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sillyboycam · 3 months ago

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“I would bring you rings of gold, I’d even sing you poetry!”

“Oh would ya’?~”

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I told you they’ve been on my mind.

Oh yeah, I also watched one of my favourite movies httyd2 and y’know… got a little into it as usual..

I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while, definitely before I watched httyd2 but AFTER watching season 2 of Arcane I decided “Man, this would make a GREAT drawing” .

And here we are!

Anyways this is a sort of “Au” I’ve made, Viktor as Valka, leaving and everyone thinking he’s “dead”.

While I put Jayce as Stoic, because, in retrospect they’re both people of power. Leaders that have a pretty tough life, along with losing their loved one(s). Also, Jayce finally got a beard and you know what Stoic looks like.

Since Valka and Stoic obviously had Hiccup, in my mind I think Jayce and Viktor both adopted a kid to be theirs. (Also to be the next chieftain, since they’re both men of course.) His name is Jekkel, and he’s similar to each of them in terms of appearance. His personality leaning a little towards Viktor’s rather than Jayce’s.

They’d also adopt a little girl named Viyati. (They were especially happy with the name since they picked it themselves) Viyati is the youngest dragon rider of her tribe so far. Her personality is definitely more like Jayce’s as she’s always putting herself and her brother out there. With, of course, boundaries kept in place as Jekkel isn’t usually one to actually want to be out there.

So Viyati always respects him and his needs.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s dragon would be a LightFury,

Jayce’s would be a TimberJack,

Jekkel’s would be a DeathSong,

And (ironically) I think I’d give Viyati a Screaming Death. (ie, smallest little dragon rider gets a big ass scary looking dragon, and it loves her)

>>>>>>

In this Au neither Jayce nor Viktor would die, but, would come super duper close to it many, many times.

>>>>>>

Viktor’s clothes consist of a big white hood rimmed with white tipped red fur, and lots of designs traced onto the hood itself in an off-white.

A black Viking tunic with purple embroidery along the edges and the neckline adorns him, with armour on his chest. Black and scaled.

His arms would be wrapped in white leather from the forearm down, tied in neat bows.

Giant white fur boots with black pants is what he wears on the daily. A spiky belt adorns his sleek waist.

Last thing, he has black scaled arm warmers! In which the white leather wraps around. In a cute bow of course.

>>>>>>

Jayce’s outfit would be a bit more complex, as well as the kids, so if you’d like me to go more in depth I’d be happy too! (Just not in this post, I’m not one to make long descriptions lol)

>>>>>>

Viktor is actually married to Jayce in this one! Their wedding was beautifully done (weeps…) and their rings were gorgeous. This means, the whole family is a Talis!

So that’s; Jayce Talis, Viktor Talis, Jekkel Talis, and Viyati Talis. Also Jayce’s mother, Ximena Talis. She’s a very important figure in the village, a wizard with talents for medicine.

>>>>>>

I have tons of more ideas and I’d love to tell you them all. If you’re interested, let me know!

Anyways this might’ve already been done… but I’m not sure. If it has do let me know! I’d love to chat with that person ;]

Okay,

I hope you enjoy this one!

Love you all

as always art is by me —————> @sillyboycam

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years ago

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Summer Rose - An Ivar the Boneless/Reader Smut Short.

Bit of smut and fluff, some softer Ivar? I was feeling a certain way about him today, so now so can you, too!

Words - 633

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Ivar is a man who wears many faces. The unflinching stare of contempt perhaps being his most famous, or the unnerving grin of a man working four steps ahead of his enemies. For you, though, your favourites are the ones he saves for when the two of you are alone.

The look of sheer bliss as you top him is perhaps the one you love most.

“Fuck, my love. How good you feel around my cock.” The words pour from his beautiful, full lips like wine, his hands grasped tight upon your hips while you work in serpentine against him. His thick cock ruts you fully, hitting every angle, every depth, your body cast in pure gold from the firelight, the sight of you atop him warming his heart as much as it does feed his lust.

For this Viking, he never thought love could match the roaring flare of carnal desire, until he met you. Until you showed him, told him, made him feel it in his very bones. It mingles in waves of ebullient delight, his thumb moving to drag heat across your aching bud, sparks roaring up your spine as you cry out.

“You are always at your most beautiful when you...” he trails off, his words deafened by your ascension, grinning with a deep chuckle as he witnesses it, your complete undoing that leaves you a shaking wreck atop him. “...when you fall apart like that for me.”

Gathering yourself, you continue to roll your hips against him, wanting for his own pleasure to streak through him wildly, his eyes closing tightly as he groans, deep and rolling, whispering curses as the flutters of your cunt make lightning begin to flicker within his depths.

His mouth drops open, panting hard, the icy shards that are his eyes opening to fix you with a lust drenched stare, the thickness of him splitting you wide causing pleasure to spark over your nerves, hitting the heights of a swirling tempest again with him as he fills you with thick ropes of hot spend.

“Gods,” you breathe, fingers weaving through his as you chuckle, “I am tired now.”

“Hardly surprising,” he pants, pulling you to him, offering kisses steeped in soft heat. “Come, love. Let me make you comfortable.” You climb from him, carefully taking to your back, Ivar pulling the pelts and blankets up over your legs, arranging the pillows plumply beneath your head. When he gazes down at you, you feel as if your heart could burst.

He caresses your cheek, nuzzling your neck, his hand slipping down to stroke the rounded swell of your belly, shifting to kiss it. A tiny foot kicks against his mouth. “Child, you dare kick your father in the face?”

Your laughter fills the room, Ivar prodding your bump with his finger, waiting for it. A tiny foot kicks back immediately. “She is all fire, just like her mother.”

Ivar has stated with every confidence ever since you told him you were with child that she would be a girl. He felt it, knew it, he said, that your first would not be a son. Unlike many of his brethren who keen for an heir, he did not care an ounce that your baby would be female. “You will be a fine fighter, a fearless shieldmaiden, my little summer rose. You will be all that your mother is, and so much more. I know this, my tiny daughter. I long for the sun to grace our lands once more, for that is the time I shall meet you at last.”

Watching him talk to your baby, seeing the look of complete adoration as he strokes your belly, you change your mind. Of the many faces Ivar wears, it is this one you love the most.

