They saw what I did. And for one strange moment it seemed as if it were Bran’s face carved into the pale trunk of the weirwood, staring down at him with eyes red and wise and sad. Bran’s ghost, he thought, but that was madness. Why should Bran want to haunt him? He had been fond of the boy, had never done him any harm. It was not Bran we killed. It was not Rickon. They were only miller’s sons, from the mill by the Acorn Water.

“he had been fond of the boy” please allow me this moment to contemplate killing myself thanks.

okay back on track but this is very self explanatory - we know Theon has some sort of capacity for magic because he had a vision of the Red Wedding in ACOK and unlike Jaime who just fell asleep on a weirweed tree, Theon was just up in bed. We see it again here, where Theon can hear a voice on the wind and then seems to see Bran’s own face in the face of the weirwood tree. Once again, the voice on the wind is trying to help a loved one of Bran’s find their way back to themselves, back to home. And Theon, for all the harm he has done, is still so so loved by Bran, and loves Bran in return.

Samwell Tarly III in A Storm of Swords

Sam made a whimpery sound. “It’s not fair …” “Fair.” The raven landed on his shoulder. “Fair, far, fear.” It flapped its wings, and screamed along with Gilly. The wights were almost on her. He heard the dark red leaves of the weirwood rustling, whispering to one another in a tongue he did not know. The starlight itself seemed to stir, and all around them the trees groaned and creaked. Sam Tarly turned the color of curdled milk, and his eyes went wide as plates. Ravens! They were in the weirwood, hundreds of them, thousands, perched on the bone-white branches, peering between the leaves. He saw their beaks open as they screamed, saw them spread their black wings. Shrieking, flapping, they descended on the wights in angry clouds. They swarmed round Chett’s face and pecked at his blue eyes, they covered the Sisterman like flies, they plucked gobbets from inside Hake’s shattered head. There were so many that when Sam looked up, he could not see the moon. “Go,” said the bird on his shoulder. “Go, go, go.”

Whoever this is - it's Bran!!!! - helps to save Sam and Gilly's lives, actively tells them to run for it, and just a little bit later, Sam is around to help save Bran in turn. I think there's also something to be said for the brotherhood connection here. They refer to each other as brothers in the book because of their connection to Jon; that connection to Jon, and therefore each other, means a lot to both Sam and Bran. There's a practical reason for saving Sam here in that he can help Bran in the "present" timeline, will likely help in the future, but more than that there's an emotional bond here and it seems to me that magic runs off emotions just as assuredly as it runs off of other important stuff like blood and and sacrifice and weirwoods.

Jon Snow XII in A Storm of Swords

With a raucous scream and a clap of wings, a huge raven burst out of the kettle. It flapped upward, seeking the rafters perhaps, or a window to make its escape, but there were no rafters in the vault, nor windows either. The raven was trapped. Cawing loudly, it circled the hall, once, twice, three times. And Jon heard Samwell Tarly shout, “I know that bird! That’s Lord Mormont’s raven!” The raven landed on the table nearest Jon. “Snow,” it cawed. It was an old bird, dirty and bedraggled. “Snow,” it said again, “Snow, snow, snow.” It walked to the end of the table, spread its wings again, and flew to Jon’s shoulder. Lord Janos Slynt sat down so heavily he made a thump, but Ser Alliser filled the vault with mocking laughter. “Ser Piggy thinks we’re all fools, brothers,” he said. “He’s taught the bird this little trick. They all say snow, go up to the rookery and hear for yourselves. Mormont’s bird had more words than that.” The raven cocked its head and looked at Jon. “Corn?” it said hopefully. When it got neither corn nor answer, it quorked and muttered, “Kettle? Kettle? Kettle?” The rest was arrowheads, a torrent of arrowheads, a flood of arrowheads, arrowheads enough to drown the last few stones and shells, and all the copper pennies too.

The Night's Watch seem to take this as some sort of divine sign, and Jon's friends take it as an excellent ploy from Samwell Tarly. But when Pyp confronts Sam over it a page later, Sam completely denies it -

“I had nothing to do with the bird,” Sam insisted. “When it flew out of the kettle I almost wet myself.”

