#mother earth and her infinite sky

[the-dead-sea-trilogy]

Preview: Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky

I have been working on a lot of fics simultaneously, and sitting on this one in my drafts for literal years. I've decided I want to share at least a little bit with you and of the amazing world and its characters that have been living in my head ever since I wrote Devil.

I think it will be neat to see where they are currently and then where they are eventually going, since Icarus is being updated now :)

Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky

“And all this geology shit,” Archie said.  “What happened’ta us sayin’ we were gonna try t'do this together?” “Well, I mean of course we are.  But--” “I thought we were gonna go with somethin’ like… more with land n’ sea together.  Somethin’ more like…” Archie paused, feeling it rising on the tip of his tongue.  He clapped his hands together as it emerged.  “Mother Earth.” “Mother Earth?” Maxie said.  “Oh please.  That’s a horrible name.”

Hardly one year after the events of The Devil and the Dead Sea, Archie and Maxie are still picking up the pieces of the primordial fallout, learning how their two teams--now combined into one--can get along. And, of course, sorting out the logistics of their own fledgling relationship. The court hearings are finally over, their relationship is now old news, and their new--yet unnamed--team is figuring out what to do with the remains of the former Team Magma base.

But all is not well overseas. Thousands of miles a way, a catastrophe has struck the region of Unova, and the icy shards come careening back home. And then their mutual parole officer explains the possibility of an even greater threat looming in the northern region of Sinnoh.

PREVIEW on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50374531

[silverjirachi]

the real question: how is Nugget doing in Mother Earth? will never forget that little guy

Nugget is alive and well and so is Dr. Fibonacci! I got questions about his well-being too and i promise they are both doing just wonderful and will probably have cameos 😂 Maxie went on an insane evil man bender in Devil so I understand the concerns but he's doing better now I swear

[evilminji]

So, I was reading some Percy Jackson fic stuff today and....I had a Danny Phantom thought.

And thought you might vibe with this at least a little bit.

Anyways, you know how the Phandom frequently has Clockwork be Kronos, or at least a piece of Kronos that regrets his actions towards his children?

Now, Danny being adopted by Clockwork. Who keeps bringing him little pieces of clouds and stars to bake into cookies and turn into marshmallows, and always has a pitcher of fresh rainwater for Danny to drink from if he feels thirsty.

Danny is very much vibing with this. He gets to Eat Space!!! The Sky is a part of him now, and he can FEEL that final frontier so very much at hand. He can close his eyes and See.

Earth below him, kept safe and warm under him, like a mother duck with an egg.

Looking up, Space is right there. It rolls against his back like a friend. The Sun bears down on him, as if bearing witness to him.

And then Danny...Dreams. He dreams of a Time that is not his own, but yet is, all at once.

Time's sickle takes him apart. Methodically, but as painless as he can make it. Kronos his son weeps, even as he and his siblings his babies reach for their Father's pieces and carefully, lovingly, place each and every single one amidst the sky.

"Forgive us" they say.

"We did as we must. We could not let you continue" they weep all over again.

"We will take care of the world you leave behind" They promise.

And so, Ouranos watches. Even with the weight if a Prophecy, and Fate upon them, his children would forever love their parents. He could've been stuck underneath the ground, where that detestable Tartarus was locked away.

But every child of Sky and Earth took the care to place their Father amidst his element. His pieces became the very Sky itself.

And then Danny wakes up.

His hands shake, and his everything aches with fleeting memories. The Infinite Realms are home to dead Gods and Titans. Who's to say, the Father of the Titans could not be spawned with it's embrace?

The next time Clockwork hugs him, Danny knows. His very skin sings with love and joy, that at least one of his children did not forget him.

But no matter how many pieces of the Sky he may eat, no matter how many memories of Old Man Ouranos Danny regains, that has passed.

Time greets the Sky once again, Father and Son reunited, but this go around it falls upon Kronos to be the Father, and Ouranos the Beloved Son.

In the back of his head Danny hears a song. One that Ouranos and Gaea used to sing for their little ones. He knows where the other half of the melody is. Soon, they shall be reunited.

(Hope that's at least halfway coherent? I know some people are gonna be mad that I'm making Danny more than Just Some Guy again, but is that not the spirit of fanfics? To take your specialest blorbo and Put Them in Situations?

Anyways, TL,DR: Danny's Space Obsession is in part his previous life as Ouranos, the Sky, Father of the Titans. Kronos, as Clockwork, is raising his Father's reincarnation and returning his pieces to him, now that pesky Prophecies aren't in the way.

They decide that letting Clocky be the Dad this time around suits them just fine.

Danny hears the song he and his wife, the Earth used to sing, and will answer her call soon, ((who Gaea is is up to interpretation, although I the show itself practically tosses Sam into this role)) once he's NOT a mess from the split memories)

Oh THIS? This is lovely! I DO vibe. Honestly can't think of anything I want to add, but I SURE DO WANNA MAKE SURE EVERYONE SEES IT.

Look at it! o/ *smacks it on your dashboard*

[youcalledsworld]

The Lost Phantom Women

Valerie and Danny are married and they adopted Danielle who can't age or mature until she lives until her physical age.

One day when Valerie and Danielle are out flying in the Infinite Realm to visit Dorathea when they flew through a natural portal into the DC universe.

Thanks to Danny, the Fenton parents and Tucker, Valerie's suit could keep up with Danny and let her battle with their rogues some of whom could be considered gods. And while Danielle is her own person she is still the clone of a powerful Halfa.

This led to the Justice League and villains trying to find out where these two powerful beings came from. Valerie and Danielle don't want anything to do with either side.

But they got cornered by both sides and were fighting back. Valerie got injured taking a shot that was going to hit Danielle. And when Danielle saw her mother fall to the ground she unleashed a wail that shook the earth and allowed Danny to locate them.

But instead of going to them Danny pulled the earth into the Infinite Realms.

All the heroes and villains could see after realising their ears and opening their eyes when the pain faded was green and purple sky's and a giant with green eyes and white hair looking down on them demanding to know what they are doing to his wife and child.

[chronically-ghosted]

between the earth and sky (lover, share your road - prologue) series masterlist | AO3 Link | part i

chapter rating: T (series: E)

word count: 1.1K

chapter summary: how Joel Miller's forefathers came to settle the southern plains

chapter warnings/tags: references to genocide (human and animal), racism

a/n: Miller County was a real place!

Vincente Ramón Morelos with his wife María Guadalupe Rodríguez Saldaña went in search of a better life in 1848.

Exhausted from the bloody revolution against Spain, then the devastating loss at the hands of white “rebels”, the childless couple leave the southern hill country by the San Antonio river to go north, to find peace, in a place that the Anglos have never touched — so promised Señor De La Cruz, a former comandante like Vincente, who shared his dream of wide, open spaces, and a sky that stretches into infinite possibilities.

This land they marched across, with its barren trees and flat golden spreads, is nothing like anything they’ve ever seen before. The wagon chain the Morelos follow whispered in hushed, awed tones. María reached out the side of the wagon, letting her hand brush against brown thistles, watching how the reed springs under her fingers, how it tickles her palm. She never knew the earth could be so soft – teasing her with some great secret it’s eager to share. She looked to her husband and he glowed beneath the rich blue sky and bronze sun. Maybe this was God showing her how to fall in love with a new home.

Towns became few and far between. In a transitory cattle town, Vincente listens to two vaqueros tell stories over a loose game of poker about a briefly-disputed patch of land, five hundred miles east, one that exchanged ownership three times before disappearing into obscurity. But a single name settled permanently, before its township ever could: Miller County. Vincente quietly related to that blurring of identity, a loss of a permanent place to be known and loved, so when going through towns of white Texan Anglos that distrusted his olive skin and aquiline nose, he told them his name was Vincent Miller and he was, like all others, looking for a place to call home. He found it north of what would become Amarillo, and south of what would be Dalhart, between the Canadian and Red River, rivers that never seemed as endless and deep as the Gulf from his childhood. 

By the spring of 1852, Mary (formerly María) and Vincent, established on their acre of land, had welcomed two girls and were expecting a third child, who ended up being a boy. This boy was given the name John (though his mother called him Juan at home) Tomás Miller, after Mary’s grandfather. As a boy, John learned from his father Vincent to listen and trust the Kiowa, the Comanche, the Gods of the Grass Sea, who were said to have been born with a heart of a buffalo. Who walked with prairie chickens and raced the pronghorn antelopes. Recognizing a kinship with nomadic blood of the Millers – once Morelos – the Comanche taught them what it meant to use the land as one uses a brother for support. Use in kind, but treat just as kindly. Avoiding what the Anglos referred to as “dry farming” because it was only the Anglos who believed, by sheer force of will, they could make rain come down from the sky. The Comanche were shocked by their arrogance. As he grew older and stronger beneath that heavy sunshine that had endeared his mother to these foreign lands, John maintained his father’s relationship with The First People, even aiding them in keeping the encroaching Anglo homesteaders off the lands of the buffalo and the blue grama grass. 

When John married in the summer of 1885 a woman whose skin burnt easy in the sun, but had hands rougher than a sailor’s, Vincent was surprisingly happy for his son, because Jennie Sarah Hansen was quick-witted, brave, and possessed a rare quality when it came to the regards of the Tejanos and The First People – compassion. Disowned by her own family for such a trait, Jennie came to live with John, his father Vincent, his mother Mary, with letters from John’s two sisters and their families coming from down south every month. 

Joel Ramón Miller was born in the late fall of 1891, followed shortly there by his brother, Tom – Tommy, because Tom was too serious for a boy with a smile like that – and the lineage of working under blue skies in endless dunes of buffalo grass was passed down, third generation of Vincent, who lived to see his oldest grandson turn five before quietly, with dignity, leaving this world in his sleep. 

Tommy Miller continued to look towards the sun and, as a young man, followed it west. But Joel, like his father, like his grandfather, like the land itself, kept watch over the ones he loved from the porch of that a-frame house, the one his father built for his mother. For a time that included a woman with dark skin and darker eyes out of Alabama. And then it was just the baby who came from her, who came from him. Sarah, named after his mother who was as fierce and resilient as the buffalo grass and as beautiful as the endless sky. 