#ivar the boneless fanfiction #vikings fanfiction #alex hogh andersen #ivar ragnarsson fanfiction #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless x you #ivar the boneless smut #vikings smut

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bravo4iscool · 7 months ago

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i started watching vikings like two weeks ago and this came to my mind😭

(ubbe ragnarsson x fem!reader; lothbrok/ragnarsson family & fem!reader)

(we’re just gonna act like they’re all a happy family and no one hates each other and everyone is a decent human being lol)

(this is also anything but canon, everyone’s alive, no one’s dead and this has like no place in the timeline lmao. this is just my delusions taking over😭. this probably will have multiple parts too (if people want that lol))

(masterlist | join my tag list!)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

you’re standing at the docks, erik on your hip and little ingrid by your side as you watch the ships slowly run into the habour of kattegat.

your daughter is all giddy beside you, just waiting for her father to finally arrive. “where is he mama? where is he?” she keeps asking, jumping up and down in excitement.

“i don’t know, baby,” you chuckle while the first ships arrive at the docks, the men leaving them in a hurry to get off. “i’m sure he’ll arrive soon,” you promise, ruffling your daughter hair.

meanwhile ubbe can’t walk towards you fast enough. there’s a big smile on his face as he keeps his eyes focused on you and the kids. he needs to take you into his arms again, he couldn’t wait.

he calls out your name when you don’t seem to notice him just yet and your head snaps up at his voice. your eyes light up when you finally see him almost running towards you.

once he reaches you he picks you—and erik—up in his arms, spinning you around. “my love,” he mumbles. “i’ve missed you.”

he sets you down again, immediately connecting his lips with your while his arms hold you close to his body. you sigh into the kiss, more than happy that your husband had finally returned.

when erik begins to squeak you both break the embrace. “look at you,” ubbe coos. “all grown up, my boy.” he takes erik from your arms and holds him up before he peppers his chubby face with kisses. “have you been good to your mama?” he asks, grinning when the baby begins to giggle.

“papa, papa!” ingrid starts to jump up and down again, grabbing her fathers clothes. “will you give me a kiss too?” she asks, her voice sweet and innocent as she blinks up at ubbe.

he looks at her and crushes down, “of course, my darling,” he smiles before he places his other arm around her and starts to plant small kisses all of her face.

the little girl starts to giggle, clearly happy that she’d gained her fathers attention. you only look at the three of them, thanking the gods that ubbe had returned home safe and healthy.

“papa?” ingrid then asks. “can i go greet uncle bjorn?” she’s giddy on her feet, looking at ubbe with those big eyes. “pleaseeeeee?”

ubbe looks at you and you give him a subtle nod. “you can,” he ruffles her hair. “but be careful, the docks can be dangerous.” his voice contains a clear warning but he doesn’t know if ingrid heard him because she’s already running off.

she’s quick on her feet as she dodges the people on the docks, searching for bjorn’s ship. once it came to her vision she let out a happy squeal.

bjorn stands on the docks, only seconds off the ship before ingrid launches herself into his arms. “oof,” he just manages to catch her, laughing when he clutches to him.

“i missed you uncle bjorn,” ingrid mumbles against bjorn’s chest, pressing her face against his armour. he tightens his arms around her, just enjoying the hug.

“i’ve missed you too,” he then mumbles. “my favourite niece, eh.” a smile breaks out on his face while he ruffles ingrid’s hair.

she giggles, “i’m your only niece.”

“that you are,” he smiles. “but you’re still my favourite.” ingrid starts to play with bjorn’s beard while he gently rocks her around in his arms. he wasn’t married, he had no kids, so he enjoyed the attention ingrid gave him.

“you’re standing in the way, brother,” a annoyed voice then sounds from behind bjorn and he turns around to see ivar standing behind him.

bjorn sighs and shifts ingrid in his arms. “there’s enough space to walk around me, ivar. don’t be such a baby.”

ingrid tilts her head and looks at the youngest ragnarsson. “hello uncle ivar.” she gives him a toothy smile, waving.

ivar only scowls and stumbles past bjorn and his niece. “do not call me that,” he hisses, not paying them both another glance. as he limps away the smile on ingrid’s face fades and she looks at bjorn with question marks in her eyes.

“why doesn’t he like me? or my mama?” she wants to know, turning in bjorn’s arms to look after ivar.

bjorn sighs again and grabs the back of her head gently to place a kiss on her hair. “you should not think about that, little one,” he softly mutters before he starts to move and walk towards his brother and sister-in-law.

you laugh as ingrid climbs all over bjorn’s shoulders, using his tall and broad frame as some kind of tree while your sitting back against ubbe’s side, erik in your arms. “be careful ingrid, you might fall,” you still warm her though, your eyes trained on her.

bjorn only chuckles and raises his hand to tickle her. “don’t worry about that. i’ll make sure nothing happens.” he winks at you.

“don’t flirt with my wife,” ubbe grumbles at that, still a small smile on his face.

hvitserk laughs and slightly shoves ubbe’s arm at his comment. “at that point, she’s our wife, my dear brother.”

ubbe shoots him a dead panned look before he rolls his eyes. “she’s more like a mother to you than anything else,” he huffs out a small laugh.

you slightly smirk at your husbands comment, patting his hand. “i like it that way,” you smile, standing up when erik starts to fuss around in your arms.

“you keep an eye on ingrid,” you point your finger at bjorn as you start to rock erik and make your way towards the door of the great hall. maybe fresh air would calm him down a bit.

you softly hum to your son, as you walk away from the hall a bit, just until you reach the first fields. “shhhh,” you coo at him, caressing his cheek with your finger.

but no matter what you did, he didn’t seem to calm down.

“maybe you should throw him away,” a familiar voice then sounds and you turn around to see ivar standing a few meters away from you. he’s propped up on his crouch, a permanent scowl on his face.

you let out a small huff and shake your head. “he’s a baby, ivar. he can’t express his feeling yet. sometimes crying is just easier for him,” you explain in a soft voice, continuing to rock erik.

“that’s why i don’t like babies,” he grumbles.

“you were a baby once.”

