#the cloud sea saga

[bones4thecats]

➸ Nobody vs. the G.O.G.; Poseidon × S/O

Characters: Poseidon A/N: This is kind of a re-write of my old piece of the Reader being Odysseus' ancestor. I remembered that I wrote it a while ago, and in honor of the next saga of the Epic musical, I decided to redo it for fun! Anyways, have fun reading! ➥ Summary: What happens when two long-time rivals end up meeting again due to one similar relationship? Something entertaining for poor you, that's for sure.

DISCLAIMER: THIS CONTAINS QUITE A BIT OF VIOLENCE AT THE START. READER'S DISCRETION ADVISED THERE.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Poseidon ══════════════════════════════╝

🔱 It was years, centuries ago, that a human and goddess had a child. An accident was what the Gods called it as they reassured the female, whom had left the baby with its father

🔱 The Goddess had to observe her child's life, aging underneath the tyrannical hand of the man who made up half of them. She sobbed nearly every night in the arms of her fellow Gods, and they had to reassure every night that it had to be this way. As a human could never live among the Gods

🔱 While the child's mother watched, they grew, married, had children, and that happened multiple times before she began to leave the next generations to themselves. The Goddess did come back. And her current descendant, Laertes, smiled as his newborn son was handed to him

🔱 Unbeknownst to them, the baby's ancestor would check on him almost daily, floating above him on a cloud. She held her hand out to the young Odysseus and he giggled as he grabbed her finger, a steam-like print being engraved into her skin

🔱 She smiled and sung to him the song that her father would sing to her whenever she was homesick. Memories flashed of the giant male hugging her and humming while her mother just coughed sickly and laid on his shoulder. Perhaps this song could make better memories with this young man?

🔱 Odysseus aged tremendously in the Goddess' eyes. He had the most beautiful dark hair she saw, and his eyes always made her proud to see the glimmer of life in them. Especially when he met his wife and they had his son

🔱 As he sailed off to fight against Troy, his ancestor stayed around his family. She transformed into a beautiful phoenix, with her wings and body being whiter than the clouds and the fire affect resembling the fluffy-structures in the sky

🔱 The bird would fly by every day, making sure the mother and son were safe from the suitors. One day, she went to far in protecting them to lure one out of the castle, grab him by the neck, and tell him to warn his fellow suitors that;

"If thou dare lay one hand on Penelope or Telemachus, I shall lay waste thee and thy fellow suitors. Now leave. Say to the others of this warning."

"Yes, Goddess of the Ocean's Storms and wife of Poseidon, God of the Sea. This warning shall be told to mine fellow suitors. I just pray to be spared from thy rage." He replied, a pathetic tone coming out and not the overconfident one from before.

"Go. Thou hast received the mercy of a goddess. 'I return, I expect a sacrifice of four suitors by the end of this week. Understood, mortal?"

"Merely, goddess of the ocean's storms. Thou hast mine word to mere thy crave 'i exchange."

🔱 The suitor ran off in fear. But, despite the warning from him, the men just laughed, calling him crazy for swearing that a Goddess such as that to visit him for such a petty reason

🔱 The next day, he was found with a trident stabbed through his chest.

🔱 It was months that the woman watched, not intervening, despite the wish to do so. She had been held back by her close friend, Aphrodite. Much to her despair. She wanted those suitors to be torn piece by piece until the other way to recognize them was from their torn-out eyeballs

🔱 A smile crossed the Goddess' face as she watched Athena protest against her father, Zeus. Her words made sense. After all, she did know this boy the best out of them all. Well, other than you that is

══✿══╡

🔱 You smiled as you intertwined your arm with Poseidon's. You both were your way to visit a certain young man who had delivered a letter to your doorstep. It was the young Telemachus of Ithaca, the son of former King and Queen Odysseus and Penelope

🔱 Poseidon's blank stare remained as you pet the head of a cute dog, his long snout's darker tone contrasting with the pink-colored tongue he used to lick you

"What a sweetheart, right, Poseidon?"

🔱 He looked away before nodding. It was hardly noticeable to most, but after living with him for a few centuries, you get used to his small signs

🔱 You stood as you heard your name get called. The smile on your face grew largely as you saw the young man come running out, his arms wide for you to hug him. He wrapped them around your shoulders and you laughed at the actions

"Telemachus. You act as if you haven't aged since you were a young 20-year-old! It's impressive you're over 100 now!" You joked.

🔱 Telemachus smiled and laughed. He then looked behind you and saw Poseidon, his eyes slightly widening as he caught sight of the God. The same God his father told him so many scary stories about ever since he returned home

"L-Lord Poseidon." He said.

🔱 Poseidon let out a breath as you rolled your eyes and asked Telemachus where his parents were. He looked back at you and nervously chuckled before motioning for you both to follow him inside of his home

"Mom's most likely observing some of the birds in the garden. My dad's probably training his men in the fields. You know him..."

"Do I ever."

🔱 Telemachus and you two stopped in a living room. It had many piece of furniture that was a mixture of Ancient Greek and modern-times. He told you guys you could sit down as he gathered his parents to see you both

🔱 You smiled and looked at Poseidon. He just stared off at the nearby ocean, probably thinking out everything he had to finish once you two returned home. Before he or you knew it, Telemachus came back in with his mother being dragged by her arm, a laugh coming from her as it happened

"Penelope. It's so lovely to see you again!" You said, embracing the woman like how you did her son.

"The same goes for me. You haven't aged a year! You must teach me your secrets." She joked.

"Penelope, what's going on?" A new voice said.

🔱 Looking up, you saw another male walk into the room. He had long, near-black hair, and a lightly-grown beard. Your eyes lit up when they met his, memories flashing in your head as you practically ran up to hug the man

🔱 Poseidon glanced up and stood up firmly, slamming his trident into the ground as he remembered the guy. This was the one man he hated more than anyone

"Odysseus of Ithaca."

🔱 Odysseus slightly jumped and looked up from your shoulder. Seeing the God of the Seas there, he pulled your behind him, unsheathing his sword to keep his family safe from the heartless man

"Poseidon. What are you doing here? We settled our issues years ago."

"No! No! No, Odysseus, I brought him here to meet you guys. Wait. How do you two know each other?"

"It's a long story..." Odysseus mumbled.

"One that I would be lucky to be recanted on." You said sternly.

"Well..."

"Polyphemus. He went blind because of this mortal."

"Huh? I thought- you stabbed him?!"

"Uh..."

"Okay, let's start from the top."

══✿══╡

🔱 You looked down at the ground with a facial expression that made Odysseus and Poseidon look away slightly. You weren't glaring, but you weren't even close to smiling either

"Let me make sure this is all clear. Odysseus, you fought in Troy, left, got stuck at an island trying to find food. Then you tried eating Polyphemus' sheep, and after he killed multiple of your men, you blinded him. Then you opened a bag from Aeolus after Poseidon came around, started and storm and fled, got stuck with Circe, went to the Underworld, dealt with sirens, Scylla, and Zeus. And then you had to deal with Calypso, and eventually had to deal with Poseidon once again."

"Yeah..."

"And Poseidon. You heard Polyphemus' cries for you, came and found out everything. And, using the information and name that Odysseus' blurted out in a ego-boosted stupor, found him, and drowned most of his men. You then proceeded to threaten Penelope, Telemachus, and the entirety of Ithaca with drowning?"

🔱 Poseidon nodded in a reply as you sighed and rubbed your temples

"Well... this has become much more of a difficult meeting than I hoped it would've been."

"You're telling me..." Telemachus said.

[adventuresofalgy]

Surrounded by such remarkable views on such a beautiful day Algy felt so utterly full of songs that he felt he must hop back quickly over the wee ravine to The Singing Place, so that he could let some of them out in the proper manner before he burst.

The Singing Place was a very special rocky outcrop which those of Algy's friends who remember his first children's book A Surprisingly Fluffy Bird may perhaps recognise (see cover illustration below ☺️). It was here that Algy first told the tale of his dramatic and dangerous journey to the west coast of Scotland by sea to a crowd of assembled birds and animals, and, as a lonely castaway refugee, was thus able to make new friends in this land which was to become his home.

But on this much later occasion Algy had no visible audience except a distant sheep, who simply stared at him with disdain for a moment or two then continued its search for something nutritious to eat, which was undoubtedly a considerable challenge in this harsh environment and would require all the intelligence which a sheep could manage to muster…

Undeterred, Algy decided to sing his long ballad once again, just as he had done years ago. Who could tell who might be listening, hiding among the heather or the rocks?