As far as Joel Miller was concerned that was enough. The two of them – him and his babygirl, with the plums and the maize, and the secrets of this wide wilderness handed down in partnership from the Comanche and the Kiowa, because the Millers knew what to keep and what wasn’t theirs, or anyone’s, to own.

Until the day came when the buffalo were slaughtered by the thousands, and the once great Gods of the Grass Sea were felled, both driven to extinction by a force that held no compassion or concern for the lands it swallowed. 

The cowboys over in the XIT, runners of cattle in the land that used to tremble beneath the hooves of thousands of buffalo, started to complain first. Rumbled that no good was to come of any of it; the American government gave too freely; real estate agents and land developers promised too much. Those arriving in the prairie came only for the green that the wheat boom offered, and had misjudged the quietness of the plains for emptiness.

Joel Miller watched as towns bloomed overnight, model E’s rumbled off the new railway lines, and nesters and sodbusters burrowed into their dugouts like wolf-spiders — at the cost of the beautiful, bellowing sea of grass. The bison were long dead, the Kiowa and Comanche now ghosts between the stalks of blue grama, and a wind was coming in from the north. 

It whispered to those who could still listen and would heed its warnings. 

And Joel Miller, with his only daughter, listened and waited and didn’t like what he heard. First, the drought came. Lasted ten years. Then the economic freefall that blew out entire financial systems on a global scale. 

And then, like a ghoulish nightmare, a specter of death that came from the ill-resting spirits of the bison, came the dust storms. 

The air crackled with electricity, car radios clicked off, overwhelmed by the static. Ignitions shorted out. Waves of sand swept over the roads. Children were lost and found thirty feet from their back doors, dead, suffocated on dust. Five thousand feet tall, wider than entire cities, this was blind vengeance, a reckoning well-deserved.

And for the first time in his life, Joel Miller was afraid.

series masterlist | part i

[ribbononline]

Small snippet of Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky (preview) by @silverjirachi ! Admittedly very compressed down to fit into a single page. But still!

[gingermintpepper]

Fate-Master I

I did say I would post more wips of my Zeus and Apollo writing so here's a bit from a series I've been writing concerning a young Apollo grappling with being the up and coming Moiragetes - Master of the Fates.

Do let me know if there's any interest for this sort of thing; I didn't originally intend to post this stuff anywhere, but I've just been so frustrated that I feel like it's necessary now 😂

Apollo marks time by etching notches into a clay tablet. He watches from the edge of the mountain’s summit, six of his crows perched three-by-three atop his shoulders and the seventh casting her gaze down onto the maidens all gathered to pick their flowers. He watches them laugh and joke and throw their petals all about, free and fragrant with an easy camaraderie spread thick between them all. He carves his first notch when Persephone lays eyes on the innocent narcissus; in his visions he could never make sense of time’s passing - he did not know how long she would remain swallowed, merely that it would be long enough for her to be missed, searched for, grieved and avenged.

 It will be worth it all in the end.  

Soon, all the world will delight in the birth of new Seasons, a new system of time to mark the stabilisation of this new era.  

He averts his eyes when the earth crumbles beneath Persephone’s feet. There is no way for him to deny it if he truly does bear witness to the act. Apollo cannot see the pitch-black rider on his earth-dark horses as he grabs the maiden. He cannot see those immortal steeds galloping down, down, infinitely down beneath the earth so their rider may delight in his prize. He does not know the sound of her screams as the ground eats her alive. Only the narcissus remains when he once more casts his gaze down, white and untouched. Innocent. Like Apollo. Neither of them have seen a single thing. 

(But oh, her screams are loud in his ear. Big, reedy yells, wet with phlegm. A fawn crying for her mother, the tittering of a sparrowling swallowed foot-first by the viper. They never seemed this loud in his dreams, like footnotes easily overlooked at the very bottom of the page. Apollo does not see her go, but he hears her. He hopes he is the only one who hears.) 

He calls for his darling crow to return to him, stepping light into the halls of Olympus. His day will continue on as normal but to visit his mother so he can request a particularly thick himation for the coming days. Lemnos clicks next to his ear and Apollo huffs, dismissing his crows in a scatter of bright white feathers and glittering metal. They will watch what he cannot. They will make sure the maiden remains buried deep beneath the earth. 

The subtle cold emanating from his father’s quarters curls about his calves - he did not realise he had already travelled the length of the halls. He does not knock before he enters; the women are all busy this time of day and shrewd Athena is still out dancing with his sister, it will just be Father in his room, bent over his table or pouring over one of his maps. 

“It is done.” 

And Father looks up from his writing, a knowing glint shining in wine-dark eyes. His face remains frightfully still, marble stiff and focused on Apollo with the full weight of his eagle sharp intent. “You did not see it?” 

Her scream is the same as the highest note on the aeolian scale. A wonderfully piercing ‘A’. It is similar to the sound that resonates in the sky’s centre, Apollo cannot stop hearing it in his ear. “I did not.” 

Father smiles then, like sunlight peeking through the rough edges of the storm, “Good. That’s good.” He puts his hand to his face, scratches his chin as he hums contemplative. “How much time do we have before… well, before.” 

Demeter’s wailing will be a much darker sound, phrygian and guttural, discordant. Apollo’s had the score written for months now. He thinks he will hang Persephone’s cry next to it. Maybe he will incorporate their melodies into the song he will play at her return. Maybe it is cruel of him to already be thinking such things. “I know not. Time has never been the clearest to me, even in my most vivid of visions.” 

“It is no matter,” Father leans forward, digs a bolt of bright red fabric out of his drawer. “Here,” When he catches it, Apollo feels a denseness in the fibres he has never known. They’re slick yet springy, far coarser than sheep’s wool but unlike any goatskin or leather he has ever handled. “For the cloak you will ask of your mother.”   

He is slowly becoming accustomed to his thoughts not being his own, to his father living so closely in his head. The woven string connecting them still bleeds dye if either of them pull too hard on the connection, but in these quiet moments, it is a comfort. A lifeline. 

“Chimera skin, so it will not burn when you wear it for your work.” Would Father be this calm if it was Artemis swallowed by the earth? Would Apollo? That watery scream is a persistent ringing, she is still screaming far beneath where none but the rider can hear her. (Apollo hears her. Even now, he can hear the heavy breath of the dark stallions, the ripping winds that sting at her ears. Persephone is a friend, can he really leave her to this fate -?) “Phoebus.” 

Father’s broad palm is warm on his shoulder. It pulls him gently from his spiralling thoughts. The heat is unexpected; even now, Apollo can feel his toes going stiff from the room’s chill. 

“I am well,” he hears himself say, distant like the clanging stallion hooves which carry the rider’s prize deeper beneath the earth. Father does not let him go when he tries to escape. He does not tighten his hold either. His hand merely remains on Apollo’s slim shoulder, a point to anchor him here and not there. Apollo focuses on the faint hum of his father’s power, the gentle whistle of his cloud-hairs as they flow about his head, the muffled shuffling of his crows’ feathers as they settle in the gables to await his return. He no longer hears her. Not her, not the dread chariot. He cannot hear a single thing. “I am well.” 

[thequeer07puss]

What exactly IS the Eye of Ra?

Ra, the creator, the Sun, the one who emerged from his own will, once plucked out his eye, worried about the disappearance of his children Shu and Tefnut, and placed it upon his head as the uraeus when it stomped in anger at having been replaced by the Lord. He did so once again, enraged at the disobedience of early humans, and in the form of Sekhmet the Eye of Ra raged until its rampage was stopped by the cleverness of the gods, whereupon she turned into the benevolent Hathor/Bastet. Such stories we heard about the Eye of the creator, the instrument and indicator of his will, but what is she, what role does she have?

The Eye of Ra as an extension of him

As the name implies, the Eye of Ra is quite literally, his eye, a part of him, made from his purest essence. She is the part of him that dwells on earth while he is in the sky and that regulates mortal affairs. Perhaps the “Eye” is not literal, but in the metaphorical sense of her function as a spy or a representative of Ra among humans (the Egyptians were, after all, fans of wordplay). This may be why so many functions of the Eye of Ra are related to human affairs: birth, marriage, love, joy, war, plague, healing…all these functions and aspects to distribute his blessings (and curses) to humanity while he rolls on the back of the Heavenly Cow.

The Eye of Ra as an assistant to him

On the Atet boat, the Lord, his uraeus circling the sun disk shining on his forehead, is not alone. He is attended by a flurry of deities. Among them, Heka with their knowledge of magical words, Sia with their powerful psyche, Hu with an equally prolific tongue, and most brilliant of them all, the Eye of Ra, in the form of Hathor or Bastet, his aide and attendant, his very own daughter, who helps him ride on the back of the Heavenly Cow, and even sometimes IS the Heavenly Cow, in the form of Mehet-Weret, from whose back the Lord brings his light to the world. Her undying fealty is essential to keeping the world running and mortals living.

The Eye of Ra as his consort and counterpart

Depending on who you ask, the goddess Hathor is Ra’s mother, his sister, his wife or his daughter. Similarly, the goddess Raet-Tawy is quite literally a female Ra, Ra as a goddess, an aspect of his Eye that seems to be just him in a female version. Through his Eye, maybe Ra makes himself our mother, as well as our father when he is in Heaven. Maybe the heavenly aspect of the creator feels male, but their aspect on earth is female, maybe the Eye of Ra IS Ra’s form on earth. Maybe Ra’s eye, cares for the world as our mother (for we are Ra’s children and she was the first mother), our shepherd (for we are Ra’s cattle), because she helped to create us as much as Ra did. Maybe she is one of the many, many kas of the infinite mystery that is our creator, one expressed in a variety of ways that blend with each other while staying perfectly distinct.

This last bit actually terrifies me a little. It is a thought that fills me with awe and makes so much sense while tying the rest of my tirade together. The thought of just how vast, how strange and truly unknowable Ra is —how any of the gods is, to be honest— fills me with awe, reverence and a little fear as I contemplate the god that made this world. The one who is male and female on his kas, the one who is our father and mother, whose presence in the sky is the sun, and whose presence on earth is in love, joy, pleasure, healing, but also rage, plague, death and desolation. How versatile in interpretation is the concept of the Eye of Ra, who is a being made directly from him, while being independent and different from him.