“i know.” his facial features were still tense as he stared at you, then at erik. “but i’m not a baby anymore.”

you didn’t know why ivar had—most likely—followed you out here. you knew he wasn’t particularly fond of you or your children. you couldn’t recall anything that would make him hate you but in the end of the day, that was how he was.

but even though he didn’t want you in his family, near his brothers, you loved him. he was your husbands brother. by marrying ubbe his brothers became your brothers and you loved them.

you look at ivar and slowly take a step towards him. “ivar,” your voice is soft and gentle as you speak, only erik’s little whines being audible. “why is there so much hatred in your heart?”

he freezes at your question, his eyes boring into yours. “i don’t have a heart,” he then hisses, taking a small step into your direction. “and i don’t need you to act like you care about me.”

“but i do.”

“no, you don’t,” he says, his jaw clenched and his body tense. “you’re lying. no one cares about me, except for my mother.”

you subtly shake your head and walk towards him until you’re standing in front of him. he had his head turned, staring at something behind you. “look at me ivar,” you softly demand, erik suddenly quiet in your arms.

ivar doesn’t listen to you. deep down you knew he wouldn’t but it was worth a try. so, you carefully raise your free hand, leaving enough time for him to pull back, and cup his cheek. “i said, look at me, ivar,” you say again, your voice gentle and calm, soothing even.

“why should i?”

you slowly start to caress his cheek bone with your thumb. “because i want you too see that my concern for you is genuine,” you answer, surprised that he hasn’t pulled back yet. he didn’t like being touched.

slowly ivar lifts his head to look at you, the conflict clear in his eyes. he was acting against all his instincts, against everything he knew.

a small smile plays around your lips as he looks at you. “you’re my brother, ivar,” you start. “and i love you. i care for you. whatever people might’ve done, might’ve said, you’re my family and i keep my family close to me.”

he’s silent while he listens to you, letting your words sink in. barely anyone has talked to him like that before. he wasn’t used to being at the receiving end of such feeling. he didn’t deserve that.

he swallows, “after all i’ve done—”

“i don’t care what you’ve done ivar or what you thought.” you gently pat his cheek before you pull your hand back to shift erik in your arms. “my love is unconditional. and if you never need someone to talk to or someone to listen, even a shoulder to cry on, my door is open. always.”

you get interrupted when you see ubbe walking towards you. he calls out your name, the concern evident in his voice.

“i think that’s my sign to get back inside,” you softly smile before you place your hand on ivar’s neck to pull him down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “think about my words, ivar.”

that’s the last sentence you say before you walk past him to assure your husband that you were alright.

pt.2, maybe a little series???

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #vikings #ubbe ragnarsson x reader #bjorn ironside #ivar the boneless #sigurd snake in the eye #hvitserk ragnarsson #bjorn ironside x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #hvitserk x reader

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laswells-ashtray · 2 months ago

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My dad does this thing on holidays and weekends where he’ll play music (carol of the bells, Viking metal, sirens, etc) on his heavy duty speaker until me and my siblings leave our rooms

John borrows one of Niks speakers one day and chaos ensues

If he wants something from Soap or he's looking for the Scot then he'll very loudly play Rule Britannia so that the sergeant will come storming down the hall to turn that shit the fuck off.

He can lure Gaz in by playing the intro song to the Golden Girls. It's Gaz's mum's favourite show and he likes watching it with her, sue him.

With Ghost he'll just get his phone to read out a message that starts with "You have five minutes before the whole base finds out about the fish incident." Ghost gets there in two.

At Christmas he's playing the classics and noone can stop him: Last Christmas, Happy Xmas [War Is Over], Wonderful Christmastime, Stop The Cavalry, Stay Another Day and everything. It's to try and convince himself he's in a Christmassy moody but the lads also get a kick out of it. After getting the Ghost lore the sergeants worry it might piss off Ghost, he only requests Fairytale of New York and John happily obliges.

#captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #simon riley #john mactavish #kyle garrick

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thedoctorsthings · 1 year ago

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Power to the King teaser

summary: in the capital city of a small Nordic kingdom in the 10th century the king is slowly descending into madness. His wife recently died and he remarries. His sons Yoongi and Jungkook desperately try to keep his destructive tendencies in control while dealing with their own destructive romances.

featuring: crown prince Yoongi, second born prince Jungkook, royal guards Hoseok and Namjoon, druids Taehyung and Seokjin and farmer boy Jimin.

this series will be 7 parts divided into chapters. One part for each member. We'll follow them into their journey of meeting the love of their lives in a 10th century viking settlement. beneath you'll find the trope of each story

Jungkook: Prince x chambermaid (forbidden romance)

Taehyung: Druid x forest nymph (friends to lovers)

Jimin: farmer boy x princess (forbidden romance)

Namjoon: royal guard x barmaid (no idea what trope this is except for king being a destructive dick)

Hoseok: royals guard x druid's apprentice (promised to another)

Yoongi: Crown prince x noble girl (forced marriage/enemies to lovers)

Seokjin: Druid x king's wife (forbidden love, my personal favourite)

disclaimers: angst, smut but only implied never explicitly described, historical inaccuracies (i'm not an expert and i don't have time to do excessive research), lot's of dramatic typical period drama stuff, people getting wounded, war, yearning etc

coming somewhere in february probably cuz i got exams now

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thenameswinterfics · 9 months ago

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Just an introduction post.

I just realized I haven't made an introduction post yet. How silly I am...

Well... Greetings, beautiful people!

Few things to know about me: I'm Winter, I'm 25 years old and I'm from Italy. I'm studying Graphic, Visual and Multimedia Communication at the univeristy and I'm currently in my final year. I'm an INFP, my zodiac sign is Pisces and I'm bisexual.

For a long time I was always on the silent side of fandom, in constant lurking mode. If you see a silent shadow watching over your work, that's basically me.

This is a short list of the fandom I'm in (most actively): The Last Kingdom, Vikings, Vikings: Valhalla, The Wheel of Time, Game of Thrones (with A Song of Ice and Fire content), House of the Dragon, The Witcher, Shadow and Bone, Spartacus, ATLA (the cartoon) Legend of Korra, Merlin, Dragon Age and Baldur's Gate.

In my spare time I also play a role-playing game called "Dungeons and Dragons". I'm mostly a player, although I'm thinking about planning my first campaign as a Dungeon Master. My favourite thing is writing backgrounds for my OC's, maybe I can share them with you in the future.