Everyone has their theories about people warging Mormont's crow of course. I think what's interesting to me here is that Jon is really wrestling with the idea of leaving the Watch for Winterfell, in which case Janos Slynt was likely to take over command. Someone like Slynt being in charge when the Long Night is coming is a bad idea, and here, Mormont's bird directly contributes to Jon staying where he needs to be - watching over the wildlings and making sure they aren't turning into Wights.

(And this is getting into my other theories here, but IF Sansa as the Girl In Grey is true, I think this is a neat sort of timeline fixing - almost as if Bran is saying “no, not yet, the pieces aren’t aligned, Jon can’t leave yet, Brienne isn’t at the Vale to get Sansa, I haven’t trained enough, Jon still keeps slapping his hands over his third eye so he can’t see, I need to give myself more time here.”)

Bran II in A Game of Thrones

But...it's not just his family and friends that I think Bran is trying to help here, and of course, if he IS the Three-Eyed Crow, he isn’t YET. What I think is going to be a big climactic part of Bran's story is self sacrifice, giving up some of his own power, his own happiness, to save others. Yes, part of this is my absolute refusal to accept Borg Hivemind Fantasy Police State King Bran in that he will say NO to the hivemind, but I think there's something magical here as well!

I think in order to access great power you need to be willing to put your own body on the line.

Jojen mentions having gotten sick with "greywater fever" shortly before his greendreams started

Dany experiences a miscarriage then literally walks into fire in order to hatch her dragons

both Beric and Catelyn have to quite literally be gruesomely murdered in order for Thoros' fire magic to work to bring them back to life

Melisandre has to physically give birth in order for her shadow assassination to work

on and on it goes. In order to be capable of great power, you can’t just have a willingness to throw someone ELSE onto the pyre but yourself as well. But Bran is pushed out of the window instead of willingly jumping. Or...

The wolfling was smarter than any of the hounds in his father’s kennel and Bran would have sworn he understood every word that was said to him, but he showed very little interest in chasing sticks…Finally he got tired of the stick game and decided to go climbing….

The wolf did as he was told. Bran scratched him behind the ears, then turned away, jumped, grabbed a low branch, and pulled himself up. He was halfway up the tree, moving easily from limb to limb, when the wolf got to his feet and began to howl.

Bran looked back down. His wolf fell silent, staring up at him through slitted yellow eyes. A strange chill went through him. He began to climb again. Once more the wolf howled. “Quiet,” he yelled. “Sit down. Stay. You’re worse than Mother.” The howling chased him all the way up the tree, until finally he jumped off onto the armory roof and out of sight.

I think this is future Bran, finally becoming the Three Eyed Crow, inside Summer. Summer shows no interest in the game and it’s only then that Bran decides to go climbing. Future Bran is sacrificing himself for the greater good - but can’t stop his mournful cry of the fate that awaits his own young self.

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

finally watched Wish and had a major brain blast

They’re besties now because I said so 💫

[alittlechildforever]

Musical Saw

I wanted to write a fanfic for Chants of Sennaar. I only used he/him pronouns but let's say that their languages have no gendered pronouns.

The five representatives of the Temple's peoples were gathered in one of the anchorites' rooms, in the devotees' lands. A bard, the Director of the theater, had called a meeting. The Director stood in front of the screen, which currently showed a saw and some sort of curved stick with a taut string.

The Priest, no, the new Preacher was hoping that he was not expected to know what the curved stick was. The Director was utterly silent as the other representatives gathered. He seemed tense. When he began to speak, it was with utmost seriousness.

It immediately turned out that the Preacher's worry was for nothing, as the Director began explaining what a saw and the stick - a bow - were for. In detail.

The Preacher decided to forgive the Director the long-winded explanation when it looked like the anchorite genuinely did not know what a saw was for. The peoples of the higher levels, it seemed, were a strange bunch. He was not sure if the alchemists' Professor was also ignorant or just enjoyed listening to the lecture. The explanation of the 'bow' was a little more interesting. Bows were an old weapon for launching projectiles, like a slingshot but for longer distances. The warriors did not prefer projectile weapons, but some kept up the practice as a hobby and to brag about their skill.

"Years, Traveler has?" asked the Director to the anchorite- the Traveler's Creator. The Preacher blinked at the change of topic. The Creator anchorite also seemed to take a second to adjust. Then he spoke.