[starkidsonnets]

space orphans (looking ahead because i have you back to back)

edward nashton drabble

| contains : light angst

| word count : 1772

| note : i like to think edward likes space. i lowk hate this but i havent posted in a minute so yk ! ! listened to Drifter by Mook and Space Oddity by David Bowie on repeat while writing lmao. not proofread !

Shadows clung to the inky slick of the stormy city, the chill of an approaching winter soaked into the air, piercing his delicate skin and coiling around his bones. Edward curled in on himself, under the thin and tattered blanket with his arms tucked into his shirt, hands cupped over his mouth as he tried to thaw his frozen fingers. 

The orphanage had received a generous donation of books from a nearby elementary school, a gesture sparked by the “Education for Orphans” campaign that had recently captured the community’s attention. After the death of Thomas Wayne, local mothers of schoolchildren had concluded that nobody else was left to care – or even pretend to care – about the poor children, so they took it upon themselves to do what they could. Which included one shipment of twelve books, and four pairs of clearly worn, but still usable shoes. None of them fit Edward, but he was okay with the pair he had, even if the soles were peeling and the aglets of his laces had long since vanished. 

The books ranged from picture books to novels, of which had weak spines and one of the older kids who took an interest in one had it immediately fall apart in her hands as soon as she opened it. 

Edward, truly, had no idea which book he had snagged, just wanting one for himself before they had all been claimed. Sharing was not a commonality here. He couldn’t imagine it being common anywhere – at least not in this city. He had hidden it away, beneath his bed, waiting for everyone to be asleep until he read it. He reached for the volume, its cover faded, title embossed in gold: Oddities of Space: Journey’s of the Infinite. As he opened the pages, a galaxy of words unfolded before him. The prose danced like constellations across the sky, weaving stories of celestial wonders and cosmic mysteries.

“Out beyond the reach of sorrow,” it whispered, “lies a vast and shimmering expanse, where stars are born in clouds of gas and dust, and dreams drift freely like comet tails.” Edward’s heart had quickened as he read. With every line, the weight of his solitude began to lift, replaced by a sense of awe that sparked a flicker of hope within him. He learned of the Sun, a blazing orb that cradled the planets in its warmth, and for a moment he dared to wonder if he could have been cradled by a similar warmth. He read of distant worlds where storms raged and seas of liquid methane shimmered under alien suns, zero gravity which allowed everything out of the atmosphere to float in ways peculiar to the laws of physics… His imagination soared beyond the rooftops of this city, past the smog and sorrow, into a cosmos where anything was possible. Each star, he discovered, was not just a point of light but a beacon of potential, a reminder that even the darkest nights could be punctuated by brilliant glimmers of hope. He wondered how they looked up close. 

“Look up,” the book urged. “The universe is a canvas painted with dreams. Each twinkle a story, each planet a promise waiting to be fulfilled.” Edward imagined his own story, the narrative of his life intertwining with the grand tapestry of the universe. He imagined himself as an astronaut, floating through space, exploring uncharted worlds, the loneliness of Earth fading behind him like a distant memory. He could discover new planets and alien lifeforms, and everyone on Earth would cheer for him, one hundred-thousand miles below. He would walk across the moon, hold a star, and let the sun hold him. He was smart – good at maths and science, and he could learn to build his own spaceship, design his own suit… In a flurry of urgency, Edward dashed to the grimy window, nearly stumbling over himself in his haste. He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, breath fogging the surface as he peered out into the night. His heart raced with anticipation, but instead of the celestial tapestry he hoped for, he was met with an overwhelming expanse of inky blackness. The sky seemed to mock his yearning. No twinkling lights danced above him, no constellations whispered their ancient stories. Just an endless void, heavy and oppressive, stretching infinitely in every direction, the lights of Gotham shining brighter than the stars in their proximity. Edward felt a knot tighten in his chest. It was as if the universe had drawn a curtain, blocking out the beauty, the world away from his own, that he longed to see. Longed to be in. 

Until he saw it. A single star. Flickering dimly, but still visible. Moving.

A shooting star, perhaps? His book had explained these celestial wonders – how they were nothing more than burning streaks of light produced when a meteoroid collided with Earth’s atmosphere, a fleeting moment of brilliance in an otherwise dark sky. But there was a myth that enveloped these phenomena, a whispered belief that they granted wishes to those lucky enough to witness their fleeting dance. Edward couldn't quite bring himself to embrace the idea of wishes; it felt too childish, too fragile in the face of his reality. Yet as he gazed up at the vast, empty canvas above him, the thought lingered in his mind like a glimmer of hope.

If a star like that – blinking and journeying slowly across the desolate sky – can be seen by him tonight, then what else is possible? He felt a flicker of longing ignite within him, a whisper of possibility that brushed against the edges of his heart, just beyond the reach of his frozen fingers.

Edward remembers that night vividly, the way he gazed at the dark sky, longing for the brilliance of stars. In the months that followed, he immersed himself in a world of imagination, spending countless hours drawing spaceships and swirling planets from the pages of his beloved book. Each sketch was a labor of fascination, lines and curves taking shape as he meticulously copied the diagrams, even though the complex mechanics eluded him. Yet, amidst the excitement of discovery, there was a persistent longing that fueled his nightly ritual. Almost every evening, when the world went quiet, he would find a quiet spot by the window, peering into the vast expanse, wishing upon the fleeting trails of light that cut through the darkness. Each shooting star became a silent confidant, a flicker of hope there was something more out there, something bigger than himself, than this orphanage, than this city, carrying his dreams into the cold, unforgiving night. He wished something, anything, for the courage to reach for the stars he had only begun to understand. However, with each wish, there came an embarrassing realization that settled over him like a heavy cloud. Many of the lights he had wished upon were not the celestial wonders he had hoped for, but rather distant planes or helicopters, their blinking lights traversing the sky. The teasing comments from the other children rang in his ears, their laughter echoing off the walls of the orphanage, especially when he was scolded for lingering too long at the window when he should have been sleeping.

Having long given up on ever being employed at NASA, much like a burning star his hope was nothing but a flickering ember in the depths of his cold, hollow heart. The weight of practicality settled on his shoulders, tempered by years of responsibility, rejection… Yet, the yearning to escape – just to leave Earth behind for a moment, to find something worth dreaming for – living for – was as disgustingly potent as ever. With every passing day he spent tethered to the ground by the relentless pull of gravity, a sense of restlessness gnawed at his insides like an insatiable beast. The weight of his surroundings bore down on him, each tick of the clock echoing in his mind like a relentless drumbeat. The screams of agony – his own and those of others – reverberated against the edges of his skull, mingling into a cacophony of garbage noise that felt almost tangible. It was a discordant symphony composed of the bitter complaints and desperate lamentations, the bitching and moaning of every sorry fucker trapped in this godforsaken hellhole, each individual a mere cog in a machine that seemed to thrive on suffering. Their voices blended together in a chaotic chorus, a haunting lament that underscored the bleakness of their existence. They were groveling at an empty sky, a vast expanse vacated by God and wishing stars, pleading for some semblance of compassion or even the faintest hint of pity. The sky above felt like a cruel joke, a reminder of all that was out of reach. Out of his reach. 

He knew he’d never see the inside of a spaceship, or walk across the moon. He knew he’d never hold a star, or be held by the sun. It’s impossible. Delusional. Childish. 

He knew. He really did. 

Shadows clung to the inky slick of the stormy city, the chill of an approaching winter soaked into the air, piercing his clammy skin and coiling around his bones. Edward curled in on himself. Staring at the fuzzy shape of his bookshelf, hazed by the darkness and his own poor vision, he stared at the book. He knew exactly where it was; able to picture the frayed edges of its spine and its pages as thin and delicate as the leaves fallen from their branches, the cover almost completely blank and the golden title reduced to blank indents of letters. 

It was never about taking that giant leap for mankind, not really. Beneath the lofty rhetoric and grand ideals, the mission of venturing into space had always been personal for him. It was about leaving this awful place, a world that felt increasingly suffocating and devoid of joy. As he navigated the harsh realities of life, that ambition shifted into a more primal urge: the desperate need to be free. In his mind, he envisioned what it would be like to drift among the stars, to leave behind the world that wouldn’t notice nor care if he never returned. The thought of floating weightlessly, free from gravity's oppressive hold. It wasn't about achieving some monumental feat for humanity; it was about belonging somewhere.

Somewhere, where the moon would shine just for him, the stars would whisper songs and praises, and the sun would never leave him on a cold doorstep. 

It was about abandoning a world that had forgotten how to dream, the same way it abandoned him. 

[wolgraugorimilir]

I read Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett

Ah, Pratchett, my beloved. It feels good to be back with my ladies: Maiden, Mother, and Crone.

Maiden Magrat – exactly like a 20-year-old witch from the suburbs who talks game on tumblr, but who’s too anxious to be mean to someone in real life.

Mother Ogg – who fucks

Crone Weatherwax – a force of nature. Unyielding as a hurricane, possessing world-shaping magics, like she stared into the eyes of God until he looked away for shame. Who could grab the world by the ear and drag it along until it submitted into a different shape - except she understands that it is best Not To Do That.

As usual, I’m not English enough to really resonate with like of third of the book until out of nowhere it just. Hits.

There’s a scene where Magrat is climbing a tower to stop a wedding – while far away, the city is partying without her. Fireworks burst in the sky: “It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen”

She climbs through the window and stands before a beautiful wedding dress. Then:

“Magrat had dreamed of dresses like this. In the pit of her soul, in the small hours of the night, she’d danced with princes. Not shy, hardworking princes like Verence back home, but real ones, with crystal blue eyes and white teeth. And she’d ~worn~ dresses like this. And they had ~fitted.~

She stared at the ruched sleeves, the embroidered bodice, the fine white lace. It was all a world away from her… well… Nanny Ogg kept calling them ‘Magrats’, but they were trousers, and very practical.

As if that mattered at all.

She stared for a long time.

Then, with tears streaking her face and changing colour as they caught the light of the fireworks, she took the knife and began to cut the dress into very small pieces.”