Just for your personal information, this is exclusively a writing blog. If you want to see my ramblings about fandoms, you can find me on my main blog here (I know, it's quite messy but... hey! That's me, a messy girl!)

A special thanks to my beloved @zaldritzosrose for the icon, banner, mini banners, personal dividers and headers and dividers for my current and future fics! 💜

FIC SECTION

I'm currently writing for Sihtric Kjartansson, a character from the Netflix and BBC show The Last Kingdom. It cannot be ruled out that in the future there may arrive fics from the other characters from the show, as well as from other characters from different fandoms.

I will cross publish my fics on AO3, you can find the links below.

Due to university and personal commitments, and the fact that I'm a terribly slow writer, I haven't planned a regular posting schedule.

If you want to be tagged in my taglist, just send me a DM or leave a comment!

Fic requests are currently OPEN!

English is not my first language. You may find some grammar and vocabulary mistakes. I'm sorry for this, I swear I'm practicing!

It will happen that some of my fics will contain NSFW contents. So, if you are a minor under the age of 18, please DNI.

I never, NEVER give the permission for my works to be translated (I can translate on my own in my native language whenever I feel the need to) or to be reposted in sites outside Tumblr or used in AI chatbots sites.

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON X READER

THE BLUE BUTTERFLY || Words: 4K || Warnings: Fluff, missing scenes, mention of word "whore" || AO3 LINK

After returning from Datchet, Sihtric spends some free time with you, and a group of blue butterflies catch your attention.

VISIONS OF HELHEIM || Words: 6,1K || Warnings: Fluff, angst, missing scenes, mention of past abuse, mention on non-consensual relationship (not described in detail), mention of character death, mention of graphic violence (not described in detail). || AO3 LINK

Sihtric has never forgotten his mother, whose presence continues to haunt his dreams. And as the Battle of Dunholm draws to a close, you help Sihtric mourn her.

HEARTS OF STEEL, LOVE OF SILK || Words: 3,9K || Warnings: Fluff, domestic fluff, smut, bad smut, very very bad smut, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), breeding kink, Daddy Sihtric is a warning itself. || AO3 LINK || 18 + ; MINORS DNI

While you and your children enjoy a peaceful, domestic life in Rumcofa, Sihtric comes up with a pleasant surprise for you.

BOUND TO YOU || Words: 4,6K || Warnings: SMUT, mention of death, monsterfucking, oral (m receiving), fingering, p in v sex. || AO3 LINK || 18 + ; MINORS DNI

Since becoming the new lord of Dunholm, Sihtric has ruled alone, with no woman at his side to call "wife". Things begin to change when you begin to appear in his dreams, a human so perfect that he believes he has finally found the one, a blessing from the gods. Little does he know that behind your appearance lies a devil in disguise.

CAOINEADH || Words: 5,2 K || Warnings: Angst, mention of blood, mention of death, mention of main character death(s), human/monster romance, hopeful ending? , me writing Finan's Irish accent. || AO3 LINK ||

While wandering outside Dunholm with his mother, Sihtric is visited by a creature whose presence brings terrible news to his family. Years later, the Banshee returns to the mortal lands and Sihtric, now grown up and in the service of Uhtred, faces the consequences of a bad omen. But the tragedy also brings them closer together.

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON X OC

Coming soon...

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON CROSSOVERS

Coming soon...

MISCELLANEOUS

Characters

SCIAMACHY || Pairing: Cregan Stark x DragonDreamer!Reader || Words: 4,4 K || Warnings: Angst, mention of death, mention of grief, mention of character(s) death(s), mention of child loss, mention of sibling loss, major spoilers from the book "Fire and Blood" || AO3 LINK || 18 + ; MINORS DNI

As the second child of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn, your father arranged your marriage to the young Lord of Winterfell, Cregan Stark, in the guise of an arranged marriage that would strengthen the bond between your Houses. But you are haunted by visions of a bloody war shaking the Seven Kingdoms, and the seeds of your doubt are sown when your sister's claim to the throne is challenged.

AGAPE || Pairing: Osferth x Reader || Words: 2,9 K || Warnings: Fluff, mild smut, mention of religious guilt, mention of male mansturbation || AO3 LINK || 18 + ; MINORS DNI

Torn between the desire to feel you and the sacredness of his vows, Osferth gives you flowers as a token of his love and devotion, the meaning of his love hidden behind the flower's language. But a scouting expedition beyond Rumcofa's borders forces him to confront the devil who tempts him.

COLLABS

THE LIVES OF FRIENDS || w/ @foxyanon, @legitalicat and @zaldritzosrose || Social Media AU || Warnings: Language, sexually charged conversations, mentions of weed usage, occasional alcohol usage, chaotic family dynamics. || 18 + ; MINORS DNI

Rhaenerys Targaryen has perfectly crafted her life to be everything she's ever wanted, becoming a doctor of history at 26. Her husband, Sihtric, is the most supportive man for her and the pride he has cannot be overstated. Through him, she became friends with his adopted family. Lyanna Stark became a model at 18, and loves fun, her family, and Aemond Targaryen. Then you have Cregan Stark, the "eldest" Stark sibling who runs the family animal sanctuary in Winterfell and has found himself falling for Daenyra Velaryon, Rhaenerys' cousin who dreams of becoming a renowned artist who at times feels her Targaryen heritage more than her Velaryon. And then, there's Alisanne Stark, Cregan's twin, who owns and operates her own bakery and is known for being a workaholic until Aegon Targaryen comes and breaks and changes everything she knows to be true. And these are their lives.

Character used: Daenyra Velaryon (OC)

#welcome post #pinned post #masterpost

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isabelleneville · 1 year ago

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Are there any period dramas you’re looking forward to in 2024?

Hiya,

I will split this into two lists.

Returning Shows:

Being a Penelope girl I am looking forward to Bridgerton Season Three for what I call my soft period drama fix.

I also thoroughly enjoyed Marie Antoinette for what it was so looking forward to the show returning for a second season and how that goes.

Vikings Valhalla season two felt very stale for me apart from Godwin and Emma (oh and Cnut but he needs to be a leading man IMHO), I am waiting with trepidation if it delivers in its final season which I think is a waste because I wanted to see it go to 1066.