As no human has ever heard Algy singing the saga of his voyage across the ocean it's very difficult to say what the tune might be, but the words have been recorded for posterity, and the song starts like this:

Once, upon a stormy day, Not long ago, but far away, A fluffy bird with hair of gold Perched on a branch, But lost his hold. And sad to say (Truth must be told) He fell into the water cold, He fell into the sea. He tumbled down into the sea; That clumsy fluffy bird was me. The wind began to roar and shout, The surf tossed foam and spray about, There wasn’t any time to think, He tried to float, Began to sink. Then suddenly a waterspout Swept by and saved him from the brink Of drowning in the briny drink: It sucked him from the sea. It snatched him boldly from the sea; That drowning fluffy bird was me. The day was dark, the clouds were black, The spout spun on a frantic track, Twirling fast across the sky, The bird on top Was riding high. The thunderclouds began to crack, And lightning bolts went flashing by: The poor bird thought that he would die And perish in the sea. He thought he’d perish in the sea; That wretched fluffy bird was me. The waterspout rushed straight ahead, The bird was shuddering with dread: His future seemed so very short, The fluffy bird Was quite distraught. As madly over sea he fled, The waves were in his every thought; The bird’s predicament was fraught With danger from the sea. His life was threatened by the sea; That frightened fluffy bird was me. Then, all at once, the lightning flashed, The sky burst open, thunder crashed; The waterspout released its grip, And soon the bird Began to slip. Back down into the sea he splashed; Beneath the waves he took a dip As frantically he tried to flip Back up out of the sea. He tried to jump out from the sea; That frantic fluffy bird was me. His leaping was to no avail, The ocean had him by the tail; Foul salty water filled his throat When suddenly He saw a boat With battered mast, and tattered sail Made out of some poor sailor’s coat. And there was something else afloat – A bobbing raft upon the sea. He saw a raft upon the sea; That startled fluffy bird was me. The boat was nothing but a wreck, No soul was left upon its deck: There was no sign of the crew’s fate, A story Sorry to relate. The bird struck out; he had to reach The raft: it seemed to be a crate. He wondered: would it take his weight Upon the tossing sea? A crate was rocking on the sea; That struggling fluffy bird was me. A lucky change in the sea’s swell Conveyed the drowning bird so well That he was thrown against the raft With so much force He almost laughed, And uttered an exultant yell Of joy, to find himself so close abaft A seaworthy and comfy craft: A nest upon the sea. He found a nest upon the sea; That happy fluffy bird was me. The floating crate was strong and sound, Secured with tacks and wire around. He grabbed hold of the rocking side And quickly Hauled himself inside. Overjoyed that he had found A raft upon the ocean wide, He curled up happily and sighed, Then rested on the sea. The bird was safe upon the sea; That rescued fluffy bird was me.

[Algy is singing the first nine verses of his long self-composed song The Ballad of a Fluffy Bird Lost at Sea, which appears in the penultimate chapter of his first childrens's book A Surprisingly Fluffy Bird. You can discover more about Algy's children's books on his own new web site, or on any Amazon site. Here's the link to the series on the Amazon US site, for example.]

[monowritestoomuch]

How To Piss Off The Gods 101

Chapter 1: A Day Spent Well

Notes: No this is not historically accurate con-wise. I got lazy. I’ve been a bit less busy lately, but that doesn’t mean I’m even remotely free of the busyness of life. So here you go, the starting chapter. I’ve already started on the second chapter, so it should be out in the next week. Regardless, enjoy this while I attempt to work on my other requests.

Chapters: Chapter 1,

WORD COUNT: 786

It was early May twenty-twenty-three, a bit early for a comic con, but enjoyable nonetheless. Jorge was walking around the San Francisco Comic Con floor, waiting for Talia, his lovely girlfriend, whilst she used the bathroom. 

He surveyed the floor, eyes flitting to each and every stand. Every single one seemed to pique his interest, promising himself that he’d visit as many as he could. 

He was scrolling through Instagram, reading through Epic posts he’d been tagged in or were just there, humming to the tune of Puppeteer. It was one of his best works in his opinion, so far at least. 

The voices of the con were just regular con chatter until two voices split through the drowned out sound. Jorge looked up to see a young couple holding hands and grinning, seemingly to be college students. The younger man had dark hair, pale skin and eyes so sea green, Jorge thought he was looking through seaglass. The young woman had tanned skin with blonde hair, held up in a ponytail, crisp grey eyes peeking through the thicker strands of hair, like he was looking through a grey storm-cloud. They had matching grey streaks in their hair and the guy was drinking some sort of blue slurry, before clutching his head as the girl laughed.

“That’s what you get for drinking too fast, seaweed brain,” she laughed as the young man pouted. 

“Don’t act all high and mighty, wise girl, last I checked, you’d burned your tongue on that extra large pretzel!” he shot back, clutching his head. The girl rolled her eyes, continuing to walk ahead of her partner a few paces before she paused and turned to Jorge, who had looked up briefly, still humming puppeteer, before going back to scrolling through Instagram and listening into the conversation. 

Her eyes scanned over Jorge briefly, before her eyes went wide. 

“Hello?” Jorge asked inquisitively. “Do you-uh-do you need something?” he questioned. 

At that point the young man had stopped clutching his head in a brain-freeze pain and looked in the same direction as his partner. 

“I knew I recognized that song!” she exclaimed, turning to her partner, who seemed incredibly confused. “Do you remember a few weeks ago, when you found that musical about the Odyssey on spotify?” she asked him, before turning back to Jorge. “I didn’t expect to find anyone else who knew the musical here, it isn’t as well known as it should be.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to say that,” Jorge responded, scratching the back of his neck and awkwardly laughing. 

The young ravenette man snapped his fingers, realization etching his features. “Oh that musical! I remember listening to that a few weeks ago! What was it, the Troy saga?” he paused, grinning, seeming embarrassed. “If I’m honest, ‘Just A Man’ almost made me shed a few tears.” He laughed. 

“Didn’t know I’d find others with an interest,” Jorge laughed, standing up from the bench he was sat on. “Jorge,” he greeted, holding his hand out to shake. 

The ravenette guy shook his hand first. “Percy,” he greeted in return with a smile. “And this is my girlfriend-”

“Annabeth,” the blonde-haired woman greeted, shaking Jorge’s hand after Percy did. 

“So what’s your favorite song?” Jorge asked, causing the young couple to start talking simultaneously about the musical.

It was only a few minutes later when Tayla walked out of the woman’s restroom, finding her boyfriend speaking to a young couple with a wide, mischievous smile wrapped on his face. 

Tayla walked up to her boyfriend, introducing herself and immediately being brought into the conversation with a few handshakes and an argument on whether Just A Man or Ruthlessness was better. She cast her vote for Ruthlessness and the two couples hit it off, exchanging numbers with each other.

It was only later that Percy and Annabeth learned that Talya was the voice of Circe after Percy pointed out how similar they sounded. They’d also learned that Jorge voiced Odysseus, meaning he was the creator of the musical.

By the gods, their luck was either spectacular or terrible. In this case, Tyche seemed to be on their side. 

Annabeth knew that the musical was inaccurate, and that it would continue to be, as did Percy. But Percy had an idea. Gods forbid the gods were to actually find this, but as long as Percy was still alive and ‘Persassy’ as Leo called him, he would make this musical hilarious. 

It seemed Annabeth agreed to go along with the plan, not entirely agreeing with the portrayal of her mother, but who did seem genuinely interested in helping out Jorge and Tayla. 

Plus, the camp had just begun to find the musical.

Chapters: Chapter 1

Taglist:

@the-beloved-genloss-niki

(Let me know if you’d like to be added)

[solo-walker]

What if Tiresias gave Oddysseus's crew a prophecy as well?

Hmmm...

"I see the day turn into night, [Zeus and his clouds/Poseidon and his storm]

I see a foe snuff out the light! [Scylla/Polyphemus]

I hear a voice demand a choice

That is to decide your plight. [Zeus in 'Thunder Bringer']

I see winds run wild and free! [Aeolus/Zeus, maybe Poseidon if you squint]

I see splinters in the sea! ['Ruthlessness'/'Thunder Bringer']

I see your families wait for you by the shore...

But you're no longer there..."

I envision this happening simultaneously with 'Monster'. One thing I live about 'No longer you' is how the lyrics can be interpreted to be referring to both past and future events! I wanted to preserve that quality in this rewrite(?). It's a tad more direct and straightforward than I would have liked, but hey, it does the job. I may rework the lyrics later.

[P.S. can't wait till Vengeance Saga releases!]

[viric-dreams]

Going to put a rough timeline together for Ockham:

1781:

Eduard Ackerman is born in Antwerp, in what was then the Austrian Netherlands, the second of what would be five children (and only one of two to survive to adulthood).

1792:

Antwerp falls under French control. Ackerman has since become the oldest living child.

1796:

Ackerman begins working on a merchant ship, involved in minor trade between nearby European ports, and sending money back to his family.

1804:

Whilst away, Ackerman receives a letter that the entire family is ill with cholera. Rather than try to gain passage back to Antwerp on another ship, he makes the decision to stay the course and return as planned, with pay for the full journey. By the time he returns, he learns his younger brother is the only one to have survived. This leads to a massive row between the two of them, in which his brother accused him of being callous and caring more about money than their own family. Ackerman argued that with the benefit of hindsight it would not have many any difference--even if he had taken the next boat back he wouldn't have arrived in time. And was it not his wages that was, in no insignificant part, supporting them all? His brother did not appreciate the logic of this argument, and it became the last time the two ever spoke.

1804-1812:

Ackerman continues work as a sailor, semi-consistently changing ships and never holding onto interpersonal relationships for long. In this time he has no fixed address, yet spent significant time in both Rotterdam and Hamburg.

Autumn 1812:

Whilst on shore leave in London, he's impressed into the Royal Navy.

1812-1814:

Ackerman serves against his will on a British warship, his desertion attempts unsuccessful. Shortly after conscription, the officers give him the nickname Ockham, seemingly unable or unwilling to pronounce his name correctly. He maintains sanity during this period with minor forms of rebellion.

Summer 1814:

His ship engages with a French vessel. Amidst the chaos and cannon fire he's thrown from the deck into the mirrored surface of the sea.

1814-1899:

Viric dreams under a cosmogone sun

1899 (Pt. 3):

Ockham wakes up in Fallen London during Whitsun of 1899.

Much has changed since hishertheir last memories of the place. Ockham tries hishertheir best to get back on hishertheir feet and adapt. Heshethey gets a job on the docks.

Things don't always seem to add up in the Neath. Acquaintances seem to struggle to understand Ockham, to remember details of their interactions, often yawning in boredom when Ockham's speaking. It only serves to worsen Ockham's already negative impression on Londoners, and the English specifically.