"Zero years. Five months."

"What?!" the warrior's Commander exclaimed. "He is a baby?!" Or spoke. In the Preacher's experience, the Commander was not a quiet man. In this case the Preacher forgave the volume, because what?

The Creator anchorite seemed perplexed at the reaction.

"The Traveler is not a baby. I created him for the mission of uniting the Temple and reviving my people, and all the skill he needed for that he had from his first waking moment." The Creator anchorite paused for a moment. "He did not have knowledge, since every attempted creation I simply gave knowledge to did not work, but I gave him curiosity, and he got all the knowledge he needed in days. He is not a baby."

"Baby, he is not. Child, he is," said the Director. "Playing, he likes." The image on the screen changed, showing the Traveler holding a saw and bow.

Ah. So it was about the Traveler the whole time.

"Days ago, an old saw, he found. Toys, he made. With his devotee friend, he played. Then, funny sounds, the saw made, when it, his friend shook." (Then his friend found that the saw made funny sounds when he shook it. I wanted to keep the grammar as close to bard language as possible. Sorry if it's hard to read.) "When hit while oddly bent, even more interesting sounds, the saw made. A bow to hit with, they found. Like this, the saw sounds now."

What proceeded to play from the sound-boxes was the most haunting noise the Preacher ever heard. It sounded almost like a wordless voice. It sounded like mourning. It was beautiful... except for the odd screeching sounds in some parts.

The Director faced the Creator with utmost seriousness.

"Your child, you will stop. Please."

[kitsoa]

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms

RULES: List your ten favorite characters from ten separate fandoms, then tag ten people!

Tagged by @robinpixels, it is a pleasant surprise. Thank you! Let's see if I can do this but I probably won't land ten people haha. I might be doubling up those tags.

Vash the Stampede (Trigun, Trigun Stampede)

Eishi Karasuma (Birdmen)

Ling Yao (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Chilchuck Tims (Dungeon Meshi)

Roxas (Kingdom Hearts)

Qifrey (Witch Hat Atelier)

Reigen Arataka (Mob Psycho 100)

Link (Legend of Zelda)

Yukine (Noragami)

Kaito Kuroba (Detective Conan/Magic Kaito)

Okie sorry for doubling up for a couple of you. @lackadaisicalpottymouth, @crimson-amarone, @desfraisespartout, @nowherebutserenity, @plentyofpotential, @nerdismyhobby, @birdmenmanga, @sagisawarei, @wendywhite13 +Anyone who wants to give it a shot.

[airenyah]

happy @ranchthoughts can finally add dunkphuwin as a kissing pair on the gmmtv kiss list day

[ehlnofay]

immediate follow-up to these pieces

The sabre cat lies in the grass where they promised to stay.

The grass there is tall, and they’re pressed flat against the ground, so from a distance they look like nothing more than a very bright-looking rock. Efri knows better – she sees them, walking the fields holding tight to Sissel’s hand, and she breaks into a run.

She calls a “Hello!” and the sabre cat’s head rises, and Sissel falls down.

She pulls Efri down with her, the both of them hunkering into the dry grass. When Efri looks her in the face she’s wild-eyed. “Efri,” she says through gritted teeth, “what is that?”

“My friend,” says Efri sheepishly. “I told you not to freak out.”

Sissel’s jaw works for several seconds. She’s got that bloody rabbit or feral fox look about her again. Her free hand is clutching at the grass, fingers digging down into the topsoil. “That’s not your friend, Efri,” she finally bursts out. “That’s – I don’t even know what that is!”

“Sabre cat.”

“That’s not a sabre cat! They’ve got those teeth long as your arms! That’s something else!”

She’s being a little bit rude, but Efri can’t really blame her – Efri was a bit scared too, when she first met her friend. And both of their houses have just burned down. Of course Sissel’s jumpy.

(Efri’s still not feeling upset like she should be. The thought doesn’t make her want to cry – it just feels logical. It’s just true.)

“That’s just a rumour,” Efri says loftily. “They don’t really have teeth like that. And this one’s nice, promise, they’re not going to hurt you. They’ve never even ate one of my goats.”

Sissel’s staring. The whites of her eyes almost seem to shine in the beginning of the evening dark. Her face is mottled pale. She yanks her hand away from Efri and curls up in the grass and dirt in a little ball.