The Serpent Queen do I need to say anything more, that show was a f**king hoot and produced by The Hunger Games sequels and prequels director (who also directed Britney's Slave 4 U video btw) it met my expectations.

Being a Tudor girlie I have to obligatory say Wolf Hall but in my honest opinion only for new portrayals of Anne of Cleves and Kathryn Howard (I am not a Thomas Cromwell girlie).

New Projects:

Firebrand being the #1 Catherine Parr girlie I cannot wait to see a new production of her and how they handle her story. I am also looking forward to a younger Catherine than what has previously been portrayed.

King and Conqueror, it is a new show with Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as William the Conqueror and James Norton as Harold, Earl Of Wessex during 1066 (so answering my Vikings: Valhalla wishes) produced by CBS and BBC (CBS owns Showtime). No official release date yet but I am into it. X

My Lady Jane, now Queen Jane Grey has become a fast favourite of mine so anything with her in it I am there.

Dick Turpin with Noel Fielding as Dick, now the Horrible Histories fan in me is squealing (why no Matt Baynton though?).

Mary and George, I feel the Tumblr girlies are going to go miles with this and I just want to see what it is about y'know be part of the fun.

Thanks for the ask!.

#replies #elizadisney

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violet-moonstone · 2 years ago

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favourite character animation styles

Hiccup: Literally any of his character models (except RoB/DoB, oof) are great, but I wish he was equally as freckled through the whole franchise (this goes for all the characters tbh).

Astrid: First movie Astrid is my favourite and RTTE Astrid is a close second - just wish she had more freckles and scars. Movie 2 and 3 Astrid look way too different and airbrushed. Also, I would have quite liked to see Astrid gain more muscle over time. You can't tell me that girl's an axe-weilding warrior with tiny little arms.

Snotlout: RTTE Snotlout is so goddamn cute, I love him.

Fishlegs: Movie 1 Fishlegs is my favourite look for him. REALLY don't like his look in the 3rd movie.

Ruffnut: Looks good in everything, no notes.

Tuffnut: Literally anything except THW. Can't do the head hair/beard thing, sorry.

Dagur: I prefer his character model (and character in general) in RTTE, but I liked his outfit way more RoB/DoB. The skrill armor is cool but looks out of place to me. Not very Viking-y, even in a costumey way.

Heather: tie between RoB and RTTE. Definitely prefer her outfit in RoB.

Gustav: RTTE

Valka: THW - love her outfit and graying hair

Stoick: HTTYD 2 - again, love graying hair. The sunlight shining on his beard looks so good in the opening scene. Also prefer his outfit here.

Gobber: His outfits are pretty consistent throughout the series, so no notes there. Generally prefer his look in movie 1 before things got all shiny.

I cannot overstate how much I dislike the way the dragon armor looks in movie 3. Love the concept, hate the execution.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #violet-moongem

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daenystheedreamer · 7 months ago

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2 & 3 for the asoiaf ask!

2 A minor (or extinct) house you need more lore on

HOUSE HOARE... we have the basics from TWOIAF but i love the evil vikings. also house durrandon. both of them and house gardener get basic "and after king legolas the legless it was king saruman the unsightly" like can we get some fun stuff pwease... also house fisher i want more riverlands lore. love u riverlands. speaking of riverlands house whent too i wanna now the tragedies they were marred by.

3 Favorite sigil/house words

for sigils a bunch cos i cant pick: house corbray and blackwood for the raven realness, toyne and staedmon beautiful hearts, house tarth stunning iconic gorgeous, house dondarrion and dayne cos i like purple. dorne has a bunch gargalen blackmont toland. drumm wynch saltcliffe iron islands slay... greyjoy is my favourite of the great houses i think... the black and gold with the kraken hello showstoppers. there's also this minor house, house hawthorne, which is: "A ring of black thorns and a ring of pink flowers, interlocked, on green" look it up its so good and for this minor house with no characters no mentions no nothing??? sorry i cant pick!!

for words. winter is coming iconic nothing can beat her. house swyft chicken house "awake awake" girl u dont need to commit to the bit so hard no one is laughing. come try me of house plumm okay frat boy. i always think its funny when they REALLY commit to a theme. house waxley of wickenden with candle sigil words "light in darkness". house beesbury of honeyholt with beehive sigil words "beware our sting". penrose of parchments quill sigil words "set down our deeds". this is just three there are so many...

#ask #bubbleteaflan #KISSES sorry i couldnt choose!!!

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 10 months ago

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5, 17, 25, 29

For the ask game, please!

woooo! more asks! Thank you thank you! :D <3

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

Oooh probably a few of the ones listed in the previous ask about fic ideas that I have noodling around in my head.

Off the top, I'll probably not write "Grima Becomes King" even though it would be fun. Mostly because I know it would be the world's longest fic and the idea of writing it makes me feel tired.

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Oh man, many things. What comes to mind is how much I've learned about late antiquity/early medieval Scandinavia for all things Rohan & Grima related.

I think an interesting tid-bit was the gender disparity of infanticide. Not shocking, given how patriarchal Scandinavian society was at the time, but far, far more girls were killed than boys. Also skeletal remains show that in times of famine, boys were given more (and better) food than the girls.

(don't tell tumblr, they're very keen on thinking Viking (tm) society was a world of gender equality and other nonsense)

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

I have! In different ways. For Grima stuff - the scenes where he's forced to eat his horse in My Land is Bare were just - I icked myself writing them. Degradation in general icks me and I always get in a weird headspace after writing it.

I have absolutely made myself cry writing bits of Thus Always. Particularly the death of Downey's father (that chapter has a banger of an ending line: So, in silence they look at one another, truly look at one another, for the first time in thirty years, and in silence Amos dies.) The eulogy appendix also gets me. Annnd this bit with Downey's mother:

Annette catches Downey at the door, squeezes his arm, says, ‘I never understood why you did what you did.’ ‘Why I left? Surely he told you the gory details.’ ‘No, no, I never understood why you chose to…to be like that. Did I do something wrong?’ Downey takes in her weeping eyes, her pain, her sorrow, the mad grief over things she has no words for, and he just shakes his head. Just shakes it and shakes it and shakes it.

the infamous "did I do something wrong and that is why you're a queer" conversation that many people have unfortunately had

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Something from a follow-up fic to Swimming Through Fire world. Two years after the war, a year after Grima and Éomer came to some vague Arrangement, and Éomer's off to go get married. Lucky him.