And then there are the dreams. Ockham dreams of a jungle, impossibly green. Heshethey lies on a cushioned bed of moss, soft as any cloud. Warm bodies surround himherthem, slithering and sliding across hishertheir limbs, like the sway of floating in a gentle sea. The mellow sounds of the jungle at rest are broken by the low drone of many conversations and it’s so easy to get lost in that hum. Sunlight trickles through the canopy of leaves, warming them all. The smell of saltwater hangs in the air, and the occasional call of gulls hint at a shore not far from here. This is peace. This is home.

Ockham learns of the existence of Parabola, the likely source of hishertheir recurring dreams (memories?) and vows to find it.

At some point in this saga, Ockham gets looped into killing the Vake. Sure, heshethey'll do it, if it enables hishertheir ultimate goal of crossing through the mirror.

Ockham becomes a silverer and begins exploring Parabola, searching for that clearing from hishertheir dreams. All the while, a familiar-looking figure seems to lurk just in the corners of hishertheir vision, never quite in catchable range.

1899 (Pt. 4)

Ockham continues the search for the location in hishertheir dreams. Heshethey decides to petition the Fingerkings for information. There's some sort of connection between them, Ockham can sense it. They seem, however, to be unusually elusive. Not a reptile in sight.

An unpleasant entanglement with The Thieving Stowaway (The Youthful Naturalist) results in Ockham zailing to Irem. There, heshethey finally corners a powerful Cacophony of serpents at the Market. Ockham tries to broker a deal with them, to take himherthem back to that place, or possibly back into their fold. That's why they have the connection, right? That's why some of Ockham's memories (dreams?) are so distinctly inhuman. The Fingerkings don't see it that way. They don't want Ockham. They have no use for himherthem. What would they do with a Parabolan reflection, especially when they already have the original. It's at this point that Ockham finally comes face to face with the familiar figure--the surface sailor whose face Ockham's mirrors. But appearances is where the resemblance ends. If there was once a person in there, any trace of life is long gone, an empty husk puppeted by the Cacophony. Whatever may have once been behind those eyes is gone now, leaving Ockham the sole steward of what used to be Ackerman, now woven together with a patchwork of Parabola.

Furious and frustrated, Ockham zails back to London, nearly drowning in the process during the harrowing voyage. Upon docking, heshethey sets hishertheir zub on fire, wrung out and thoroughly done with the Zee, and vowing never to step foot on a ship again.

Ockham spends the next several months coming to terms with the fact that heshethey're not human, but a creature of Parabola, imbued with the spirit and memories of what once was a person, and many of those of the Fingerkings.

Ockham bounces from job to job, untethered, slowly becoming involved in ventures in the Upper River.

Around this point, heshethey meets Tamara, and seeing someone so clearly lost and in need of a place to stay offers her a spare room in hishertheir flat.

This awkward but tentatively friendly relationship goes slightly pear-shaped upon Tamara discovering what Ockham is. They do manage to eventually mend it to an extent, and slowly begin to understand each other better, both figuratively and literally, as they both gain a common language.

Ockham is often away from London, busy in the Upper River and also Parabola. Heshethey begins a business selling Parabolan-grown ghost peppers to the Stags and rich Bohemians with more money than self-preservation skills.

All this draws to a violent end when the Cacophony makes their move, attempting to kill Ockham and break out of Parabola, something they couldn't do as long as Ockham was in the Is. They don't succeed, and Ockham manages to make it back to London, but it's no longer safe for himherthem to cross through the mirror.

Ockham needs to regroup and find a new profession.

[magic-is-something-we-create]

The Millennium Saga Book Four: Fate Weavers - a formal WIP intro

This is book four of The Millennium Saga! Intros for the first three can be found here: Firebreathers [X], Echoseers [X], and Goddess-Touched [X]

“It’s only happening to one piece of him at a time,” she says. “You take the left. I’ll take the right.” A bleary blink, as her words sink in. A flicker of hope—one I have to nurture, because I can’t handle the idea of losing it—and I join her in reaching for him, even as his extremities spasm and dematerialize in random, quick bursts. And together, we lift him up. Her sea-slick, shivering hand clasps my shoulder as I clasp hers, each with one of my brother’s arms thrown over our necks. Her grip is tight, even as her breaths are shallow, and mine still pants little clouds into the night air as we limp towards the shore. As we drag him—no. As we drag ourselves, because even accounting for the periodically-disappearing limbs, he’s easily twenty pounds lighter than he should be, his cheeks hollow and stomach concave and wrists sharp when they’re material. As we drag ourselves along, step by painful step, the rest of the world starts gradually coming back into focus.

Genre: High fantasy/Steampunk Target Audience: New Adult/Adult POV: First person present, Multi-POV Themes: Anti-Imperialism, trauma and recovery, hope and hopelessness, the stigma surrounding mental illness, the differences between vengeance, atonement, and justice, the separation between faith, religion, and deities, death and life and which one defines humanity more, and the struggle to rebuild after disaster.

Draft one in extremely early stages as of October 27th, 2024.

A Flex is a life altering thing, on the off chance of survival.

A second Flex is almost unheard of.

An interrupted song; a plea from Death Herself; a single voice calling for understanding and forgiveness, lost amid the tide. And the savior, bedridden, while everyone who has just become survivor races to pick up the pieces of what he’s done.

And in the potential end that all diplomacy fails, that the land-walking people of the world must retreat inland and up-tree, there still need to be options.

To Andy, those options center airships. To Nimbus, they center hovertech. To Annie, it’s peace with The Shadow. To Isa, the wounded. To Ember, their family, safe, alive—a goal that feels further from reach every moment.

And to Lakia, those options center vengeance.

The ocean has yet to quiet. The Fourth Eternal has yet to show her face.

And time is running out for the world.

The taglist for The Millennium Saga will now be maintained below the cut on this post! If you'd like to join it, let me know in which ever way is most comfortable for you!

In addition to that, you'll also find another version of the banner below, because while this one was my favorite of the versions I tried, I am quite proud of the glass and ironwork on the other one.

Taglist:

@ladywithalamp ; @lavenderrosewrites ; @47crayons ; @writeblrfantasy ; @ashen-crest 

@dragon-swords-prophecies ; @faithfire ; @lexiklecksi ; @writingrosesonneptune ; @trixierosewrites

Alternate banner:

[p4st3ls34]

The aesthetic I made, Pastel Sea Witch

Pastel Sea Witch is characterized by the combination of feminine, witch, mermaid, ocean, and lunar -related themes. It is largely influenced by Bubblegum Witch and Mermaidcore.

Decade of origin

2024

Creator/s

@p4st3ls34 (on Tumblr, Pinterest) @p4st3l.s34 (On capcut)

Key motifs

Shells, fairy lights, mason jars of beach sand, crystals, pearls , weather, tarot cards, magic, LED lights, mermaids, sirens, water nymphs, candy, Wicca

Key colours

Baby pink, lavender, baby blue, ocean blue, mint green, white, black accents

Key values

Self-love, love of the ocean, body positivity, self-expression, freedom, spirituality, deep connection with water spirits

Related animals

Clams

Crabs

Sea bunnies

Fish

Cats

Moonrise Pink Tetras

Frogs

Moths

Butterflies

Jellyfish

Music

Artists

Melanie Martinez

MARINA

Rabitology

Jorge Rivera Herrans

Banshee

Album

PORTALS by Melanie Martinez (Deluxe)

EPIC: The Circe Saga by Jorge Rivera Herrans

SIRENCORE by Banshee

EPIC: The Ocean Saga by Jorge Rivera Herrans

Electra Heart by MARINA

The Family Jewels by MARINA

Ancient Dreams In a Modern Land by MARINA

After School EP by Melanie Martinez

Songs

MILK OF THE SIREN (previously known as SIRENS) by Melanie Martinez

The Bog Bodies (DORM DEMO) by Rabitology

Butcheress (DORM DEMO) by Rabitology

Teen Idle by MARINA

Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land by MARINA

Are You Satisfied? By MARINA

Oh No! By MARINA

FAERIE SOIREE by Melanie Martinez

 MOON CYCLE by Melanie Martinez

TUNNEL VISION by Melanie Martinez

Test Me by Melanie Martinez

Brain and Heart by Melanie Martinez

BIRTH OF VENUS by Banshee

Objects

Candy

Lollipops

Hard candies

Bubblegum

Fairy lights

Shells

Mason jars of beach sand

Pentacles

Lily of the Valley

Pearls

Rose quartz

Blue agate

Stuffed animals

Books

Leather-bound spell books

The moon

Storms

Fish tanks

Mermaid statues

Symbols

Lightning

Moons

Waves

Shells

Clouds

Mermaids

Ships

Fashion

Materials

Velvet

Cotton

Silk

Lace

Tops

Crop tops

Corsets

Bustiers

Button-down blouses

Spaghetti strap tank tops

Shell Bikini tops

Bodices

Bottoms

Swim Skirts

Scale Print leggings

White fishnets

Pleated skirts

Maxi Skirts

Midi skirts

Shoes

Platform boots

Sandals

Platform sneakers

Outerwear

Bathing suit cover ups

Cardigans

Accessories

Pearl or shell crowns

Hair barrettes

Chokers

Belts

Fishing net shawl

Witch hats

Jewelry

Crystal necklaces

Crystal rings

Pearl necklaces

Mermaid necklace

Pearl ring

Aquamarine jewelry

Silver things

Hair and makeup:

The hair and make-up of Pastel Sea Witch involves shimmery eyeshadow, scales, press on pearls, shimmery or natural lips.

Hair that is kept long is associated with this aesthetic. Long hair that is loose tends to be in waves or braids.