Not to be trans in public but. Are you. Fucking. Kidding me??? Everything about this. The joy she’ll never reach, muffled by distance, reflected in her tears. YEARNING. Self-destruction. The chasm, suddenly, between what she’s asserted about herself, and what she ~really~ wants. I could scream. How did an old man write this????

The villain is someone who forces people to be happy, and to fit into stories which don’t suit them. Even if it kills them. Her soul is stretched thin by infinite reflections between two mirrors. Inside the mirrors with all her reflections, Granny Weatherwax asks Death, “when can I get out?”

Death says, “when you find the one that is real.”

So Granny looks down at herself, and says,

“This one.”

 Pratchett’s got heart. Like no one else in the game. There’s a reason I keep coming back. Bravo. May the earth lay lightly upon you, old man.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Imagine the Stars

Week #5 Prompt: Constellations | Word Count: 680 | Rating: T | POV: Max | Pairings: None | Characters: Max | CW: Canon Injuries, Recovering After Vecna | Tags: Post S4, Max Thinking About the Stars, A Bit Melancholy, But No Infinite Sadness

Max sprawls in the grass, and closes her eyes. Not that it matters. Dark is dark. It just feels less overwhelming when her eyes are closed. Like things are still the same, even if they really aren't. Not at all. 

It's all just noise at his point: the doctors, the specialists, all saying that she might get her sight back, or at least some of it. But they don't seem sure, are only guessing, she knows that, and she's not betting on anything right now. 

Because they don't know, can't know, how it actually happened. So, finding a treatment might be impossible. It's probably pretty damn hard to fix magical wounds by mortal means.

But it's fine. Whatever. It kind of has to be, since she doesn't really have a say in the matter. She's gotten used to it. The sunglasses and the cane. The constant babying by all her friends. Steve Harrington hovering, mothering, worse than ever before. 

She's not alone. Almost never is. But she sure feels isolated a lot of the time.

Lucas reads to her, but it's not the same. She wants to hold the book in her own hands, let her eyes skim across the text, taking in, or ignoring, as much as her brain is in the mood for at the moment.

El paints her nails, but Max can't see the shock of color, so does it even matter? She gets no joy out of it, not really, but she thinks El does, so she lets her continue. Because it hurts nothing.

They're all laughing off in the distance right now, and she can pick out all of their voices, imagining them just as they were the last time she'd seen them all.

The last time she'd seen anything at all.

She needs to think about something else. Something more manageable. 

The grass. The grass under her is soft and almost cool, and she stretches her arms out, grasping two fistfuls of earth, squeezing. And she feels grounded. Centered, once again.

It's daylight. Mid-afternoon, with the sun beating down overhead. But to her, it could be night. The sky could be the clearest blue, or the darkest red. 

She believes it to be the bluest of blues, these days.

But in her own private cover of darkness, she can also picture the night sky. The same inky, dark blue-black sky that her dad used to point out the constellations in, looking overhead, when she was a little girl. Him, giving their names, their shapes, tracing the paths in which she was supposed to be able to see them. 

Max would look, would study the stars, and while she could find the Big Dipper, that was about it. Could see the double stars that make up the second point in the handle. Could trace the outline of the whole constellation with her finger.

But more often than not for the others, though, she'd just pretend to see what he so easily could. Her dad knew them all, and always told her she'd be able to see them too, when she was older. Now she's older, and she most definitely can't. 

And she may never be able to, not now.

So, she does the next best thing. She pictures the handle of the Big Dipper, counting the stars until in her mind's eye she can see little lines tracing around the stars, stitching them together into something bigger. Something different. All the parts connecting themselves together, making up a bigger whole. 

She did that, too, she knows. In that attic. She sealed her own fate for the greater good. 

And she'd do it again, even if she wouldn't be happy about it. 

They killed Vecna. Not immediately. Not until after there were victims, and damages that may never be undone.

But they're free of that terror, now. Hawkins, and hopefully, the whole goddamn world. 

The world is blue, not red.

And because her friends finished what they started, it's safe for her to lay in the grass, soaking up the sun, while she imagines the stars.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌌

[mischiefandmedicine]

Very Full - Chapter 1: Confrontation at the End of Time

Summary: At the end of time, Loki, guardian of the multiverse, is confronted by Saoirse, his daughter, who seeks answers and retribution for her mother's absence. Their tense encounter reveals a deep well of shared pain and unspoken history, hinting at sacrifices made for greater purposes. Overwhelmed by the truth, Saoirse's anger gives way to a vulnerable quest for understanding as Loki prepares to unveil their story.

Word Count: 2,372 words.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, a hint of someone having died.

A/N: Bear with me as I get used to how I want to lay everything out. This is my first fan-fiction and I loved this story idea. I have a Spotify playlist that acts like a soundtrack for this entire story. For each posted chapter, I'll share a link to songs that I listened to and/or were referenced in each chapter. Enjoy!

Soundtrack Link

This Chapter's Inspirational Music: Can't Fight the Moonlight

---

Previous: Prologue

___

Chapter 1 - Confrontation at the End of Time

In the vast expanse at the end of time, where timelines converged, and infinite possibilities shimmered like echoes of forgotten moments, Loki sat upon a grand throne of his own making. The luminous emerald-colored threads of the multiverse danced around him, woven together in a breathtaking display reminiscent of Yggdrasil, the world tree, all with Loki as the powerful epicenter. His gaze, usually calm and all-seeing, rested upon the glowing strands that danced around him.

            The weight of his existence bore heavily into him. Loki was not the ruler of a once-proud Asgard floating among the stars. He was not the ruler of the nine realms. He had not replaced Odin as king. He was no longer the god of mischief. He was something else and now he sat on his gilded throne, countless timelines in his grasp. They all breathed because of him…because of his sacrifice.

            A subtle longing tugged at the edge of his consciousness, a wistful yearning for connections that once illuminated the recesses of his solitary existence. Memories of love, both found and lost, dance like wisps in the cosmic winds, leaving a lingering ache in the depths of his being. Thoughts of Sylvie, Mobius, and other intriguing friends he had left behind, hovered over him like distant constellations across the sky at the end of time – remnants of bonds forged amidst the tumultuous symphony of his life. Their faces were etched in the mosaic of his recollections, evoking a bittersweet blend of camaraderie and longing.

This was his burden to bear and his alone. For all time.

Loki had carried the weight of his loneliness letting the time pass ensuring the timelines were stable just long enough to give the Time Variance Authority time to achieve what it needed to. But there was no expiration date on these duties. He would remain, lost amongst the emerald-glowing strands, for as long as the multiverse needed him.

            As he contemplated the harmonious chaos before him, a sudden disruption jolted the tranquility. In the distance, Loki could make out a figure, cloaked in shadow and mystery, appearing at the gangway leading to his throne. The hooded silhouette emerged, standing resolute, yet shrouded in obscurity. A voice, tinged with a mix of determination and haunting familiarity, echoed across the boundless emptiness.

            “I am Saoirse of Midgard,” the figure proclaimed, their voice carrying an all-too-familiar power and rage, “and I am here to avenge my mother…and myself.” These words held a cadence that mirrored Loki’s own epithets as he had arrived on Earth to claim the Tesseract. This unexpected arrival, however, resonated with its own sense of purpose and determination.

            The former god of mischief, with his piercing gaze that twisted with intrigue and an inkling of recognition, looked upon the cloaked figure stoically. He did not speak but watched the figure through narrowed eyes as its form remained obscured by the depths of its cloak. For a moment, the silence between them seemed to echo across the infinite expanse that was the end of time.

            Loki, ever the master of words and wit, parted his lips to respond, but the charged atmosphere lingered, pregnant with the reticent turmoil of their intertwined destinies. The impassioned plea reverberated in his ears, a fervent cry seeking recognition from the god perched on the throne.

            In the cavernous expanse where time’s echoes converged, Saoirse’s impatience and rage swirled like tempestuous winds in the silence. The lack of response from Loki ignited a fierce blaze within her, stoking the flames of indignation and uncertainty. Her resolve wavered not; instead, it solidified into an unyielding determination as she flung off her cloak, long black wavy hair draped around her shoulders, held out of her face by a single, solid gold headband.

            “Say something, asshole!” Her voice was laden with raw fury and pain as it boomed across the celestial chasm, punctuating the vast emptiness with a desperate plea. The powers she wielded came with the vocal projection, a manifestation of the strength it took to find Loki and bring herself here to the end of time. Loki himself remained quiet, his gaze unwavering, veiled behind a mask of inscrutable calm, yet he scrunched his nose playfully at the sound of the insult thrown at him.

            In a moment that shattered the stillness and infinite space between them, a manifestation hurtled through the expanse. Down on the gangway where Saoirse stood, a projection materialized – a mirrored image of Loki – crafted from the essence of his cosmic presence. This apparition mirrored his countenance and mannerisms, a visage brought forth from the depths of his consciousness to address Saoirse’s impassioned call.

            Though Loki, in his corporeal form, remained perched on his sparkling throne, he maintained an air of whimsical defiance, an enigmatic smile splayed across his lips. His silence, a calculated choice, teased at the depths of his cosmic power and the intrigue that coursed through his perplexing persona.

            “Asshole? Really, Saoirse?” the projected image of Loki intoned, his voice a melodic blend of playfulness and veiled confrontation. “Impatience does not suit you…daughter.”

            Saoirse’s furious gaze met the illusionary Loki’s, her eyes widening in a cocktail of shock, disbelief, and a glimmer of recognition. The word “daughter” hung heavily in the air as the various glowing emerald strands of timelines floated past the pair.

            “Don’t you dare call me that!” she shouted past the projection towards the corporeal Loki seated on the throne.

            The Loki projection maintained a serene yet arrogant countenance about him amidst the brewing storm. “You seek me out, yet deny what you might be,” he teased, the gleam in his eyes hinting at a cryptic knowledge.

            Frustration etched deeply into Saoirse’s features as she seethed with unresolved emotions. She stood nearly as tall as her father, so she could stare his projection down, eye to eye, reflecting the pain that tore into her as she searched for some semblance of regret in his eyes. “I came here for answers, not games!” she shouted angrily, voice quivering with a potent mix of longing and resentment.

            “Answers?” the projection raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to one side before continuing. “But do you truly desire them, or are you merely seeking a mirror to reflect your anger?”