They're on their way to Umbar as I have Eomer marrying outside Gondor for reasons of regional political cohesion. Safan, everyone's favourite main man from the ROTK installment of the Swimming Through Fire series, makes an appearance.

---

Of course, Safan could have other sources, Gríma reasons. About Éomer. About what he is like as a man. Safan is talented, clearly capable, and trusted—therefore, he is likely to have heard his fill about the future king of Éomarc.

Who is currently standing towards the front of the boat watching the horizon dip up, down, and again again again.

No storm, but the sea roils. Gríma was told it’s the wind, a beautiful day for the voyage, but choppy. Hold fast. Do you know how to swim?

He told the sailor: I can hold my breath for two minutes.

The sailor laughed: that’s a start, I suppose.

No, no, I can swim. I’d just rather not.

Then hold fast.

So, he’s holding fast. He’s watching the water. The surf kicked up, foam white as the froth of churning milk. He thinks he wants to be sick.

What did he have to break his fast? Sweet buns, fruit, cheese. They dine light in the morning in Khephanto, same as they do in Éomarc. A welcomed change from other parts of Gondor where it is blood sausages and eggs and liver and salted fish and fried mushrooms piled high with toast and hot milk and gods the memory makes him more nauseous than he thought possible.

He tries to lean over the railing, thinking it would make sense to be sick into the ocean, but the thought of being so suspended over water—only his head, his shoulders and chest, but still—it sends him skittering away.

Foolish, of course, he survived the river Isen when he fell in. He survived Limlight more than once as a boy. He’d be fine until they fish him out.

Provided they fished him out.

Gríma finds Éomer again—still at the helm. Golden haired in the golden sun looking at ease despite the tumult.

They’d fish him out, Gríma thinks bleakly. Surely. Éomer would make them. Surely.

He wouldn’t be left to drown. Horrorhorrorhorror—how the chest burns and everything’s upside down and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and————

A bucket.

Gríma looks up, realizes his hands are on his knees and he’s shaking. Safan stands before him, holding the bucket.

‘Didn’t realize you’d be so sour stomached,’ Safan says.

Gríma wrenches the bucket from his hand, turns around, and is promptly sick into it. Somewhere, someone laughs. He’s certain it’s at him. He would care if he didn’t feel like his stomach wanted to crawl up his throat.

‘Just lean over the side,’ Safan suggests, all fatherly.

‘Can’t.’

‘Alright.’

‘This is horrible.’

‘You’ll get used to it.’

‘Inhuman.’

Safan laughs.

‘Truly,’ Gríma insists. He hugs the bucket of his bile. ‘Horrible. I’m going home by land. I don’t care if it takes me three months.’

Safan pats him on the shoulder, tells him that he’ll get used to it. It’s only another two and a half days—two if the wind holds. Gríma pulls an ugly face: two days! He doesn’t have enough in him to throw up for two days of travel. Safan shakes his head, pats his shoulder again, insists that Gríma will be fine.

‘Horizon,’ Safan points, ‘keep your eye on that and your stomach should settle.’

‘It’ll settle when I’m dead.’

‘I love your optimism, I’m sure your future king does too.’

Gríma makes no response, save to turn away from Safan and sick into the bucket a second time.

Early afternoon, still the first day, they’ve yet to have the blessing of crossing the small hours into daybreak, they’re not even at dusk, yet, and Éomer finds Gríma who has found a rope pile to sit on, with his bucket, trying to stare at the horizon.

‘I don’t know how you’re not ill, my lord,’ Gríma whines.

Éomer makes no reply. His eyes are also trained on where sky meets sea—a beautiful greying line if Gríma was in the mind to admire.

‘Perhaps you are sick as well,’ Gríma suggests.

Éomer shakes his head.

‘Assuredly,’ Gríma insists.

Éomer smiles, taught it stops half-up his face.

‘Knew it,’ Gríma mutters.

Éomer strides to the railing, leans over, and vomits. Gríma laughs. His future king makes no response. Gríma needles: ‘Would you like a bucket? The bucket is wisdom itself.’

‘I’m fine,’ Éomer replies, as if nothing occurred. ‘I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss.’ Slipping into the northern dialect of the Wold Éomer continues, ‘You’re not being very sympathetic for someone also suffering.’

‘My lord, you should know better than to come and roost upon my stoop in search of sympathy. It died in the womb. I might have eaten it.’

‘Along with your heart?’

‘To be sure. That shriveled, little thing.’

But his future lord-king is smiling, if not outright laughing, and Gríma doesn’t know how to stand in this moment. It’s been two years since the war—almost exactly. They’re just entering April, a fine month to travel in. It’s been fifteen months and a week since that first post-war winter yule when things between them became…sticky. Gríma isn’t sure how to term it, he isn’t sure there is a word for it. He is sure Éomer wouldn’t know and so has never made an effort to ask.

And what is there to ask about? Aside from Gríma’s commitment to burning down the entirety of the world should Éomer ask it of him. A bit of a rub, a bit rum, that the lord should instead ask him to create rather than destroy. Which is just like Éomer, to be contrary to Gríma’s desires whilst being, at the same time, precisely what is desired.

He thinks he might be sick into the bucket again.

‘Éothain told me about the creatures you’re concerned we’ll become victim to,’ Éomer says.

‘His investigations did little to assuage me. That said, their appearance could put me out of my misery, which is a boon.’

‘I think you’re over-reacting.’

Gríma turns away from Éomer, thinks he’s going to be sick, but it passes. He turns back around. On Éomer’s face is writ feint amusement. Gríma he thinks he should be sick on Éomer’s boots to make a point.

Some shuffling of feet as Éomer leans against the side of the boat to again stare at distant horizon as instructed by Safan. Gríma supposes he could try it, but doesn’t think standing wise at this precise moment.

‘Have you heard anything further?’ Éomer asks with a fantastical attempt at disinterest.

Gríma feigns confusion: ‘Further, my lord?’

‘About this—about Lady Dihya,’ he slides through her name in a chaotic fashion, it’s half Éothéod and half an approach to Umbar pronunciations. Good gods, Gríma cannot wait for them to meet if only to hear them butcher each other’s names in such a full-frontal fashion. ‘You were seen speaking with Safan.’