Activities

The activities associated with Pastel Sea Witch are:

Gathering shells

Sewing, knitting, crocheting, embroidery

Swimming

Laying on the beach

Making spell bottles

Fishing 

Beach picnics

Painting and drawing

Building a birdhouse

Reading

Walking in the woods or on the beach

Catching crustaceans 

Catching bugs

[kanerallels]

It is honestly a miracle I managed to figure something out for today's Spring Fling prompt from @monthly-challenge: sports. Sports are not my thing lol HOWEVER I HAD A FUN IDEA for what was actually my first Wingfeather saga fic. Hope y'all enjoy!!

The sun was shining on the isle of Annieria. Fluffy white clouds drifted across the sky, sent on their way by the spring breeze. Far below sat the Shining Isle itself, mounted by the majestic shape of Castle Rysen, which sat on a green hill.

The grass swept down from the foot of the castle, covering the wide green that led up to the nearby road. And, running across the grass like their lives depended on it, were two boys.

They’d been there for hours already— first, playing a game of zibzy with some of the other children of the village. But when they’d had to go home, the two boys had lingered. They were, at the moment, playing a simplified version of a Green Hollows game known as “Get The Boot”, although in this situation it was a zibzy ball, not a boot. To anyone passing by, it would look strangely like the two boys were taking turns full on tackling each other and wrestling for control of the ball.

Which may have been true. But Esben wasn’t about to complain.

It was a beautiful spring day. The kind where it was a crime to stay inside for too long. He and Artham, his brother, had been so fidgety during their T.H.A.G.S lessons, that their mother, Nala, had eventually given up and sent them outside. She had told them, in no uncertain terms, not to come inside until they’d finally calmed down a little.

It had been three hours, and Esben was tired— but it was the good kind of tired, from defeating your friends at zibzy and wrestling with your brother while the sun warmed you overhead. Finally, he yanked the ball free from Artham’s grasp, rolled away, and flopped onto his back with a cry. “Ha! I win!”

Artham dropped down next to him, breathing hard and grinning. “I can still take it from you, though.”

“Nope. Game’s over and I won,” Esben told him.

“Says who?”

“Me. I’m gonna be the High King someday, remember?”

Artham scoffed good naturedly. “Doesn’t mean I can’t pummel you.”

Closing his eyes, Esben took in a deep breath, enjoying the sunlight on his face. Spring was the best time of year to him— when things were fresh and new and bright. And it led into summer, when the heat was such that their mother was forced to let them take a break from T.H.A.G.S to let them plunge into the ocean and cool off.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what the Throne Warden is supposed to do,” he pointed out to his brother, who grinned.

“Fair enough. You win this time.”

That was Artham— always willing to make peace between the two of them, even if he’d fight anyone else to the last breath. “Good,” Esben said, sitting up. “As the winner, I declare we should take out the boat now.”

“Now? What about dinner?”

Rolling his eyes, Esben said, “What about dinner? What about being out on the sea right now? Look at the sky, Artham! It’s perfect for a sail.”

Artham shook his head, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Fine.” Getting to his feet with a groan, he offered Esben a hand. “I’m with you, obviously.”

Grabbing his hand, Esben let his older brother pull him to his feet. “You always are,” he said. “Let’s go!”

And with that, the Throne Warden and the future High King took off across the grass, heading down towards the sea waiting for them below.

[diversegaminglists]

Games Finished in 2023

Didn't get as much gaming as I usually do, due to a combination of health issues, my cat having cancer (she's fine now) and my computer breaking in a couple of infuriatingly nebulous ways.

Games I recommend are bolded.

Archvale

Franken RPG

Symphony of War: The Nephilim Saga

Signalis

Bound by Flame

Monster Train

The Last Door Season One

Unforgiving: A Northern Hymn

Dirk Smallwood HD

The Excavation of Hob's Barrow

Flynn: Son of Crimson

Dishonored: Knife of Dunwall

Dishonored: The Brigmore Witches

Sands of Salazaar

Adios

Talk to Me

Dishonored 2

Power Wash Simulator

Power Wash Simulator: Tomb Raider

Power Wash Simulator: Midgar

Pilgrims

Stone

Teacup

Cloud Gardens

Memory Traces: Japan

Khimera: Puzzle Island

Katamari Damacy Reroll

I was a Teenage Exocolonist

100 Hidden Frogs

lure

Lights Off...

Viltnemda

Suspicious Downpour

The Lost Dachshund

Resonance of the Ocean

Swallow the Sea

Shadow Burglar

Kore

Fears to Fathoms: Home Alone

Greedfall

Rapture: The Beginning

Adventure Escape Christmas Killer

Apeture Desk Job

Corridor Z

Hero of the Kingdom: The Lost Tales 2

The Shore

Alder's Blood: Prologue

Mirlo Above the Sun

Stillwater

The Call of Karen

Karisvale

Momotype

Epic Battle Fantasy 5

Aztlan Uncovered: Prologue

Good Dog

Adventure Escape Mysteries: Cluedo

You are a Whale Also Part 1

Adventure Escape Mysteries: Midnight Carnival

I want to be a Triangle

Behind the Frame: The Finest Scenery

The Case of the Golden Idol

The Darkside Detective

Project Exhibited

The Case of the Golden Idol: The Spider of Lanka

The Test

Fayburrrow

Faefever

You Will (Not) Remain

Bad Dream: Stories

Star Apprentice: Magical Murder Mystery

Arcanbreak

Glass Masquerade 3: Honey Lines

Dot's Home

Westwood Shadows: Prologue

The Suicide of Rachel Foster

The Looker

Nancy Drew: Legend of the Crystal Skull

Without a Voice

Escape Academy

One Night Stand

Nancy Drew: The Phantom of Venice

Janosik

Don't Escape Trilogy

Spirit Cleaning

Fatum Betula

Viridi

Sarawak

Baldur's Gate: Siege of Dragonspear

Riddles of the Past

Desolatium: Prologue

Apocalipsis

The Vagrant

Apocalipsis: One Night in the Woods

Hayami Chan

Ginkgo

Alba: A Wildlife Adventure

Memory Traces: Egypt

Wilful

Distraint

Baldur's Gate 3

Zombie Admin

The Lost Night

Inside

Kingdom Hearts 2 Final Mix (PS4)

The Painscreek Killings

Eiyuden Chronicle: Rising

One-Eyed Lee: Prologue

Nasty Little Man

Halo CE: Anniversary

Technoccult: Covenant

To be a Herpwitch

Seethe and Scab

Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition: Main Campaign

Moons of Madness

Dragon's Crown Pro (PS4)

Paradise Killer

Amnesia: Rebirth

Dave the Diver

Zemblanity

Fighting Fantasy Classics: The Warlock of Firetop Mountain

[wellhalesbells]

top 9 books

tagged by @rosieposiepuddingnpie - thank you and curse you, this is my least favorite/favorite thing to do!

The Starless Sea, Erin Morgenstern (a book about the love of books and story-telling, another great example of this is Cloud Cuckoo Land, by Anthony Doerr but this edges it out just a little in my all time faves. Also consider this a stand-in for Erin Morgenstern's other gem: The Night Circus.)

The Secret History, by Donna Tartt (I always waffle between the dark academia vibes of this or the snowy Amsterdam/dry Las Vegas heat of The Goldfinch - they're both absolute perfection and have gay undertones so they bounce back and forth depending on the day.)

Middlesex, by Jeffrey Eugenides (you know how people use 'sweeping tale' to describe certain books? That's this one. It just whisks you away. I know everything there is to know about the Stephanides clan and I'm a better person for it.)

The Bedlam Stacks, by Natasha Pulley (Honestly, also consider this a stand-in for every Natasha Pulley book there is. Sometimes my favorite is The Half Life of Valery K, sometimes it's The Watchmaker of Filigree Street series, sometimes it's The Kingdoms; it's really whose yearning I'm vibing with the most that day: Valery and Shenkov? Thaniel and Mori? Merrick and Raphael? Joe and Kite? It varies.)

The Stand, by Stephen King (I also really want to put Holly in that spot, I just finished it and I haven't loved a Stephen King book like that since The Stand - the only reason I didn't is because Holly is, at least for now, the last book in a series that is a spin-off of a series and every other book in those series don't hit the level of Holly, at all.)

Anxious People, by Fredrik Backman (this can also act as a stand-in for A Man Called Ove as well since I love them both for the exact same reason - they believe in the best in people. They make you feel better about humanity in general.)

The House in the Cerulean Sea, by TJ Klune (I will also point out that I have yet to read a TJ Klune book I haven't loved and that is not an insignificant amount now. This one is an older queer love story with the added bonus of found family. It's magical and heart-full and kind)

Project Hail Mary, by Andy Weir (Also a big lover of The Martian but this has something extra special for me - the alien was unique and I cared so much about every character that even glanced across the pages.)

Vera Wong's Unsolicited Advice for Murderers, by Jesse Q. Sutanto (I laughed, I loved, I goggled at Vera's incredible ability to bring people together - a more motley crew of people there is not and yet somehow Vera not only makes it work, she makes them family <3)

Special shoutout to Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus, I read this semi-recently (within the last year) so I don't know if my gaga-ness with it will fade or not but right now I'm like: this should absolutely be on this list, I just don't know if that's gonna hold or not. The writing is absolutely gorgeous and the plot is perfect, I just don't know if it's top ten nine perfect, y'know? Also to S.A. Cosby - Razorblade Tears is literally hanging off the end of this list by its fingernails (also read everything else by him because it's all good!).