“You’re going to get your dress extra dirty,” Efri warns her, but she doesn’t move, so Efri leaves her to calm down and goes to talk to the sabre cat.

They’re waiting, ears pinned down, looking quite uncomfortable. They peer at Efri accusingly.

“That’s my friend Sissel,” she tells them, rubbing her thumb in circles over her stick. “Sorry she’s being a bit rude. She’s upset. Her house burned down.”

The sabre cat chuffs. They still don’t look best pleased, but they flick one of their ears up.

Efri says, “Mine too.”

Sissel’s staying in a ball in the dirt. Efri faintly registers that she’s beginning to feel hungry.

Efri jabs her stick into the ground. “So. I had an idea. Do you want to go to Winterhold?”

Her friend stills. They draw back, posture wary, a low sound in their throat – but their ears turn to face forwards. Efri thinks that might mean they’re listening. It’s hard to tell, most of the time, but she thinks that’s what that means.

“Because you always get excited when I mention it,” Efri continues, turning up turf with the bottom point of her stick, “and Sissel and me can’t really stay here. It’s all burned down. And Sissel’s great at magic – did I ever tell you that? – and that’s where the College is, up north, and if we go there then she can learn. It would be hard to go by ourselves, but if you’d come with us, then we could all help each other. We could all go.”

Sissel’s still on the ground. The sabre cat stands up, flicking one of their paws.

“Do you want to come with us?” Efri persists.

The sabre cat leans down and thunks her gently on the head with their chin.

“That’s not an answer,” Efri says. They sniff at her.

It’s hard, because this is an important conversation, and it feels very one-sided. At least when Sissel argued the idea she could make points Efri could refute. The sabre cat just lashes their tail and looks doubtful. (Why won’t they just agree? Don’t they know that Efri’s trying?)

Efri sighs and turns back to crouch down next to Sissel. “I’m trying to explain the idea but I don’t know if they like it or not. Can you help?”

Sissel’s arm slips down off her face. She looks at Efri balefully out of the one eye that’s visible. She doesn’t speak.

And Efri gets it. She knows it’s a lot. She knows it’s a weird plan and a weirder day and she knows Sissel is probably upset about the houses and Jouane and how she had to hide under someone’s porch when a dragon came, the right amount of upset, as upset as Efri should be, and she knows Sissel clams up when things go wrong and she knows this is how they always do it, Sissel small and frightened and Efri the strong friend, the one in charge, coaxing her out of her head and making plans and making it better, she knows all of it. But.

But her throat still hurts and her legs are still tingling and she’s tired of trying to be positive, strong, the one in charge.

“Sissel,” she says, voice grating and croaky, “I’m trying.” And she’s not crying exactly but her throat feels stiff and she’s hungry and tired too. She drops her stick and sits next to Sissel in the dirt. “I’m trying. I don’t know what to do.”

Winterhold makes sense. It’s a place both the others want to go – she thinks, at least. And Sissel would do well there, she can learn, she can stop being afraid. And she just needs to get out, get the both of them out. They can’t stay here, not after this. Efri can’t stay to watch the town get rebuilt when something inside her has been clamouring for what feels like forever to tear it down. She can’t stick it out, counting down the months until she’s reached whatever arbitrary age is old and responsible enough to leave, soothing Sissel each time she gets hurt and nobody does anything to prevent it, staying stiff and silent at the dinner table. She hasn’t talked to her parents in the last week, been out in the mornings before they wake up and not back until the lights were put out and they were abed. There’s a rage knocking around inside her at it all. She can feel it like a stone deep in her stomach. She doesn’t want to be angry any more than Sissel wants to be scared. She wants to stop it now before it gets bigger.

She was just trying to find a solution. She just wanted things to be better for everyone.

Dimly, she recognises Sissel’s hand on her shoulder, her arms around her. She’s sitting with her head in between her knees, the stained orange fabric of her smock stretched out against her face. She can hear Sissel’s voice, soft and unsteady, but she’s not talking to her.

She looks up.

The sabre cat is standing just a little in front of them, low to the ground, cautious; Sissel, gripping Efri’s shoulder tight, is talking to them. “She says you want to go to Winterhold.”