            Her patience waning, Saoirse’s anger surged forth, fueled by years of the void that her mother’s absence had created. “I want to know why you left her! Why you abandoned us?!” Her voice cracked with the anguished accusation, the tremor betraying the depth of her emotional turmoil.

            The projection of Loki regarded her with an eerie calm. “Blaming me won’t bring her back,” he countered, his voice nearly at a whisper.

            “Your actions, rather, the lack thereof…they led to her death!” Saoirse fought back tears as she fought through the words she had come all this way to say. “In all your infinite power, how could you just let her die like that?!”

            Loki remained speechless, unable to find the words to quiet his daughter as she stood before him, long black hair flowing down her back, framing her face. She was, no doubt, his daughter. The anguish and pent-up rage that surged from within were caused by a father who had seemingly all but cast her aside. As he studied Saoirse’s face, Loki could not help but think that she bore a striking resemblance to her mother; the thought of whom pulled the playful smirk from his face, softening his gaze.

He thought of the movie reel Mobius had shown him of what would become of his own life had he continued along the sacred timeline. All the lives he had destroyed and the Loki he had been when trying to take New York as his own. He did not want that life for his daughter but could not possibly tell her of all he had sacrificed for the sake of the greatness that she could become. He had changed from the angry tyrant demanding his subjects kneel before him. He was something else now that he had taken on the responsibility of keeping the timelines alive.

Saoirse’s anger broke Loki from his thoughts as she materialized a pair of long, thin bronzed blades in her hands in a flash of purple light. “Give me answers, Loki, or I will take them by force!”

As she wielded her blades, her eyes flashing with determination, the tension between them escalated once again. Her blades crackled with energy, eyes reflecting a storm of emotions surging within her. The projection of Loki observed her with a blend of intrigue and caution, a veil of godly poise masking the concealed complexity of his intentions as a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. Pride surged within Loki, a silent acknowledgment of his daughter’s innate strength and proficiency in the mystical arts. But with that sense of pride came a father’s pained recognition of her anguish.

“Saoirse,” Loki began, his voice soft and arms outstretched as if attempting to calm a lion ready to pounce upon its prey. He sought to bridge the chasm between them. “I understand your anger, your pain. But there are truths that remain buried within the complexities of duty and sacrifice.”

“You had a duty to her! To me!” She yelled. “What about that?”

Loki paused, gathering his thoughts amidst the tumult of emotions. His posture sank as he thought of the words that would calm the daughter standing before him ready to take his head off with the gorgeous blades she had conjured for herself. That is, if it were his corporeal self standing before her.

            “You wield your powers with the grace and strength of Asgardian lineage, your grandparents would be so proud,” Loki intoned. Sensing that Saoirse was rightfully losing the limited patience that she had brought with her to the end of time, he continued, “Your mother lives within you.”

            “Oh, yawn!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Next, you’re going to tell me that I remind you of her and that I should be satisfied with that. None of that changes that she’s gone and it’s all your fault!”

            “Daughter,” Loki’s voice held a gentle plea, tinged with regret and a profound longing to ease her pain. “Your mother’s absence is a wound that cuts deeply, a void that cannot be easily filled.”

            He paused, the weight of her accusation heavy upon him. “I cannot erase the pain of your loss, nor absolve myself of the burden that my duties thrust upon us.”

            Saoirse’s face pinched into a scowl upon hearing Loki’s words. His expression softened, a paternal yearning beneath a mask of composure. He was, after all, a god with a purpose. “I do not expect you to find solace in vague resemblances or platitudes. Your anguish is valid and your anger justified.”

            Loki’s projection, an echo of his essence, bore the weight of remorse as it showed on his face. “I sought to protect what remains of our fractured existence, sacrificing what I held dear. But it was not a choice I made lightly, nor one I made without sorrow.”

            A quiet desperation colored his voice, looking at Saoirse with a depth of sorrow mirrored in his eyes. “Know that you are not alone in your pain. I may not have all the answers, but I am here, Saoirse.”

            With the sound of her name falling from Loki’s lips, Saoirse collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face as the blades she once wielded clanged to the gangway floor. The Loki apparition knelt to look his daughter in the eyes, tears forming in his own eyes as he watched her sob. “Tell me, daughter, what do you know of your mother and me?”

            Saoirse took a moment to gather her words before snarling back at Loki, “All I know that she loved you more than anything but neither she nor I were enough for you to stick around.”

            Loki’s face fell. “She didn’t tell you anything about us?”

            “She didn’t have to, Loki. I learned enough from everyone else around me. Loki of Asgard who was burdened with glorious purpose. Loki who rained chaos upon New York. Loki who disappeared with the Tesseract! Am I getting every detail?!” she inched closer to his projection, fire and rage growing within as she continued. “Loki who reappeared years later to con my mother into sleeping with him only for him to disappear when she needed him the most. What good is all this power if you could not use it to save or even be with the one woman who was supposed to be everything to you?”

            Each and every one of Saoirse’s words stung Loki as she shouted them into the endless void. The Loki projection spun on his heels as if to look up at the corporeal Loki who sat upon the throne, infinite timelines in hand, disappearing with a neon green glow. God Loki looked down upon his daughter, tears forming in his eyes. He longed to comfort his daughter, his flesh and blood.

            In a flash of lightning, god Loki used nearly every ounce of magic within him to wrap himself in a tapestry woven together with the strands of time, carrying himself down to the gangway in labored steps until he reached his daughter. Loki, god of the throne at the end of time, keeper of the timelines took Saoirse’s hand, gesturing for her to stand. As she rose, Loki whispered with a single tear falling, “My dear daughter, you don’t know anything.”

            “What don’t I know, Loki?” Saoirse sneered through gritted teeth.

            Loki removed his crown and gestured to a pair of velvet green armchairs he had conjured behind her. “This is going to be a long one. Shall I pour us some tea?”

            “Keep it, I need something stronger than tea,”Saoirse scoffed at the offer.

Saoirse turned to take a seat as Loki wordlessly gestured towards the chairs once more. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

            “I do hear they call me the god of stories on some of the timelines,” Loki said with a smirk to lighten the mood. “This story – the story of your mother and me – it is the best one of all.”

[silverjirachi]

For the ao3 wrapped, how about 17 and 29? =D

omg thank you for asking!! i really need some human interaction rn

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

I keep saying this and will keep saying it again but Colress is my favorite character to write, period. He's only just now started to make appearances in Icarus, but I have written like 80-90% of a fic exclusively about him and Concordia, Ophelia and the King's Madness, which I have a WIP/doc dump post of on AO3. I have already written other scenes of his in Mother Earth, and I have many more planned that haven't happened yet, especially in the upcoming short stories comp because I have a feeling that's where the bulk of he and Maxie's relationship will manifest.

He is so fucking unpredictable and nuanced and it intrigues me. I love watching him ruin things. I love giving him the tools to ruin them. It's like when you're a kid and you spend countless hours meticulously setting up all these little cards or lego pieces and then just go WHOOSH BAM and it all falls apart all in one go. That's how I feel writing him. And I love it. He is my opportunity to knock down my own little sandcastles and stew chaos in my own realms at every opportunity. This isn't even getting into the shit I have planned for him and Looker in Mother Earth. My god. I just love me some cold ress.

I used to struggle writing Archie, but I've slowly grown a new appreciation and understanding of his character, especially looking into where Mother Earth is going. So I'm just gonna give him a shoutout here too.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

I'm torn between the preview I released of the sequel of my hardenshipping fic, Mother Earth and Her Infinite Sky or the one I released for the prequel to Exile//Vilify, Trouble Will Find Me. I had been equally sitting on both of them for a while, and am equally hyped for/proud of both of them. Trouble Will Find Me is a little more niche because it's basically JUST about the Order of the Seers, and little to nothing to do with Astor or the rest of Hyrule, but yet, that's what I kind of like about it. It's basically original fiction, though I'm going to explore some of the lore/worldbuilding aspects of pre-botw's Hyrule, if that makes sense?

If I had to pick just one passage from my Pokemon series, it would be Interlude, II - Lifeline from Icarus and the Blistering Sun. Not only does it mention Colress and really begin to vague at/establish Maxie's troubled past, especially in regards to him, it echoes so many other things in the series and Icarus itself if you read it closely. There's lots to really pull apart there, if you really wanted to. "What sacrifices are you willing to make in order to be successful?" "Near tearing lip to meet the iron in his flesh." I could go on.

There's also another interlude scene in Icarus coming up in a few chapters that I'm very excited about and in the process of writing right now. It's in regards to how Maxie and Archie ended up obtaining the Red and Blue Orbs.

Thank you for asking!!

Fic Asks - AO3 Wrapped

[morsrattus]

The Gods Around Pent: The Lo Fak Gods - Lo Fa

Lo Fa, the Yak Mother, Herd Queen, Giver of Wise Milk

The Cult of Lo Fa (LIFE BEAST EARTH)

The Universe Dragon, Korgatsu, went unto the world and fathered all of the beasts. With the Sky, he fathered the birds. With the Dark, he fathered the insects. With the Water, he fathered the fish. And with the Earth, he fathered many things - and greatest of all were the herd mothers. The greatest of the herd mothers was Lo Fa, Mother of Yaks. She brought forth the greatest beasts, to whom wisdom was granted. These are the yaks, from which the Lo Fak arise, and so they honor her as the highest god.

Mythos and History

Daughter of the Universe Dragon and the Earth, Lo Fa is the queen of all yaks. Her sisters could not match her glory, for their children were not so strong, not so wise, and not so patient. While she did not need humans, humans needed her, and Lo Fa, in her infinite mercy, allowed her children to aid the humans.

However, after the Sun was entrapped and the Darkness entered the world, food was scarcer. Now, humans trapped her children and enslaved them. They killed and ate both those yaks who had chosen to aid them and those who lived free and wild. This could not be allowed.

Lo Fa gathered her children to her and tested their wisdom and their strength. All of them came, even those who had been friends to humans. The bulls who excelled at strength she sent to fetch their father, the Storm Bull, who had wandered away to find his enemy. The cows who excelled at wisdom approached her, and she sang to them a secret song. This song enlightened them, and they stood upon feet and raised up hands, and they wore the faces of humans. These were the first Lo Fak, and Lo Fa tasked them to raise up children, who would care and guide their kin.