Ongoing series - that either aren't finished or that I haven't finished so they're not cemented yet (aka Maddie cheats so she can have more spots): The Thursday Murder Club series, by Richard Osman (it's up to four books now and they are absolute perfection - it's a series that believes the best in people, even its villains, no one is allowed to be one note and you never know who it's going to pick up and keep forever), The Monk & Robot series, by Becky Chambers (it's just such a quiet, peaceful little sci-fi series that loves its characters and tea), Empire of the Vampire, by Jay Kristoff (absolutely no notes on the first book, I was stressed out and ravenous), The Infernal War Saga, by Hailey Turner (pitch perfect first two books, I'm obsessed with everyone and, like, borderline too into Honovi and Blaine??), Legends & Lattes, by Travis Baldree (this book is kind and it's found family and it's Cozy High Fantasy, like, who even knew how badly I needed that?! - a prequel is due out next month!), The Expanse series, by James S.A. Corey (okay, I know this is done but I am only through book six, though so far absolutely every one has been perfect), The Amina al-Sirafi Series, by S.A. Chakraborty (the first book is so good, which I am zero percent surprised by because I five-starred my way all the way through The Daevabad Trilogy as well!), and the Susan Ryeland series, by Anthony Horowitz (these mysteries are absolutely right up my alley - because who's investigating them? An editor of the first book's murdered author. I hope he can manage to keep these going because they are so damn good!)

tagged: @andavs, @maichan808, @callunavulgari, @midnightisquiet, @bleep0bleep, @petals42, @emeraldawn, @melowdeee, @alocalband, also anyone else who wants to do this - i love seeing people's literature tastes!!

[sunny6677]

EPIC X SPOOKY MONTH AU!!

Part 3: The Ocean Saga.

@mayisgoingnuts @matcharabbit @crossover-enthusiast @luzxii @catsockpuppet

Summary:

After the incident with the Cyclops, Lila is sent on a storm-filled journey across the sea, being prevented from her return to home at every turn. But she ends up finding an island in the sky, which may end up having the answer for her return to home.

However, will everyone on the ship comply with this answer, or will some start to be filled with doubt?

————

When it begins to sprinkle, and become gradually more rainy as they sail away—everyone is in visible distress, especially some of the kids since they're gonna have to kill the sheep. John kinda argues with a few people on board, who reluctantly agree to put the sheep out of their misery so they can eat it. As they kill the sheep though, Lila appears to be visibly spacing out as she holds her son—processing what the fuck just happened with shock. Jaune, on the other hand, is still crying—and though she hasn't directly said it, something about her way of sobbing causes Ross to know something happened to his dad, and leads to him slowly hugging her back in shock or even maybe crying a little himself. As they sail, the staff still tries to calm them down, saying now that they have food, they'll be able to get everyone back without worrying about whether or not they'll starve. Some are still frantic though.

The kitchen staff cook the sheep that was brought onto the ship—while John slowly eats some of it, thinking about what just happened to Jack. He starts to wonder how any of this can be real, or what that even was, or how they'll get back. While Skid tries to comfort a still very spaced out Lila—and ends up going out to play with Pump at some point. But as Lila is ruminating over what occurred, she ends up coming across John who she has a sad conversation with. And as they're talking, it suddenly grows even more windy outside. In fact, it begins to storm. VERYYYY VERYYY heavily. So Lila goes out in the middle of the storm just to pull Skid inside, and eventually the storm gets so bad everyone has to head inside. Nobody knows this on the ship, but as they keep trying to sail, the storm gets progressively worse. And anytime they even dare to find some way that'll get them home, the storm worsens and literally blows them away from that area—as if trying to prevent their escape or their return. They don't know this either, but they end up being stuck doing this for about 5 years, practically praying for the storming to stop—at least Gregor is anyway. Some are desperate enough to pray with him though.

However, during one storm, they happen to spot something in the sky when it happens to do it's rare occasion of clearing up—something hidden within the clouds. Skid happens to be the one who ends up spotting it, and realizes that it's a fucking floating island in the sky for some reason. He points it out to everyone who's who's as confused, but mesmerized as he is. And they all try to find out what the hell to do about it since that's certainly something they didn't expect to see. They think of maybe ignoring it, but they're kinda desperate to see if anything will stop the storming. So they all come up with a plan to get someone up there, and check the place out. After some discussing, it surprisingly ends up being Patty who agrees to go up there. John is a bit anxious about this idea since he doesn't wanna lose her too, but she promises that if something happens, she'll get back down if she can. They try to find out what they can possibly get her up there with, and surprisingly end up finding a harpoon (which they didn't think the ship would have but ehh)—so though none of them know how to fucking shoot one, Frank grabs the harpoon and shoots it up.

After that, Patty is preparing to go up, and wraps a rope around herself to be attached just incase she needs to be pulled back down. John seems very much against this, and Lila does as well—but she wants to find a way to stop the storm too. So she volunteers to go with Patty to ensure nothing happens. John immediately protests against this, so much so in fact that it leads to a minor argument between him and Lila. They end up concluding that Lila can go with Patty after some arguing though, and after some convincing from Lila's side. So John grumpily watches with doubt alongside the others as both Lila and Patty crawl up there on the rope attached to the harpoon.

When they finally crawl all the way up there after some struggling and some talk, they crawl onto the island—which resembles a castle or lair of some kind. The area is filled with clouds, and elegant curtains—and they can both hear the sounds of wind chiming, sparkling and just wind in general. The area is very weird—and neither of them have any idea what the place is. But Patty makes the decision to awkwardly speak incase anyone might be here. She begins to awkwardly ask if there's anyone who can help. To which a response ends up actually coming, because seconds after, Patty swears she can see a pair of two glowing white eyes appear and then vanish from behind a curtain. She begins to speak again, this time pleading for help. Her pleas are met with silence, before she turns around to see a woman with flowy white hair (wearing what almost looks like a blue gym type uniform) grinning back at her and floating toward her. She scares the shit out of both Lila and Patty, with Lila almost attacking her. But she's able to dodge the attack—and just giggles at their fear. She tells them that she just came because she heard what they said. This kinda calms them down, but they decide to ask who she is. She identifies herself as 'Aeolus', and as the 'wind who gives the fire enough to stay burning'. Despite much confusion of what that even means, Aeolus says that she'll help so long as they agree to play a game, where if they win, they'll get what they want (which is to get back home). Reluctantly, they agree after asking a few more questions, and Aeolus pulls out a small bag with a strange swirly symbol on it. She tosses it over to Patty—and then informs them that apparently, it has the winds of the storm all trapped inside (which will be good enough to keep the storm from further preventing their return), and that all she has to do is just not open the bag. They both agree to it, but Lila decides to ask further since it sounds suspicious. Aeolus laughs, and makes a vague speech about how she has to 'keep their friends close and their enemies closer', with her own little minion creature guys chiming in and saying very ominous things as well (like about how they don't know who they can trust and that sometimes killing is something they'll have to do). This creeps both of them out understandably, but they heed Aeolus' warning, take the bag, and start to head back down.

When they head back down, they hop onto the ship with everyone questioning them about what happened or what the bag is for etc etc (and also Skid goes to hug Lila when she's back down). They inform everyone that the bag was something they got from a 'strange lady up in the island', and basically say that she said that everything in the storm was inside the bag and would keep the storm from further preventing their escape. However, some of Aeolus' minions crawl down while invisible and start to whisper some doubt about whether or not they're telling the truth into their ears. Some are very skeptical of what they're saying, including ones like Kevin and John—but they all very hesitantly agree to not open the bag just to see if they're telling the truth about it. The staff starts to sail the ship again after everyone murmurs about the ship, anddd... well, it's no longer storming! Neither are there any harsh winds either. They're able to actually sail without any troubles, and though they have some hang-ups, they manage to pilot it just fine. And after another few years of being so far away, they actually begin to reach where they were when they went onto the ship the first time! Meaning they're now close to home. A lot of them have been awake for days though, including certain staff members. Especially Lila who is stressed and is more or less just relieved she's finally gonna get home. She starts to kinda doze off though while leaning over the mast of the ship—but.. she ends up hearing some shuffling from behind her after a dream about Skiddad yelling at her to wake up. She ends up waking up forcibly, and sees that the bag is now open with tons of people surrounding it. A sharp gust of wind IMMEDIATELY sets in and starts blowing them farther and farther away from the town. Lila begins to freak out, falling over onto the ship. Skid rushes over to help her, and everyone begins to panic as it starts to storm yet again like it hadn't for years. While everyone is frantically walking around on the ship and trying to find out what happened or who opened the bag, Lila spots John and tells him to close the bag, and he ends up doing so—while the staff members go to frantically control the ship.

Lila ends up spotting Aeolus floating nearby though as John is in the process of closing the bag—she asks where it's even taking them, and Aeolus smiles while saying that since they didn't keep the bag closed even though she said to, she guesses they're heading to the 'Land of The Giant'.

Finally, after frantic screaming, and the sudden vanishing of Roy (implied to have been blown away by the wind and into the ocean)—the ship finally comes to a stop at a nearby high mountain. And everyone breathes heavily, trying to find out what happened. While Carmen frantically keeps saying Roy's name and asking where he is. Ross and Robert are looking around, not knowing how to process it since they saw him get blown away—and are frantically looking back at where he got blown away. But as they're all trying to process what just happened—a loud, raspy, booming voice yells from behind the mountain they stopped at.

"LILA LAVENDER OF SEDONAH!"

There's silence, as they all look back to where the voice came from. Lila stops, looking up when she processes her name being said.

"...do you know who I am?"

The voice asks eerily.

Everyone is quiet, still wondering what that was and all turning back to look at Lila—who slowly gets up. She speaks reluctantly, asking who this is that speaks to her. And there's silence, before they hear the same voice laugh, and then a very large water-like hand suddenly BOOMS from behind the mountain, slamming down onto it. A looming figure begins to rise from behind it, seeming entirely made of water and quite muscular, resembling a man with a crown over his head. All of them go into shock, slowly backing up and not knowing who tf this is—especially Lila.