They nod very slowly.

“Um,” Sissel says. “Do you want to go with us? I don’t think Efri wants to go back.”

“Do you want to go back?” Efri mumbles. Sissel’s hair is tickling her face.

Sissel shakes her head. “Just don’t know if it’s smart, is all.”

The sabre cat sighs, long and low, and nudges Efri’s scrunched-up body with their paw. Sissel breathes sharply in – but of course Efri isn’t hurt, and she relaxes.

“I don’t know what to do,” Efri tells the both of them.

Sissel squeezes her tightly; the sabre cat sighs again and prods their head a bit under her leg. It doesn’t really work because they’re so much bigger than she is, but they do it again, and again, till Efri gets the message and the girls pull each other to their feet. The sabre cat lets Efri flop over their neck, same as before, and it isn’t until Efri’s adjusting her position that she remembers, mumbles, “My stick!” Sissel picks it up from where she threw it to the ground and passes it up to her. Then, nervously, Sissel climbs up over the sabre cat’s back too, wrapping her arms around Efri’s waist for balance.

“I know you don’t like giving people rides, so thanks,” Efri whispers to them, her fingers curled into their long tawny hair, and they chuff and start walking.

They end up at the cave, of course – where else? It’s well dark by now. Sissel sparks a light in her palm, casting an eerie glow over the damp cave walls, and Efri is delighted to see that the goats are all still there – or almost all, after she does a head count. “Good,” she praises them, slipping off her friend’s back, and feels a pang when she thinks that she’ll probably leave them behind. She’s never too attached to any in particular – they’re livestock, after all – but the herd as a whole has been her constant companion since she was four or thereabouts. Basically a baby. She’ll miss their snuffling, cloven-hoofed presence.

They light a little fire there in the cave, Efri and Sissel gathering and stacking sticks for it. Efri’s fire-flint lights the sparks and Sissel, though she hasn’t learned yet how to make a flame out of nothing, helps them grow.

Efri finds some nuts in her pocket and shares them around. She and Sissel savour them, crunching them into little pieces; the sabre cat swallows them whole. She doesn’t give any to the goats; they’re chewing aimlessly on the moss and don’t seem to need them.

They all lie down, then. It’s still early but it’s been a long, long day, and it’s warm and comfy with the fire going. The sabre cat lies down, and Efri and then Sissel lie against their side – they make a rumbly noise like a purr, which is a bit funny – and then even the goats come and lie with them too, little hoofs and horns digging into Efri’s legs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, and it isn’t, but it really, really is.

Maybe they’ll go to Winterhold tomorrow. They’ll talk about it.

Efri thinks, half-asleep, that her parents probably haven’t even noticed she’s gone – she’s out of the house all the time they’re in it, and now they don’t even have a house to meet in. She wonders if they’d forget about her like they seemed to forget Onmund. She wonders if she cares.

Onmund is there, at Winterhold, at the College. If she goes there she’s almost sure to see him. Does she want to see him?

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how she feels about anything today. Maybe she’ll know tomorrow.

Efri closes her eyes. Against the rise and fall of her sabre cat friend’s ribcage, with Sissel’s knees resting in her lap and one of the kids rubbing the side of its face against her bare foot, she falls asleep.

They���ll sort things out in the morning.

[soramystic]

From the northern tundras of Thule, I would like to wish everyone a safe and happy mid-winter season, whether you have anything you celebrate or not!

The darkest days are behind us, so let's make like Yobi and Ulf and watch the light return ^^

[hella1975]

for a popular band i dont see nearly enough people freaking the fuck out about the lumineers on here! i have to do everything my damn self! anyway listen to their album III in order WITH the music videos and maybe you'll feel significantly worse about everything ever

[ofcowardiceandkings]

writes "get fucked" in reply to a survey question about small boats

[happypeachsludgeflower]

I’m not really one to enjoy proving other people wrong. Simply knowing they’re wrong and I could is usually enough for me, (i.e. my dad’s insistence that Spock and Kirk are straight when we ALL know they’re not),

but last night I was given the immense satisfaction of explaining to my step father why his opinion was wrong is such detailed that the Asshole Who Knows Everything actually said, “You’re right.”