The rest of the herd, who had not heard the secret song, asked Lo Fa what their gift would be, if the strongest bulls would gain the power of Storm Bull and the wisest cows would become the mothers of the Lo Fak. Lo Fa walked among them, touching each with her horns. They would hold the life of the world within them, and without them there would be neither strength or wisdom. They would hold the Herd Secret, which was not given to the Lo Fak directly.

The first threat to the Herd came when the Sweet Words Man came. He told Lo Fa that he needed her children. He sang her praises, and he offered silver and gold to Lo Fa if she would promise her children to him. She asked him why he wanted them, and he said that it did not matter, for he would give her all the wealth of the earth.

Lo Fa opened her third eye and looked upon him, and she saw his true face. "You are not Trader. Your name is Greed," she said. "You would chain my children and devour them, but it would not fill your belly. You would take our true wealth and have us eat gold."

Greed snarled, but as he went to strike, the Storm Bull returned with the Lo Fak men at his back. Greed fled before the Storm Bull's wrath. Lo Fa made the Calming Grunt, and Storm Bull did not give chase.

The second threat to the Herd came when the Trader came. He told Lo Fa that he needed her children, for the Man Herd was starving. They would die, if she would not allow her children to resume their friendship. He sang her praises as well, but when she asked him if he would kill her children, he nodded. He told her the truth: that milk alone would not be enough now, and that the Man Herd would need meat to live.

Lo Fa opened her third eye and looked upon Trader. She saw his true face. "You do not lie to me, Trader. But you honor the Man Herd above my children. What price could be worth our lives?" She did not wait for an answer. "I will allow my children who wish to be friends to go to you only if you swear to honor their lives that you take. You must value our lives above silver and above gold. You must honor the herds as you rise in the morning and as you sleep at night. You must pay a price for every life, for every mouthful of milk, for every thread of hair."

Trader had hoped to make something from nothing, as he so often did, but he saw that his fast words would not change Lo Fa's mind. "What must we pay?"

Lo Fa's children stepped forward. "You will pay me homage, and for each life taken, you must birth another. Care for them from the day they are born to the day they die, that they eat better than you do. And if you forsake this, you will be cursed, and I will withdraw my blessing."

Trader swore to this bargain, and this is why humans may keep yaks - and why, if they mistreat them, the Lo Fak will punish them and the curse of Lo Fa will be laid against them. It is also why there are still wild yaks, for Trader could not acquire the entire herd, as he did with lesser cattle.

The third threat to the Herd came when Chaos was born. It was the enemy of Storm Bull, and he ran away to fight it. Lo Fa allowed him to go, for she knew he must fight Chaos. However, now her herd had fewer protectors. Wolves and leopards came, taking those who strayed.

Lo Fa taught her children a new song. It moved strength up from the earth, through their unity, through their bones, through their herd. When the wolves came, she had her children sing the new song. This was the Song of the Dragon's Bones, and it gave the herd new strength. When wolves trapped one of them, the rest moved to stop them. When a calf was in danger, the herd moved as one. And when one stood against many wolves, the herd gave her strength.

The wolves tried to take a calf, but the herd sang the Song of the Dragon's Bones, and they had the strength of many. The wolves fled, seeking easier prey.

The fourth threat to the Herd came when the Son of Dragons built a great city. He had been the son of Korgatsu, a brother to Lo Fa, but he rejected his kin, for he envied the sons of Man. He said to the Lo Fak: "You are both beasts and men. You are half of one thing and half of another, and this makes you weaker than both. You must choose: are you yaks? Or are you men?"

Lo Fa made the Sign of Korgatsu, but the Son of Dragons did not recognize it. He was blinded by his own strength, by the crown he had been given. She said: "You look at my children and you see two things?"

The Son of Dragons pointed at the Lo Fak. "I see men." And then he pointed at the others in the herd. "And I see yaks." He turned and pointed, and the Herd saw his palace rising in the distance. "This is a thing of men, who stand above the beasts. Will you keep your children from the gifts of men?"

Some of the Lo Fak were tempted, for they saw the power in the Son of Dragons. But Lo Fa knew: her children must not stand above each other. They would forget their mother and their sisters, if they did. They would consume their own kin, and bind them in chains.

Lo Fa stood tall and made the Sign of Korgatsu again, and she opened the eyes of her children. "You are a kinslayer, Son of Dragons. Your palace is built on a foundation of bone, and it is the bone of your mother." The Herd saw that this was true. "You are a slaver, Son of Dragons. Your palace was built by slaves, and the slaves are your cousins." The Herd saw that this was also true. "You would raise my sons to be princes and build their palaces with my bones. You would raise my daughters to chain their sisters, to eat their flesh and bind their souls."

She sang the Song of the Dragon's Bones, and the Herd gathered behind her. Her horns shone with the black glory of the mountain, and she pointed down at the Son of Dragons. "Go now. You ask us to choose, and so I do. We are yaks: we are the Herd, and all of us are the Herd. You are man, and no longer kin to us. Leave us forever. Once, you were my brother, and for that I will not hurl you into the grave you call a palace - once. Do not return." And the Son of Dragons left, cursing the Lo Fak. This is why those who followed him, who settled in the cities of the Dragon Emperor below, are no longer kin to the Lo Fak: they are men, and they are not yaks. They are the worst of men, for they chose to betray their mothers and their grandfather, the Universe Dragon. The Lo Fak have never forgiven the Kralori for this.

And at last, the final threat to the Herd came. He was the Devil, the face of Chaos, and the enemy of all life. He sought to destroy the world, not for any reason but for evil alone. All of the world stood against him, led by Lo Fa's own husband, the Storm Bull.

It was not enough. The Devil defeated them, though they fought bravely. One by one, gods were slain. One by one, men and beasts were destroyed. Storm Bull slew many of the Devil's servants, but even he was not strong enough. Lo Fa saw this, and she understood.

She went below the earth, into her own mother's womb, from which all life flows. She laid down her sons and daughters, those with four legs and those with two, and she led them in song. As they sang, they fell into a sleep like death, sending their life into Lo Fa. And the song was joined by their siblings, the herding beasts, who gave to it. And the song was joined by their cousins, the plants, who gave to it. And the song was joined by their uncles, the mountains, who gave to it. And the song was joined by their aunts, the hills, who gave to it. And Lo Fa's mother, the Earth, showed Lo Fa the final notes, and Lo Fa opened a secret way.

She sang, sending her life through the secret way, until she could sing no more. Her life and the lives of her kin - the mountains and the hills and the plants and the herding beasts and especially the sons and daughters of Lo Fa, the yaks - these flowed through the secret way and into Storm Bull. This restored him, for where he was power and rage and the killing of Chaos, Lo Fa is life and wisdom and understanding.

And the Storm Bull stood, guided by understanding. He raised his hands, shown truth by wisdom. And the Block fell and bounced and leapt into his hands, and with the strength that is life itself, he slew the Devil with it. And in that death, he let out a bellow.

And in that bellow was Lo Fa's song, and that song was Life, and with its power did the Universe Dragon awaken, showing Spider how to bind the Devil's soul in her web as the Block bound his body. Thus was the world remade, because of Lo Fa. Thus was the Herd kept safe, because of Lo Fa.

Nature of the Cult

The cult of Lo Fa is the central cult of the Lo Fak, and the most important within their entire society by far. The majority of Lo Fak are members of the cult, and its leaders are the leaders of the Lo Fak clans. It is not the only cult within Lo Fak society, but it is the largest and most powerful.

The chief domain of the Lo Fa cult is management of the Herd, which covers both the two-legged Lo Fak and their four-legged yaks. Maintaining the Herd's safety, fertility and health is the most important thing for the Lo Fak, and the cult of Lo Fa therefore controls when the clan moves between settlements, what their priorities should be, where to graze the yaks, and essentially anything else that could contribute to the prosperity and health of the clan and its yaks.

The Lo Fa cult raises and trains the clan's children, as well, and while most members of the cult are generally not warriors, the warrior subcult of Bos, Lo Fa's strongest son, are capable fighters, if less focused and powerful than the Storm Bull cult. Nearly every aspect of Lo Fak life is at least touched on by the Lo Fa cult's influence.

Depiction

Lo Fa is depicted by the Lo Fak as a golden-haired yak of immense size. Sometimes she possesses a human head, sometimes not. She always has ribbons and bells in her fur, and a stone sphere between her horns. Her udder is always heavy with milk, and she is frequently attended by both two-legged children and calves.

Lo Fa is only very rarely depicted in two-legged form. When she is, she has white hair woven with ribbons and bells, and she wears a golden robe which bears a brown Earth Rune. She, like all Lo Fak gods and heroes depicted in two-legged form, still possesses a pair of horns.

Runes

While Lo Fa's mother is the Earth, and she does retain some power over it, particularly the mountains, she lacks the broad power that her mother holds. Instead, her power is focused more through the Life Rune, from which she brings forth healing, fertility and food, and the Beast Rune, which manifests as the true power of the yak, which she rules above all others. :LIFE: Lo Fa is a goddess of motherhood, food and health, and her power over the Life Rune is commensurately broad. Initiates have been known to use the rune to, among other things, ease childbirth, bless calves or children, heal the wounds of yaks or humans, increase milk, cheese, or yogurt production, command yaks, transfer strength between willing people and yaks, induce lust, strengthen those who defend the herd, grant fertility blessings, or find edible plants. Those strong in the Life Rune tend to be maternal, protective, and conservative. :BEAST: Lo Fa's command of the Beast Rune is absolute when dealing with yaks, and no other creature. Initiates have been known to use the Beast Rune, among other things, to rear and train yaks, to ride yaks, to speak to yaks, to transform partially or completely into a yak, to heal yaks, to command yaks, to grant fertility to yaks, to make things from yak wool or milk, to help yaks survive with less food, to breed strong yaks, or to strengthen yaks. Those strong in the Beast Rune tend to be direct, distrustful of humans, and tough.

:EARTH: Lo Fa has only limited command over the powers of the Earth, focusing around their connection to life and the mountains in which she makes her home. Initiates are known to use the rune to, among other things, bless or curse yaks and cows, draw strength from the earth, shield against physical or magical attacks, transfer their strength to others, bless or curse grazing areas, move safely through mountain regions, or hide in mountain caves. Those strong in the Earth Rune tend to be calm, careful, and indirect.