The figure finally stops rising, and begins to speak about how it isn't very often that he gets pissed off, and tries to keep everything gracious and calm with his waters. And remarks, "But, oh.. you've crossed the line, Lila."

Lila is understandably confused since she doesn't know what he's talking about, and yet again, she asks who he is. He seems puzzled, before identifying himself as the 'ruler of the seas and storms'—but says he doesn't need to say what his name is since it doesn't matter. He starts to raise his voice in anger though, asking her if she knows what she's done, and why she's acting so confused when she hurt his son purposefully. This confuses her further, causing the figure to angrily state that the 'Cyclops' that she ended up blinding was HIS. As in, his son.

(So yeah that is implying the Cyclops is a young child technically speaking, which also implies John may or may not have accidentally gave a technical child alcohol/lh)

Confused, but distressed, Lila tries to back up as he slowly raises a hand and sends a gigantic series of waves which crash over the ship—and specifically shoves HER over against the mast of a ship with a gigantic wave. Everyone starts to panic, get injured or cry as he even starts to move his hands around so much that the ship literally starts to spin. This causes the wind bag to nearly tumble over though, and Lila tries to grab it. She struggles, which leads to John and a few others rushing over to help her—and the pilot starts trying to sail the ship further away from the figure. Who simply insults Lila for thinking she can get away, saying she could have easily avoided all of this if she just straight up killed his son. He vanishes briefly, appearing again next to the ship and sending a fuck ton of waves down onto the ship, dragging the pilot into the ocean with one particular wave and killing him. The figure keeps doing this for a while, angrily screaming at all of them, until he finally stops and looks over all the damage he's done while Lila holds onto her son desperately to protect him. The figure begins to growl about how he's going to kill her for what she did, unless she apologizes. And though this sounds suspicious, she stands up and begins to apologize—saying she didn't know it was his son and never meant any harm. And Gregor even apologizes along with her. Etc etc.

Though the apology is seemingly sincere, the figure doesn't buy it and says that the line between naivety and hopefulness is almost invisible. He brings two LARGEEEE large waves down onto the ship—telling them all to die, before they all crash down. A series of more severe waves start to crash onto the wave. One ends up dragging Mayor Evermore away, along with Radford (due to him trying to save Robert and being dragged away in the process), Gregor himself, and Mr Wonder (who was probably gonna die anyway cuz of how old he is now), and several other people in town.

The figure finally stops after a while, leaving them all in shock. Lila looks up, crying slowly as she begins to see bodies rise up from the water, along with the debris of the ship. The figure says that there are now 43 left on the ship. Lila falls to her knees, breathing heavily and asking why over and over. The figure doesn't respond, simply telling her he's her darkest moment, and the shadow who always draws near. He tells her she never had any chance of escape. Slowly, he pulls out a large trident and points it at the ship—asking her if she has any last words.

..as Lila is about to speak, she spots the wind bag from earlier in the ocean. With a frantic pull, she grabs it from the ocean, and opens it. The figure tries to ask what she's doing, but the wind starts again—forcing him to scream and move away. The ship is forced to move further away as well. Everyone frantically holds on as they get further and further away from the figure, until all the winds vanish into nothingness—and the ship slowly comes near another tropical island.

Everyone speaks all at once, trying to find out what to do now. And as Lila looks up, she swear she sees the ruler glaring at her, mouthing something.

All she can make out, as she holds onto her son, is:

'..remember me.'

[quohotos]

So about the Serpents in the Prophecy of Bane...

I'm almost certain this is an allusion to Jules Verne's seminal piece of speculative fiction about going underground Journey to the Center of the Earth. Exerpt from the Wikipedia page:

The story begins in May 1863, at the home of Professor Otto Lidenbrock in Hamburg, Germany. While leafing through an original runic manuscript of an Icelandic saga, Lidenbrock and his nephew Axel find a coded note written in runic script along with the name of a 16th-century Icelandic alchemist, Arne Saknussemm. When translated into English, the note reads:

Go down into the crater of Snaefells Jökull, which Scartaris's shadow caresses just before the calends of July, O daring traveler, and you'll make it to the center of the earth. I've done so. Arne Saknussemm

Lidenbrock departs for Iceland immediately, taking the reluctant Axel with him. After a swift trip via Kiel and Copenhagen, they arrive in Reykjavík. There they hire as their guide Icelander Hans Bjelke, a Danish-speaking eiderduck hunter, then travel overland to the base of Snæfellsjökull.

In late June they reach the volcano and set off into the bowels of the earth, encountering many dangers and strange phenomena. After taking a wrong turn, they run short of water and Axel nearly perishes, but Hans saves them all by tapping into a subterranean river, which shoots out a stream of water that Lidenbrock and Axel name the "Hansbach" in the guide's honor.Édouard Riou's illustration of an ichthyosaurus (which is actually more like a mosasaurus) battling a plesiosaurus.

Following the course of the Hansbach, the explorers descend many miles and reach an underground world, with an ocean and a vast ceiling with clouds, as well as a permanent Aurora giving light. The travelers build a raft out of semipetrified wood and set sail. While at sea, they encounter prehistoric fish such as Pterichthyodes (here called "Pterichthys") Dipterus (referred to as "Dipterides") and giant marine reptiles from the Age of the Dinosaurs, namely an Ichthyosaurus and a Plesiosaurus. A lightning storm threatens to destroy the raft and its passengers, but instead throws them onto the site of an enormous fossil graveyard, including bones from the Pterodactylus, Megatherium, Deinotherium, Glyptodon, a mastodon and the preserved body of a prehistoric man.

So that's our culprit. That basically fits the description of the Serpents. Thought that was just a cool detail and reference.

The underground jungle is an element that you could potentially say is also an allusion to Verne, though I think the version in the underland chronicles is significantly different since the depiction in Journey to the center of the earth has light from above whereas all the plants in the underland are basically carnivores and/or feed off of volcanic heat.

It's also possible that this allusion is not deliberate, as much like War of the Worlds, Journey to the Center of the Earth has basically been subsumed into pop culture cannon and referenced so many times that a lot of it's unique elements have just become tropes. Dinotopia also used dinosaurs in a cave surviving the asteroid, Minecraft, Terraria, Spelunky, Noita, and basically any other video game that involves digging will at some point put a Verne styled underground jungle in there.

One YA series that leans really hard into the Journey to the Center of the Earth inspirations is the Tunnels series. I actually read them in 6th grade to attempt to scratch my TUC itch. Let me tell you, they're not as good and don't even come close. Whereas TUC has some tasteful allusions, Tunnels goes all in. The underground people are more evil (if that's possible) and are intent on wiping out all life on the surface. Worst of all, it's set in England!!! There's cool world building, but no giant talking bats so I have no choice but to award it zero stars. It was supposed to be turned into a movie in 2009 and all the books got stickers for that... said movie appears to have never materialized.

Idk, something I thought about while listening to today's @returntoregalia episode

Okay bonus details about how I made this connection: As a kid, wishbone would come on once a week at like 4 pm or something, I didn't get to see it often, but I vividly remember one of the episodes. For anyone who doesn't know, wishbone was PBS show that followed a dog and his human family as they go through some struggle that wishbone (the dog) finds allegorical to a piece of classic, public domain literature. The episodes are split in half with the parts in the present, and the reenactments within the dog's imagination of the classic piece of literature. In one of the few episodes I caught was about Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth. I do not recall how this novel was relevant to the characters lives, all I know is that it's way to long to fit into half of a 20 minute episode, so they had to really rush through a lot of parts. In one shot the characters are in this jungle and they run away from a Plesiosaurus puppet.

[cinderellaenjoyer]

Epic: The Swap Saga - The Vengance Saga

I'll probably rewrite the other Sagas to fit the new roles soon, but with the realse of the Vengance Saga, here's how it would go in the Swap Saga!

I feel like Polities would sing a sort of reprise of Open Arms, wishing Scylla safe journey on her travels. He's going to go back to being lonely and stuck on the island till he dies, but he's happy for the memories they could share together.

Scylla's on her raft, petting her dog heads, missing her crew, when Athena shows up to help her out. Dangerous would take a somewhat more serious but still pretty funky tone. Athena gives Scylla a bag of wind, and tells her if she opens it, she'll never get back to her lair.

"Athena! Thank you."

"Don't thank me, I'm not the one who fought for you."

Scylla has a run in with Telemachus, a 20-year old fuelled by anxiety and rage. Idk why they're fighting here maybe Ody told Tele about Syclla and Telemachus wanted to prove his strength by fighting her. Anyways Telemachus' looses but don't worry! He lives! Syclla's just about to reach her lair, when Uh Oh Storm Clouds

Aelous! Told you they'd be back. Get in the Water would be more mocking here. Oh you're a Sea Monster? I don't care, you're getting in the water or I'll blow your lair and friend and sister away. Scylla is like 'bro chill it's been 10 years' and Aelous is like 'No. Get Wind Blasted idiot.' They blow a wind so strong Scylla falls into the water, nearly drowns, but the voices of Calypso, Circe and the 600 nympths fuel her into not dying.

Scylla uses a combo of the Wind bag and her dog heads to propell herself into the air to beat the crap out of Aelous. They land on some rocks. Aelous is like 'LMAO now you'll never get home' to which Scylla responds 'No you're gonna call off the storm.'

"Or what? You can't kill me."

"Exactly."

Scylla has her heads straight up BITE and GRAB Aelous' limbs, bashing them against the rocks. "How does it feel to be helpless?!" as Aelous begs her to stop. They eventually cave and agree to stop the storm.

"After all that you've done...how will you sleep?"

"At home."