‘Safan and I are acquaintances of old.’

‘Shouting at each other over a wall proceeding a siege hardly makes one an acquaintance of old.’

‘Hardly a siege,’ Gríma scoffs. ‘Lord Aragorn lightly threatened them with ghosts and they saw reason and left.’

‘And the draugr.’

Gríma tilts his head skyward. Éomer follows suit asking if that brother of Gríma’s is around. Which brother would Éomer son of Éomund be asking after? Gods Gríma, the only brother who could possibly be present—the bog-drowned inhuman one that’s a crow half the time. It tried to peck the eyes out of a Meduseld mouser the other day. Hasn’t Gríma taught it manners, yet?

‘Baldir was never keen on following orders,’ Gríma replies tartly. ‘It is hardly my fault he is enacting the behaviours of his kind, now that he is what he is. He’s not eating people or horses. Nor goats, cows, hounds, most cats, and other such important creatures. I cannot vouch for poultry or hares. And no, he’s not around. I told him to fuck off back home before we left.’

Éomer mouths: fuck off back home with some mild astonishment. Gríma gives a desultory look: what?

Éomer tries another question, ‘Did Safan tell you anything useful? Are there things I should avoid saying or doing?’

‘I am not here,’ Gríma holds up a hand, turns away and vomits into the bucket. It’s all bile, at this point. He tried drinking water with ginger in it, recommended by Éothain, but it came to naught. He wipes his mouth, pushes hair out of his face, turns back around to Éomer. ‘I am not here in an advisory capacity. As I told Safan, I don’t know why I’m here. I hardly expected it.’

‘My uncle,’ Éomer glances at the men around them—all Haradrim or Gondorian, the Éothéod are generally seasick and showing it. He continues in the Wold dialect: ‘My uncle took you aside before we left. Éothain and Gundahar both saw it occur. You spoke for a good space of time, what did he say?’

‘Oh, that. He was telling me to mind myself and not get into trouble. That the first whiff of anything suspicious he’ll know whose door to knock at. As if I haven’t learned my lesson! truly I wish people understood that. I make mistakes, the lords know, but I tend not to make the same ones twice.’

Éomer, to his credit, does not believe Gríma—at least about the not knowing what his role is. Gríma hopes he believes him about lessons learned. He had assumed Éomer did—few others, but at least Éomer. Hama would believe him, if he were alive. This thought does a strangeness to Gríma’s chest, an emotion he is learning to name regret. He rarely feels it, if ever, but with Hama yes, it rears its ugly head.

Gríma sometimes wonders what the percentage is that Éomer believes. Is it fifty per cent of what Gríma says? Eighty? Twenty? Or entirely situational? Probably entirely situational. Probably Gríma doesn’t want to know.

‘Surely you’ve been briefed,’ Gríma says into a long stretched silence.

‘Of course I have.’

‘Then you have nothing to worry about.’

Éomer gives him such a statement with his expression and Gríma would laugh if it were appropriate. Instead of saying: horseshit and you know it, Éomer replies: ‘For the sake of relations between countries I want to make a good impression. My uncle said he trusted me to represent Éomarc.’

‘I should hope so, as future king yourself you’re the embodiment of our people and our land.’

Grating, grating, grating—Éomer paces this through. Gríma wants to say what he always thinks in these situations, that Éomer is the better option to Théodred. One represents Éomarc more wholly and entirely than the other. Théodred was nice. Théodred would have tried. He would have done what he thought was the best. Gríma knows better than to sneer those sentiments aloud to the cousin and inheritor who sometimes goes morose and burrows into himself when the former heir is mentioned. The man who Éomer idolized, to some degree, and who did not live long enough to shatter those illusions.

Well, well, that is Éomer, sitting in the sun comparing himself to dead heroes who cannot be faulted in anything because they are dead.

Another wave of nausea comes, Gríma waits to need the bucket, but it passes. How is it so warm? It’s April, it should be the perfect temperature at all times.

‘A rat with a bucket,’ cheerfully calls a voice.

Gríma puts on a flattering smile, ‘my lady, it gladdens my heart to know you are not similarly afflicted.’

‘Not a whit.’

‘Truly,’ Éomer asks. ‘I can’t believe that.’

‘Sorry, brother, but alas that is the case.’ Éowyn does not sound entirely sympathetic. She then glances between them and to her brother asks: ‘What conference have you with Wyrmtunga?’

‘Trying to get information out of him about what we can expect. He chatted with Lord Safan last night.’

‘My how we’ve resurrected ourselves,’ Éowyn sneers at Gríma who continues, with great effort, to appear cheerfully nonplussed but gods gods gods he wants to be sick again. He knows he must be green about the gills for how she laughs. ‘Uncle said you were to behave.’

‘I am, on my honour.’ Gríma adds, ‘on the life of Stigr.’

‘Not nothing,’ Éowyn owns. ‘How do you know lord Safan? He seems above your station and rank, now that you are nothing in particular.’

‘The war.’

‘They shouted pleasantries at each other over the walls of Pelargir,’ Éomer explains, ‘before Aragorn reminded everyone time was of the essence.’

‘Lord Aragorn was just as party to the pleasantries, my lord.’

Éowyn’s keen eyes, sharp as knives, slice from brother to Gríma and Gríma knows a dissection is occurring, there will be a result from it, but it will not be accurate. He knows where her assumptions will lead her, and he is right when she asks: ‘Did you know him through Saruman?’

‘No, my lady, I never met him save that day during the war. I had assumed he died, until he showed up as ambassador.’ He adds, half-afterthought and undertone, ‘not everything is a conspiracy.’

‘I hear she likes hunting,’ Éowyn tells her brother, ignoring Gríma’s reply. ‘Stalking and the like. Talk to her about that and you’ll be safe.’

‘What else did you hear?’

‘Books—histories about seafaring voyages and distant battles, also political machinations. But she is not adverse to the occasional bout of poetry. Recite her something pretty about nature, I heard. She’s partial to birds and fish, also long descriptions of sand dunes which are, apparently, beautiful.’

‘I see.’

‘I’m doubtful too,’ Éowyn agrees. ‘But having never seen one, we could be wrong. Her favourite colour is red and her favourite metal is copper.’

‘See,’ Éomer snaps at Gríma, ‘this is useful information I can do something with.’