Opposed Runes

Lo Fa opposes the Man, Death, and Chaos Runes.

Particular Likes and Dislikes

Lo Fa's closest ally is the Storm Bull, her husband. He obeys her in all things, save for the destruction of Chaos, where his passions can overwhelm even his obedient love. She is close with the Earth Mother, who birthed her and taught her children the secrets of the Earth Witch. One of her sons went to the lands of the Praxians and joined them, giving up his beast nature to aid his human friends. His name is Waha, and he is the most trusted human god for Lo Fa, for her promised not to teach his followers how to kill and eat yaks. (Or, at least, so say the Lo Fak, who point to the Praxians not riding or raising yaks as proof.)

Lo Fa's greatest enemies are the Dragon Emperors of Kralorela, the inheritors of the treacherous Son of Dragons. He betrayed his kin and his followers now often lead attacks on the beast peoples of the mountains. They cannot be trusted.

Other human gods are viewed with distrust, though the Pentan gods are given more respect than most, as they negotiated a peace with Lo Fa and treat her children with respect.

The last great enemy of Lo Fa is Chaos, and all Chaos gods are to be distrusted, avoided, and if necessary, fought. While the killing of Chaos is the domain of Storm Bull, he is supported by Lo Fa in this.

Cult Organization

Each Lo Fak clan maintains a separate and independent cult of Lo Fa. These cults maintain their own traditions, which vary based on the clan's own history and the specific breed of yak that they are part of. Some things, however, are universal to these cults. They are always the leading cult of the clan, with the clan's high priest effectively being the clan's main leader, though she is always advised by a council of elders, priests and other important figures in the clan. The cult is always heavily matriarchal, though men are not forbidden from joining. They are, however, generally unable to achieve leadership positions outside of the martial or mystic subcults, in keeping with the Lo Fak views of masculinity and femininity. Worshippers from other Lo Fak clans are able to worship at the temples and shrines of any clan's cult, regardless of differences in local tradition.

Priests

The Lo Fak priests are known as the Herd Tenders or the Wise Mothers, even if male. Rank usually correlates to age, and all priests above the lowest rank must be parents - the childless are not permitted to advance beyond the lowest position, though adoption of a child counts. Each clan maintains its own restrictions and requirements beyond this, though most Lo Fa cults do not maintain extensive official ranks. In theory, most priests are equals, although in practice, prestige and respect create an informal hierarchy. In most cults, there are only three official ranks: the Low Priests, consisting of the childless and those still in training, the Priests, and the High Priest that leads the cult.

Center of Power and Holy Places

In theory, the most sacred place of Lo Fa is the place where she went into the earth and laid herself down - the Paps, in the wastelands of Prax, west of the Shan Shan range. However, most Lo Fak never make the pilgrimage to that distant place, where Lo Fa is known by the human name Eiritha. It is generally held that while it is the sacred body of the goddess, she meant for her children to remain in their original home, to care for the mountains in her absence, while she aided the rest of the world.

The Shan Shan mountains are home to many sacred places, however. The mountains are kin to Lo Fa, born from the Universe Dragon, and many of the peaks are home to her divine children. These mountains bear their names and are often said to be the divine bodies of the gods, including Bos, Ganang, Mai Wa, Jeelong, Dzo, and other names well known in the Lo Fa cult as patrons.

Several grasslands, particularly in the north, are considered sacred to Lo Fa. These mark the places where she and her daughters performed great deeds, and are always highly fertile with good grazing.

Most sacred sites are traditionally held by specific clans in their semi-nomadic cycles, but sometimes clans conflict over control of them, especially when grazing has been poor and the clans must modify their traditional patterns.

Initiates

Initiates of Lo Fa must possess one of the Earth, Beast or Life Runes at 1W or higher. They swear to defend and guide the clan and herd, to obey their elders, and to honor their four-legged kin as equals. Most Lo Fak are initiates of the cult, and dedicate much of their time to caring for the clan and herd, both the two-legged and four-legged yaks.

Holy Days

The holiest day of Lo Fa is the Life Giving Day, on the Clay Day of Earth Season's Fertility Week. This is the day on which Lo Fa gave her life to Storm Bull so that he could defeat the Devil, and the day on which the world itself was renewed. It is a day of great celebration for the Lo Fak, featuring huge feasts and many competitions, including yak races, cheese and yogurt competitions, and singing contests, as well as important festivals to renew the grazing lands and restore life to the mountains.

Every Clayday is a sacred day for the honoring of the herd, and much of it is spent going through the yak herds to check their health and wellbeing individually, as well as performing rituals to honor Lo Fa and the clan's ancestors. The Clayday of each Fertility Week is especially sacred (besides the Life Giving Day in Earth Season, which is noted above), and always features major sacrifices and rites to honor Lo Fa and uphold the responsibilities of the Lo Fak to the mountains.

Sacrifices

Lo Fa particularly loves clarified butter, and the best butter a clan produces is always reserved for the goddess. Wool goods are also common as sacrifices, as are clay goods and ceramics. Goods made from horn and bone of particularly honored yaks may be offered as well. The Lo Fak never sacrifice yaks to any god, for they are considered full kin, and animal sacrifices are rare in general and never offered to Lo Fa.

Subcults

There are a vast number of subcults to Lo Fa, most of which are dedicated to the ancestral heroes who founded the clans and were parents to specific yak breeds, or to great heroes in the history of those clans. These tend to be highly localized to specific clans However, a number of the direct children of Lo Fa are also honored in most cults across all clans, forming the basis for much of Lo Fak society.

Bos, the Strong Son (BEAST DISORDER) Bos is the forefather of the Grunter yak breeds, and the warrior son of Lo Fa. He is calmer than his father, the Storm Bull, but he exemplifies what the Lo Fak consider to be proper masculine traits: he is obedient, strong, and competitive. He is the herd guardian, defending his wives, sisters and daughters with violence. In youth, he was adventurous and aggressive, and as he grew older, he settled down, though he retains the belligerent power of youth when needed. His followers may use the Beast Rune to fight in defense of the herds, to excel in marriage competitions, to obey the orders of wives or mothers, to steal domestic yaks, or to fight in yak form. They may use the Disorder Rune, among other things, to fight with axes or spears, to assert dominance over males, to smash barriers, or to perform feats of physical strength. Bos grants access to the Emperor Breaker Feat.

Ganang, the Wise Daughter (BEAST TRUTH) Ganang is the mother of the Small Horn yak breeds, and while she is the largest of her sisters, she has the smallest horns, for she traded her ivory for knowledge. Bit by bit, she gave up power for secrets, which were a power all their own. Thus, she brought to the herd the knowledge that humans sought to keep for themselves. She taught them to weave, taught them the secrets of dung's fiery heart, taught them how to reveal lies and deceptions. And the greatest secrets she taught to her children, the paths that sought out the Universe Dragon's own secrets, concealed by the cosmos. She is the sage, the wise mystic, and she traveled far from the herd to learn many things. Her followers may use the Beast Rune to speak with any kind of animal, to weave, to make fuel from dung more effectively, or to find traces of dragon secrets. They may use the Truth Rune, among other things, to detect lies, to reveal hidden truths, to remember history, or to ask riddles.

Mai Wa, the Kind Daughter (LIFE) Mai Wa is the mother of the Thick Belly yaks, and she was the fattest of her sisters, producing the thickest and best milk. She gave of herself often, traveling among the herds and healing the sick and injured. She taught the Lo Fak how to raise two-legged children, who needed more care than four-legged ones, and how to preserve food. She taught them the best yogurts and cheeses, which plants would heal injury, and how to keep the herds warm and fed in the harsh winters. Her followers may use the Life Rune to heal diseases, to tend edible plants and fungi, to preserve and prepare food, or to help the weak or injured survive harsh conditions. Mai Wa grants access to the Milk of Love Feat.

Jeelong, the Enduring Daughter (EARTH) Jeelong is the mother of the Long Neck yak breeds, and she has some of the widest horns of all her sisters, as well as the straightest back. She traveled through the Shan Shan mountains, guiding the Lo Fak to the places it was best to live, and she withstood great dangers throughout. No wolf could harm her, and no other could outpace her in the mountains. She knew the secrets of stone and clay, teaching the Lo Fak how to make pottery and other tools they needed, and how to build villages and monasteries. Her followers may use the Earth Rune to make things from clay or stone, to survive or travel in the mountains safely, to endure privation and harsh weather, or to command beasts of the mountains. Jeelong grants access to the Enduring Fangs Feat.

Dzo Mo, the Clever Daughter (LIFE COMMUNICATION) Dzo Mo is the mother of the Man Friend yak breeds, which are also called dzo or khainag. These descend from her pairing with the simpler cattle that had been fully tamed by humans, for she was fascinated by these creatures and sought to understand them. She traded some of her secrets to humans in return for their own, making alliance with Trader and working with him to mother the Man Friends. In this way she learned the secrets of trading, of making things from nothing, and of the wealth that men crave. Her followers may use the Life Rune to prevent violence, to bless livestock, or to display the strength and power within livestock or goods made from them. They may use the Communication Rune to speak with foreigners, to trade with outsiders, to tell how valuable goods are to someone, or convince others to deal peacefully.

Devotees

Devotees must have 11W in one of the Earth, Life or Beast Runes, and as normal, must completely give up all powers not derived from Lo Fa, with all normal restrictions. They may belong to only one subcult.

Common Lo Fa Feats

Emperor Breaker (BEAST) Many times, the Son of Dragons sought to punish the Lo Fak for their defiance. When he came to destroy Korgatsu's Fang to display his power, Bos stood against him. The warriors of Kralorela were terrible, armed with the stolen strength of the dragons, and they shouted, but Bos bellowed back, and the warriors behind him were fearless. Bos raised his horns to the sky and charged, and the dust raised by his hooves blinded the Son of Dragons. He tossed Kralori about like dolls, and none were spared his wrath. The Son of Dragons brought his dead soldiers back, their bones tearing out of their bodies, and they struck back at Bos. He did not falter, though his flesh was torn to the bone. He smashed them to dust, for then they could not stand again. The Son of Dragons himself was wounded, so he spoke a terrible curse, which he placed in a delicious flower and left for Bos, retreating to hide. Bos saw the trap, and knew that someone weaker would eat it if he did not. He took the curse into himself, crunching it with his mighty teeth, that it might not curse the herd. It was terrible and twisted his insides, but no one else was hurt, and at last he shat out the curse. Bos suffered terribly, but he burned the curse-dung and it shone with brilliant light. No other suffered its power.