[justonecitizenoftheearth]

So, I wrote this story a while ago:

This is a fanfiction about an old norse text! My friend proofread my final thesis about men who used a certain kind of magic in ancient northern Europe. This kind of magic is very strongly connected to women, so men using it were seen as unmanly, or ergi in old norse, which is also a term used for gay men. There is one story in the Heimskringla, a text about the first kings of Norway, about 80 wizards who practice this magic called seiðr living together. My friend liked the gay wizard commune very much, was very disappointed by their gruesome end, and asked for a fix-it. So here it is: The Saga of Rögnvald réttilbeini!

AAANNND: It has a sequel now (or more of an addition)!! You are holding in your hands (metaphorically):

The Travels of Rögnvald Rettilbeini

When Rögnvald leaves the oppressive enclosure of living with his disapproving family and community, he sets out on a travel through the Wilderness of middle-age Norway. Alone with nature around him, he learns to listen to the voices of the forest around him and trust his instincts and intuition. He makes it through a beautiful summer and a tough winter, but questions start to plague him when the loneliness of his solitary life becomes more and more of a burden. Is he cursed to only find shelter away from other people? Will he never belong anywhere but the solitude of the forest?

Read it on AO3

Rating: G

WARNING! This is about wilderness survival, and that includes hunting and killing animals, as well as processing their bodies. If that is something that you don´t want to read about, this story is unfortunately not for you.

@disorganisedautodidact

@fiifuchs

At the gate, Rögnvald hesitated. He was about to leave his home behind. His whole world, up to this day. His heart clenched, thinking about his grandmother. Rögnvald was about to turn his head, to look back at the long hall of his father, and the rest of the town. But then the memory of all the harassment, the bad looks he had endured for years, the pressure and disappointment flooded back. This was not a home. This was no place to stay. Solveig was gone and he would never be free to be who he was if he stayed here. With a deep breath, Rögnvald stepped over the threshold. The mountains were calling, and he had to go.

The forest embraced him like every time and soothed his wounded heart. The soft rustle of leaves and branches, the hum of insects and the occasional call of a bird welcomed him, and he lifted his head from his feet to watch the sun filter through the clouds and trees to paint intricate patterns onto the mossy forest floor. Rögnvalds steps were effortlessly soundless as he moved on, without haste, but steadily upwards. The wind carried the smell of the ocean up to him, salt and algae and freshness and he took a deep breath and smiled. This was home, and it was everywhere. With a new confidence in his movements, he lifted his head up to the sky.

The bright summer night found Rögnvald sitting on the edge of a small, but steep river. He crouched down on a rock, with his fishing spear in one hand and the other hand pressed against the wet stone. He closed his eyes and listened to the song of the water, the many different voices of it´s symphony, the wind whistling over the gorge, the flutter of a bird’s wing. He felt the force of the river striving towards the sea and the creatures in it, reading it´s direction, following or opposing it´s strong current. The heard the splash of a Dipper diving into the water and shortly after reemerging with its catch, struggling for a moment to climb to shore. He heard an eagle, a bit upstream, waiting for its chance. Slowly, he opened his eyes, just a slit, motionless he waited, part of the land, part of the hunt. He felt his prey approaching, before he saw a single scale. He caressed the fish with soft thoughts, coaxing it closer and closer and with a single movement, he speared the trout. Carefully, he pulled the fish out, marveling at the colorful body. “Thank you”, he whispered to the wind, before he took his catch back to his little fire at the ground of the gorge.

Rögnvald didn´t have a plan where to go, he didn´t have anywhere to be. He stayed close to the gorge for three days, then he moved on. He slept under the stars when the weather was nice and clear and under fallen trees and big boulders when it wasn´t. Some of the boulders he knew weren´t his to use and he avoided them. Sometimes he had something to leave there, a nice rock he had found, a feather, a piece of fish or meat. He left it at the edge of the rock and good things always followed. Either he found an even better spot to spend the night, or he stumbled upon a batch of or wild strawberries, or he had a particularly good hunt that evening. He learned to respect the forest folk and they respected him. Rögnvald learned to listen to all the voices of the forest, his inner voice included. With every day, he trusted his instincts and intuitions more until the decisions he had to make every day to ensure his survival came so naturally to him that he stopped realizing they were decisions. He started living like one of the other forest creatures, free and without worries, without plans and without a real sense for the time passing. He sang with the birds and wolves, danced with the wind and leaves, hunted with the bears and eagles, hid from stormy weathers with the hares and mice or endured it with the pines and willows.

Of course, it wasn´t always easy. Sometimes the fish and game ignored his calls and he had to go hungry, since it wasn´t time for berries or mushrooms yet and wild herbs did only get him so far, but in this situations, he often remembered something that his grandmother had told him, but that he hadn´t used since then. When he stomped through an overgrown meadow, the smell of the crushed plants rose to his nose and he realized it was ground elder. Together with the stinging nettles he found, it made a rich dinner[1] . The geese came back to breed and he had eggs and the occasional goose. Summer came in all its richness and he drank blueberry soup until his lips were permanently blue. One precious day he found a nest of wild bees and the stings were worth the feast. When he left the place, he saw a bear trot out from the trees. Cautious, Rögnvald stopped, but when their eyes met, he saw a kind of companionship that he hadn´t expected. Part of the forest, part of the dance of life. He smiled and licked his honeyed lips.

Life around him flourished and the days were long, there was no darkness anymore, just a soft twilight in the quiet hours of the deep night that soon blossomed in another bright day. Rögnvald swam in the mountain lakes and cold rivers, then he lay in the sun until it had dried and warmed his cold skin. He was lean and muscular, tanned of the countless days under the summer sun. His step was soft and sure and his eyes calm and keen as a wild animal´s. He seldomly talked, not even to himself, he rather imitated the many beings around him. His days in the constricting closeness of the town seemed to be bland and far, far away.

The mountains around him rose higher and higher up into the sky. Rögnvald kept to the valleys at first, following the rivers coming down from the heights. He fished and hunted, collected berries, made tea from the fresh new tips of spruces, and dug for edible roots. Summer followed him up the mountains, making life flourish around him. One morning, he looked up at the barren summits of the surrounding mountains and took up his staff. He left the valley, finding a path between the overgrown trees and boulders in the forest. He climbed up over steep passages, moving left and right to find the safest way up to the top. The trees around him dwindled, they lessened in height, then in number, opening a path for him. He had to balance over the cover of blueberry bushes and needed his staff more than once when he stepped into an invisible hole. But the vegetation around him grew shorter and the wind sharper. He looked up and saw a wondrous land. Grim and rough, but full of a foreign beauty. Barren rock and low bushes lay scattered over the plateau. He saw water glittering in the distance and the wind whistled over the open land. A few reindeer grazed in the distance and the clouds moved fast over the blue sky. And then he turned around.

The view was breathtaking. Far below, he saw the valley of the river that he had followed. Only in a few places the trees drew back enough to allow the glint of the water to reach Rögnvalds eyes. The forest below swayed in the breeze. The mountains on the other side of the valley rose up even higher into the sky then the ones that he had just climbed. A white sheet of snow and ice covered their tops, and ran down into the cracks in the mountain sides. On the way down, the ice crumbled, crevasses crossing and breaking up the smooth surface, unveiling a shimmer of the deepest blue. Rögnvald stared at the mighty glacier, following the lines of the breaking ice. Cloud shadows drifted over the snow-covered surface and drew patterns on it. The wind changed direction and carried the icy cold over the mountains, raising goosebumps on Rögnvalds arms. He tilted his head and when he looked at the glacier again, his newfound instincts started to ring an alarm in his head, louder and louder. This was not his place. It looked beautiful and smooth, like a walk on a fluffy cloud, but the bitter cold and the multitude of cracks in the ice were a warning to all who would hear it. This was not a place that would suffer a living being setting foot on it. This was the land of gods and giants. Rögnvald bowed his head in understanding and turned around again, to face the barren tundra he had worked so hard for to reach.

The mountain plateau was littered with little lakes and wetlands. Rögnvald saw a multitude of different birds, he heard their warning calls, and they fluttered around him as he explored the new land. After the weeks in the forest, he felt exposed in this open landscape, the wide-open sky a stark contrast to the cover of leaves he had rarely left. The reindeer avoided him, but he saw a wolverine following their tracks and kept his distance. A polar fox looked at him curiously, but then continued to hunt for ptarmigans. The traveler considered to follow his example, but looking around, he found that he would not find enough material for a fire, so he decided to wait until he would make his way back to the valley. The plants he found were so interesting though that he forgot about time.[2]  He found blueberries, lingonberries, and cloudberries. It seemed that the vegetation on the protected southern slopes was completely different from the barren tops or the northern slopes and Rögnvald collected and explored until the sun sank behind one of the flat mountain tops. He frowned, since he hadn´t planned on staying in the open tundra throughout the night, but he had come prepared anyways.

Rögnvald found a grassy, dry spot next to a stream where he sat down. The birds settled for the night and fell quiet one by one. Nothing could be heard except for the wind and the murmur of water. Rögnvald spread out his fur and blanket and ate some of his dried provisions while the shadows grew deeper. He closed his eyes and stretched his mind to the land in a gentle plea to leave him in peace during the night, as he would bring nothing but peace during the dark hours. Then he curled up in his blanket and fell asleep to the sweet song of the running water close to him.

A strange light woke him up at an unusual time. He was used to the light summer nights, but they had been diminishing, the darkness crawling back in the small hours. But now, as he opened his eyes, he was met by a clear sky, littered with stars. The northern horizon was still a bit light, but the dark sky above him, unobscured by trees, houses, or the shine of torches, looked like a coat covered in diamond shards. Never had Rögnvald slept under a sky that open and for a moment, he dug his hands into the grass underneath him, scared of falling in the endlessness above. But then he did nothing but marvel, until the eastern horizon turned pink with the dawn of the new day and the stars blinked out. Then Rögnvald fell asleep again, feeling richer and smaller than ever before.