I shall be lording it over him for the rest of existence.

essay in the tags

[nezumasa]

Working on that Osvald/Temenos/Partitio/Hikari fic as that two-parter celebration of beating all the Extra Battles

The other part is another Osvald/Temenos

Subclasses are probably gonna be

Temenos-Dancer (because I like his gay little dance and the poet shirt + Osvald was mainly a merchant in my playthrough so)

Osvald-Merchant

Hikari-Hunter

Partitio-Hunter

Since I get an excuse to put knots in it + it makes sense meta and in-universe wise since Leghold Trap is a thing.

“What about the girls” I’d do a F/F/F/F with them, but I don’t wanna reuse scenarios and Castti probably would figure out a cure before the fucking started

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

i made some friends for over (based on cobalt memories by harumaki gohan and meher by chinozo respectively)

made a little guy based on one of my favorite vocaloid songs (OVER! by iyowa)

[changes]

A new way to navigate Tumblr

If you use Tumblr on a web browser, you might have noticed us testing a brand new navigation on your dashboard in the last month. Now, after some extensive tweaks, we’ve begun rolling out this new dashboard navigation to everyone using a web browser. Welcome to the new world. It’s very like the old world, just in a different layout.

Why are we doing this? We want it to be as easy as possible for everyone to understand and explore what’s happening on Tumblr—newbies and seasoned travelers alike.

Labels over icons: When adding something new to Tumblr in the past, we’d simply add a new icon to our navigation with little further explanation. Turns out no one likes to press a button when they don’t know what it does. So now, where there’s space, the navigation includes text labels. Since adding these, we’ve noticed more of you venturing to previously unexplored corners of Tumblr. Intrepid!

What’s already been fixed? Thanks to feedback from folks during the testing phase, we’ve been able to make some improvements right out of the gate. Those include returning settings subpages (Account, Dashboard, etc.) to the right of the settings page instead of having them in an expandable item in the navigation on the left; fixing some issues with messaging windows on smaller screens; and streamlining the Account section to make it easier to get to your blogs.

What’s next? We’re looking into making a collapsible version of this navigation and improving the use of screen space for those of you with enormous screens. We’re also working on improving access to your account and sideblogs.

That’s all for now, folks. For questions and suggestions, contact Support using the “Feedback” category. Please select the “Report a bug or crash” category on the support form for technical issues. And keep an eye out for more updates here on @changes.

[inkskinned]

i think probably magic is real.

the thing is that i was a teacher for a long time and sometimes i come back to this moment in the classroom where a 7 year old asked me are mermaids real? and i stared at her and had no idea how to answer.

for a really long time i just assumed that glow-in-the-dark paint/etc was a result of something made in a lab. i just recently found out that a specific mine in new jersey that just has rocks that do that naturally and it sent me for a loop about stuff.

because first of all - let's be honest, all of us: if there was going to be a naturally-occurring location for uv-activated glow-in-the-dark rocks? it would have to be in New Jersey. that's just the place that makes the most sense for that to happen. probably 10 thousand years ago cavemen were like. "oh this place is gonna be new jersey one day. this has new jersey energy."

the rocks only glow in the presence of uv light and are otherwise just normal rocks. in lord of the rings, there's a special sword that glows in the presence of orcs. it is magic, except that's a real thing that exists (and exists, as we have discussed, in new jersey, of all places). i guess maybe this implies orcs give off uv light.

yeah, okay. magic is just science. i know all the stuff about how ghosts are probably just caused by vibrating pipes. i knew about how there's a reason-for-all-of-this. but what do you mean that there's rocks that give you poison damage if you touch them. what do you mean that we live on the same planet as electric eels. what do you mean that a battery just, like - stores power?

and i don't know. in 20 years maybe they will find a mermaid but they will say something like well she's technically not a mermaid she's this other species, she has whiskers and not hair. and i will have to travel back in time and tell a 7 year old not technically, but there's something that is like a mermaid.

and she will look at me and think that what i am saying is science means magic isn't real and what i am actually saying is science is our word for why magic works. and then i will teach her about uv rocks, and new jersey. i will tell her to be a scientist, which is the same thing as being a wizard. there is probably a reason why sci-fi and fantasy are often grouped together. it is very lucky to be here, i think. if you squint, the improbability of it all - it does kind of feel like spellwork.