Gríma levers himself upright, a dangerous decision for it sets his stomach on edge again, bidding a well-rehearsed and beautiful good-day to them he stalks across the ship towards the prow. He read a book about ships while in Minas Tirith and tried to memorize all their bits and pieces. This is a long, round nosed, shallow bottomed galley. Predominantly used for trade and moving passengers and animals. Gríma marks the three masts, the place for the oarsmen, though as they’re “with the wind” it's just sail work.

In the stern is the—he blanks on the term��but it’s a built-up structure where captain and important guests stay in relative comfort. Everyone else gets shoved below deck with the lice and livestock.

Castle! That’s what the structure is called. A castle.

Daft name.

Or maybe not, he doesn’t know anything about ocean-going vessels. They must be defended, especially merchant fleets, so perhaps castle is apt. Defending the keep, except it’s your boat.

Nearing the prow Gríma grips the railing and stares forward. Fresh sea air helps keep stomach in check. By the time the breeze gets to the back where he had hidden himself there was nothing much left to it. Knuckles whiten as his hands twist on the wood. Well waxed, there are no splinters, but he can feel its course nature against skin. A grounding experience. He sucks in a breath, holds, exhales.

Marvelous, he tells himself, it’s all marvelous. His still being alive and in one piece, mostly. Also this. Boats, oceans, skies, new lands, languages, the many and varied people present in the world. Oh, no, not distracting enough, he leans forward, is sick into the water as he gets hit with ocean spray.

Well, he thinks as he wipes salt water off, at least he knows his face is clean.

#ask #reply #ask meme #fanfic ask #lotr #lord of the rings #grima wormtongue #eomer #fandom #writing #discworld #lord downey

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elrielbaby · 9 months ago

Text

Hello, friends!

I haven’t made a proper post of my own in some time, mainly just reposting. The toxicity of the ship war (and honestly, just the fandom in general) is not conducive to good mental health, and with there being no hint of any news I just found it draining. The thing is, we are all here because we love these books, and for many of us books in general. So before I get back to posting my own elriel related content, I wanted to share with you some books I’ve absolutely adored this year. Please feel free to reblog this and add your own!

Empire of the Damned by Jay Kristoff 🩸

This is the second book in the Empire of the Vampire series (first book of the same name) and it is a strong contender for my book of the year. Not for the faint of heart, this series is bloody, brutal and emotionally devastating - but my GOD what a world, what characters. They are flawed and full bodied, the world is desolate and grim, with such little hope but it is a corker!

All This Twisted Glory by Tahereh Mafi 💔

Okay so this is the 3rd book in the This Woven Kingdom series. The first book in this series I felt very luke warm about, but I liked it enough to continue. The second book in this series is when I began to get really excited, I started to fall in love. The third book? Get out of here, I’m obsessed. If you like stories that include Jinn, inspired by Persian mythology and absolutely jam packed with all the yearning, pining and painful brooding you could possibly ever imagine - this is the book for you. Small caveat, that not an awful lot happens in this book to move the story forward, but the MMC is so down bad that I loved it regardless.

A Fragile Enchantment by Alison Saft 🪡

This one really took my by surprise. This is set in a regency era setting with a sprinkling of magic (and I do mean a light dusting) with a Lady Whistledown style sub plot that really did have me guessing. Our main character, Niamh, has the magical ability to imbue clothing with feeling - and has been hired by the Royal Family to make clothes for the Princes upcoming nuptials. Except there’s a chemistry to Niamh and the broody, irritable Prince Kit that is undeniable. Couple that with a growing unrest of the Macklish that threatens the Royal Fam, it all leads to a very delicious story. I didn’t expect to love this but it truly worked it’s way in to my heart.

Emily Wildes Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett 🧚

This is the second book in the Emily Wilde series but as with the first book I absolutely adored this. It is whimsical, mildly cosy. Emily goes through one of the best character arcs I’ve ever read, and Wendell may be the best blonde haired fictional man to ever exist. If you love proper Faerie stories, you will love this.

Sword Catcher by Cassandra Clare ⚔️

This was an absolutely impeccable start to what I think is going to be an epic fantasy series. Forbidden romance, political intrigue, an interesting magic system and world to boot. I cannot wait for the next book!

The Crimson Moth (aka Heartless Hunter) by Kristen Ciccarelli 🦋

I absolutely devoured this. Witch and witch hunter. Courting for the sake of trying to discover the others secrets, angst, brooding, betrayal. I’m loathe to say anymore lest I give away more than I should. But this is for sure one of my favourite books of the year. I read it so fast, I think about this daily. Please please please, give it a go - you won’t regret it!

The Road of Bones/Kingdom of Claw by Demi Winters 🪓

The Road of Bones was a 5⭐️ read I absolutely loved it, but it’s sequel KoC has made its way into the 6⭐️ category for me. Viking inspired fantasy, with impeccable world building, the romance in this is also chefs bloody kiss. I can’t recommend it enough. Silla isn’t a typical girl boss (I love a girl boss don’t get me wrong) and she got me through the missing Elain Archeron hours.

The Aurelian Cycle (Fireborne, Flamefall & Furysong) by Rosaria Munda 🐉

I loved this so much because it started from a different place than most fantasy stories. In this, we start 10 years post Revolution of a regime that was ruled by the Dragon Lords, who over taxed the poor and meted out brutal punishments to people who’s only crime was being poor and hungry. Our main characters met in an orphanage in the wake of the revolution, but they could not have come from more different backgrounds- and yet they love each other anyway. The political intrigue and emotional complexities of this story was superb. 10/10

The Ember Quarter (An ember in the ashes, a torch against the night, a reaper at the gates and a sky beyond the storm) By Sabaa Tahir 💀

I’m so incredibly late to the party but I’m glad I arrived nonetheless. What an epic tale, what a fantasy story. You truly set off at a running pace with this one - it feels like there’s very little stopping time. Every word and page of this story is used to its full effect. I’m in awe of this authors story telling prowess. It broke my heart, but by god how I loved it.

#book recommendations #back to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow #Acotar #the road of bones #empire of the damned #a fragile enchantment #an ember in the ashes #the aurelian cycle #sword catcher #the crimson moth #heartless hunter #Emily wildes map of the otherlands

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