Enduring Fangs (EARTH) When the Darkness grew deep and terrible, the herds had to move often, seeking new grazing. Always, they were harried by wolves and leopards and hunters, for all creatures starved. Jeelong was unafraid, though her sisters trembled in fear, and her daughters begged for safety. Jeelong sang a calming song, and she went forth into the wilderness. Where she stepped, the grass bowed to make a path for her. Wolves tore at her flesh and leopards snapped at her tail, but she did not falter. Their fangs blunted against her, and she ignored the pain. Where she walked, the herds were not attacked, for the wolves and leopards had their fangs blunted. The hunters laid traps for Jeelong and peppered her with arrows. The mountains whispered to her, and she knew where to step, that no trap caught her. The arrows struck her, but she sang a soothing song, and her daughters could not see her pain. The herds followed after her, and none were taken by hunters, for they stepped where Jeelong stepped, and the hunters ran out of arrows. At last, Jeelong brought the herds to a new valley, where there was safety. She laid down there, and she sang a new song. Her blood flowed into the earth, and it made the grass grow thick and tall, made the moss grow strong and the lichen hearty. It was a long time before she could stand again, and her daughters had to care for her and feed her, but the herds were safe.

Milk of Love (LIFE) Mai Wa was sought after by many suitors, for she was fat and thick - a good mother and a good wife, who would lead well. This meant many fought, and many were wounded among the herd guardians, though, and this pained Mai Wa. Surrounded by the wounded, she wept for love of the herd. Her tears were milk, rich and thick, and her milk was blood, strong and hearty. Mai Wa walked among the injured and fed them her milk and anointed them with her blood. Those who drank felt no pain, and those she marked had their bones mended and their flesh sewn together. At last, she reached the strongest warrior, who had fought hardest for her. She embraced him and placed around his neck a bell and upon his horns a ribbon. She wept for him most of all, and kissed him. Her tears healed him completely, and her blood shone upon his forehead. He stood again, stronger than before. They were wed, and Mai Wa's lover could not be harmed while she stood by him. He never again started fights, for she would weep when he fought, but he never again lost one while she did.

Queen of the Herds (BEAST) None can gainsay Lo Fa among her children, and even her husband cannot stand against her, despite his rages. When the herd needed to come together, they would look to Lo Fa above all. When Trader came to ask for her children, she looked into his heart and saw what he truly wanted. She made this plain to her children, and only the children who truly trusted him left with him. When Son of Dragons tried to separate the herd into men and beasts, Lo Fa stood against him. She pierced through all his lies and saw his true meaning. When she denied him, her children stood with her. When the Devil stood against Storm Bull, Lo Fa asked all her children to give their life to her, that he might be defeated, and not even one denied her. The Queen of the Herds cannot be disobeyed in times of need, and needs give no orders in times of plenty.

Song of the Dragon's Bones (LIFE EARTH) This feat can be learned through either the Life or Earth Rune. When danger came to the herd, Lo Fa knew that her children were not always the strongest warriors - alone. She would sing the Song of the Dragon's Bones, and all the herd would gather. The more there were gathered, the greater the song, as all would sing with her. Their strength would flow through their feet into the earth, and through the earth it would enter the champions of the herd, the warriors who stood at the fore. Their horns shone and gleamed black in the light, their muscles were like mighty oaks, and their teeth were thick as stone. The strength of each was magnified, and the more of the herd that sang with Lo Fa, the greater it became. When the herd came together as one this way, no enemy could stand against them.

Divine Retribution

Any Lo Fak who eats the flesh of a yak is cursed by Lo Fa, for they deny their kinship. They are struck with a terrible wasting disease, and spirits of bad luck follow them wherever they go, lashing out at them and anyone they meet. The only way to atone for this grave sin is to undertake a great quest assigned by the clan's high priest and to offer up a great sacrifice to Lo Fa, begging her forgiveness for kinslaying and cannibalism.

Those who break oaths to their clan or otherwise betray their fellows in lesser ways are instead struck by the Milk Worms. These evil spirits crawl out of the earth and into the guts of their victims. Whenever the victim drinks milk or eats yogurt, cheese or other dairy products, they are struck with terrible gut pain and diarrhea. The Milk Worms can be driven away by a shaman's spiritual aid or by the blessing of a high priest of Lo Fa, though both generally require a show of good faith and some kind of atonement.

[true--north]

I'm still seeing this question from time to time: why Elsa is the Fifth Element or more specific, why ice since it is just a solid water?

Water is known as the element crucial to all life and living. In Frozen verse( and in some real world theories) it can carry the knowledge/markings of what and where it has been through. It is everywhere, in everyone. Some say that certain words or music can affect the structures of water. Scandinavian myths tell about the rivers of ice and the fire sparks from which the living world appeared. Finnish Kalevala tells about the world of infinite water and the heaven duck who was swimming there at the beginning. In the Torah we see "the spirit of God moving upon the face of the waters".

So, water is important.

But closer to Elsa. Ahtohallan is known as the source of Elsa's magic, "Elsa's source". Elsa said "Ahtohallan is frozen". You see? The source of magic and truth in the film named Frozen, the film that is about the ice magic is a frozen glacier. But it's not just some place, it is a seita/sieidi(Saami sacred Natural object).

We also know that Ahtohallan is a dwelling of a mysterious Spirit with the same name. In various Frozen sources she is called Mother Spirit, White River, Mother of All Spirits, Mother full of memory. From the Shipwreck Manuscript we know that she created the elemental spirits and sun that gave life to the Earth. So, she has the power and authority over other spirits. (They were so surprised to see her special sign in the sky.)

Ancient Northuldrans knew about Ahtohallan (and later included the prophecy of the Fifth Spirit in their folklore) but then something unknown happened and she and her glacier were lost/almost forgotten. Then the idea of the Fifth Spirit appeared, the idea of someone who can manifest these powers, who can be the mediator and representative, who can harmonise Nature. (Mattias also would add "perhaps to make up for the actions of the people") Yelana indirectly referred to Ahtohallan as to "Nature" that rewarded Elsa with magic, and said that they trust and listen to her.

Icy Ahtohallan incarnated her magical powers of ice into Elsa, and that's why Elsa's ice can tame elementals, can create living things, can create various of nonliving things, can revive memories and who knows what else she is able to do. Because Ahtohallan could do all this before, she is a living entity and that's why this Magic of Nature is affected by Elsa's living emotions, and itself can feel as Elsa said to Anna after Into The Unknown, "my magic can feel it. I can feel it." (As if the magic feels the kinship with Ahtohallan, and Elsa herself feels Iduna's plea.)

The Fifth Element of Frozen given to Elsa is ice because it's Ahtohallan element and a divine power.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Teen and Up Rated Fics Masterlist (24)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 /Part 19 /Part 20 / Part 21 /Part 22 / Part 23 /

Last Checked:—-

Moonlight Kisses-Buttercupbadass (ao3) Summary: Sometimes you think you have everything you ever wanted then the one you can't live without walks in your door. Much Too Far To Go Alone-dracoisalooker76 (ao3) Summary: "We all get addicted by something that takes away the pain" (Belle Aurora). Modern AU. Grey's Anatomy Inspired. Not a Walk in the Park-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta try desperately to keep the peace as their daughter Lily is getting ready for a date and their sons are giving her a hard time. Not One Moment-C_r_roberts (ao3) Summary: I wonder if he knows. Does he know how grateful I am to have him–the real him–back in my life? He tempers my temper. He makes me laugh, even when I don’t want to. He makes me feel safe, even when the entire world feels dangerous. And most importantly, he makes me feel good again. Alive, even. With Peeta, I want to keep living. Growing together. Canon-compliant. Of Buttercup and Mistletoe-Alliswell (ao3) Summary: Bring out the popcorn and hot cocoa, because this one is just chock full of Everlark Christmas shenanigans! One Moment More-dracoisalooker76 (ao3) Summary: "He stumbles up, a tiny little thing in clothes a size too big that are obviously hand-me-downs from his two brothers, and when he stands beside Katniss I see that they’re the same height. Effie Trinket is trying but she can’t hide the look of devastation she holds, clearly upset that Peeta isn’t eighteen and handsome and able to get her out of this mess." When the mine accident does not occur, the Everdeens are forced into a different sacrifice.  One New Message-HGfanonezillion (ao3) Summary: Peeta and Katniss are Tumblr mutuals who have told each other nothing about each other irl, especially not their real names. Little do they know that Katniss is set to inherit her family’s big chain bakery business that’s slowly encroaching on smaller bakeries like Peeta’s family’s corner shop. Open Window-burkygirl, Peetabreadgirl, Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Peeta Mellark's quiet life is changed forever when a mysterious woman moves in upstairs, filling his world with music. Based on the OTP Prompt - Imagine your OTP as neighbors. A tends to sing at night and normally B would complain but their voice is really nice and they often find themselves comforted by it. One day, A’s songs start becoming more and more depressed and sometimes they’d stop because they were crying. B gets worried and starts talking to A to cheer them up/find out what’s wrong. Turns out A’s partner cheated on them/family member died/whatever and they’d started feeling a little depressed. A and B become close friends and after a while, A starts singing love songs at night. Operation Toast (an Everlark Text Fic)-Alliswell, AlwaysEverlark, JHsgf82, MegaAuLover (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta haven’t seen each other since High School...until their friends decide it’s time for them to acknowledge their old feelings. Paint a Sky and Stars-authoresskika (ao3) Summary: Post-Epilogue Canon; "Difficult as the baby might be, Peeta wants him to enjoy the same sort of holiday magic his big sister gets. But therein lies the problem of a fretful infant: what does he want for but his mother's breast and a comforting embrace? His needs are infinitely basic. So how on Earth can those be made special enough for a gift?"