On the way back to his valley, Rögnvald shot two ptarmigans, as he had planned. He couldn´t help but notice the first leaves of the dwarf birches turning yellow. “Autumn always sends his messengers ahead of time”, he thought, already dreaming about the ptarmigans sizzling over his fire.

Until he woke one morning, and the world was covered in a thin layer of white. It melted soon enough, but winter would come, and he had to be prepared for it. So Rögnvald turned around and made his way towards the shore, out of the mountains that would turn into a frozen wasteland soon enough. The fjords always bore the risk of meeting people, but at least they would stay open during the winter. Rögnvald found a cave next to a small river that he would be able to follow down to the Sørfjorden, and he began to prepare. He collected grass and dried it in the last warm days of the year. He collected more firewood than he could think of ever needing, and wild apples, berries and mushrooms, which he dried as well. One more time he made his way up to the high mountains to hunt. He got into a terrible snowstorm and only the familiar valley singing its sweet song led him back to safety, but he was dragging a reindeer with him to the cave.

Drying the meat and working on the skin of the reindeer took days of hard, frustrating, and dirty work and when Rögnvald looked up again, the forest floor was covered with fallen leaves. It made it easy to hear the rustle of paws and Rögnvald hunted smaller prey, rabbits and deer, the work seemed never ending and the shortening days were filled with preserving everything he had collected. He dried the sinews of the animals and kept them smooth with their fat, then used them to sew gloves, a hat, and gaiters for himself. He coated his leather boots with the same fat to make them waterproof and added an inner layer of duck down, so they would keep himself warm. The nights turned frosty, and the edges of the river wore ice in the mornings. The sun only peeked over the mountain tops in midday and barely warmed Rögnvald anymore. The land grew quiet, and he grew anxious. Had he done enough? Had he forgotten something? How long would the winter last in this part of the land? Would the fjord stay open, so he would be able to live off of the sea if nothing else? He desperately missed Solveig and not being alone. For the first time since he had left, he missed the voices of other people around him, the comfort of not being the only human being in an unforgiving and harsh wilderness. He awoke at night with wet cheeks and an aching chest and wondered if that was the price for being himself and if he was willing to pay it.

Winter came, unforgiving and uncaring and more beautiful than Rögnvald remembered. The glittering snow and ice made him reach out more than once in wonder, only to have the unique crystals melt on his gloves. Then the days turned dark and bitingly cold for real and Rögnvald barely left his cave. He barred the entrance and only left space for the smoke of his fire to escape. The inside of the cave turned smoky anyways and he sank into a kind of waiting slumber. He slept most of the time, having dark and light and wonderous and frightening dreams, barely noticing whether it was night or day, eating when he was hungry and watching a spot of light that came through a hole in the cover of the barricade wander of the side of his cave when the sun shone for precious few hours. One day he thought with a smile that he would never look at bears and squirrels the same. His thoughts became slow and drowsy, but one night he startled awake and knew that the longest night  had come. He felt dark powers stir and struggled out of bed to relight the fire. With a stumbling mind and shaking fingers he fought with the reluctant embers, mumbling invocations to the forces of nature and the gods of life and fertility. He strew sage into the flames and the fresh smell lifted the fog in his head a bit. With the clarity came the crushing awareness of how alone he was. The deadly forces that awoke in the darkest time of the year screamed and whispered cruel things in his mind and he swayed back and forth in front of the flames. Then he heard a different voice, the voice of his grandmother. He heard her soft songs of live and growth and warmth and with a breaking voice, he joined in. Singing and crying, he made it through the night.

Rögnvald stayed more awake during the dangerous days between the years, and every day, the sun stayed longer. But the cold wouldn´t retreat for a long time and he looked at his shrinking provisions with worry. He had known that they wouldn´t bring him through the winter, but he hadn´t expected his own apathy. Now he would have to go out again to hunt and forage what he could find.

Rögnvald started to lay out traps for snow hares and birds and made his way down to the fjord. He collected clams and oysters, but getting his hands wet was painful and dangerous. He tried to fish, but the fish stayed in deeper waters where he couldn´t reach them. At least he could keep the kelp that he pulled out of the sea to eat. On the way back he checked his traps. One had been successful, but a lynx had found his catch before he did, and he found just one foot and some bloody fur in the snow. Rögnvald shrugged, he was not the only being trying to survive the winter. He would try again the next day. He made soup out of the clams and kelp and dozed off, tired from the walk through the high snow.

The next day came with howling winds and snowdrifts. With worry in his belly, he ate the last of his soup. He still had some provisions, but they wouldn´t last much longer and if he got sick or hurt, he wouldn´t survive without them. So Rögnvald kept to tea and decided to wait.

The storm lasted for days and after that, it was nearly impossible to leave the cave. Rögnvald swallowed hard when he saw the wall of frozen white that awaited him in front of his door. His heart clenched painfully, and he knew instinctively that  he would have to fight for his survival from now on. He dug a way out into the snow, but soon understood that it would be impossible to get down to the fjord in one day. Instead, he dug his way to the river and hoped other beings would find their way there, but it was frozen and wouldn´t provide water to any being. Fear gripped his heart tight. Would this first winter be his last? Why didn´t he prepare sooner? Why didn´t he think about winter when there was an abundance of everything? Why had he been so stupid, stupid enough to die in the winter of the first year he had tasted how sweet life could be? He felt his chest getting tight and he stood in the freezing wind, tears cooling on his skin and gasping for air. Then he balled his fists. His blood was still flowing, and his arms were not yet stiff and cold. He was not dead yet! 

Rögnvald wiped his face and closed his eyes. He forced his fear back until he was as indifferent to it as to the rustling of the wind in the bare branches. He listened with all his senses. He listened to the wind above him and searched for life in the river below. He thought of the lynx that could hear mice rustling in their burrows, even under the ground and a snow cover half as thick as a man tall. He thought of the raven, soaring above, and searching the white wilderness for signs of carrion. He thought of the wolves, following the scent of reindeers for days. He listened deep into this vast wilderness. There was a lake, and still fish in the depths of it. There was better weather coming, no tinkling of new snowflakes came from the clouds above. There were still animals in the woods around, and he would find them. He would survive!

Rögnvald prepared fishing rods and bait, he took his axe and made his way up to the frozen lake. It was hard work to hack a hole into the thick ice, but when he lowered the bait on the hook into the dark water and filled his waterskin with it, he couldn´t help but hope. He searched the surrounding forest for tracks and laid out traps for rabbits, foxes, or other small game. Then he waited. He huddled himself in the fur and shuddered. The wind drew mesmerizing patterns into the snow. The sun was veiled by a thin layer of clouds, casting a shadowless half-light from its position low over the horizon. Rögnvald listened to the gurgle of water, the groaning of the thick icesheet under his feet, the whisper of the wind. He heard the low rustling and thumping of snow falling off of trees. He heard the bright tingling in the clouds, almost out of his hearing range, the sound of snowflakes being swept away, blown off the mountains in the harsh wind. He closed his eyes and listened. The wind. The snow. He heard a snuffling under the snow and the quiet, so quiet squeak of a mouse. A crunching sound in the forest spoke of big paws that broke the surface of the snow. A lynx, listening to the same quiet sounds of life that he was. Then he sent his attention to the water that was splashing against the sides of the ice hole, already starting to freeze over. He breathed deep as if he was about to plunge into the freezing depth, and sent his spirit down. It was dark. Cold. Nothing moved. He moved deeper. There, a dark shape, flowing in a weak current. Some kind of seaweed. And then, a fin. A plump body. Slow movements. Rögnvald almost heard the voice of his grandmother. He felt a power rush through him, the ancient drive to survive, the hunger, the desperation. And something different. Something more than he was, more than he could understand, but he gripped it tight, and called. He coaxed and tempted, gave the plump body some of his power, some of his hunger, showed the way to the bait, gave the fish an impression of the satisfaction that he had felt eating the same food. Begged and threatened and poured everything he had into making the fish do something that he wanted it to do. And he startled awake back into his body when the fishing rod in his hand started to jump.

That night, Rögnvald curled up as close to the fire as he dared, sucking every bit of meat off the thin bones of the fish, while trying to ignore the bit that was wrapped in a bit of bark. He would be glad for it the next morning. And he was, since the traps came back empty, and he didn´t find a fish to call. Everything became a struggle. Digging the way to the shore. Keeping the fire going. Finding enough wood to feed it. Going out to find food, day after day. He felled a birch, taking the outer layer of bark for the fire and scraped off the soft bark underneath, baking dry bark bread. The cold sapped him of energy and he tried to spend as little time outside as possible, laying down and resting whenever he could. He became cold easier and longed endlessly for light and warmth as snowstorms howled around his shelter and let him shudder. He rolled himself tighter into his furs. A deep-seated instinct told him that if he should fall sick, he wouldn´t see the green of a new spring. He ate any animal that he could catch. He didn´t hesitate to, in his drive to survive he thought as little about morals and fairness as the lynxes and wolves whose trails he found in the snow.

Rögnvald saw the sun rise higher every day. He soaked up the light and warmth, sitting in front of his cave and hiding from the frosty winds, capturing every bit of energy that was sent his way. When the snow started to melt, he had an easier time moving around and could roam farther to look for food and firewood. He watched the snow melt with a grim satisfaction. He had outlasted the winter.

The first green of spring found Rögnvald thin as a bear waking from winter hibernation. His clothes hung loosely around his frame, his face was sharp and angled and his eyes had a wild, intense look that would have taken aback even the fiercest warrior of his town. But there was no one around to witness him fall to his knees when he found the first dandelion, digging it up with the roots, wash it and look at it, disbelieving, until he ate it, leaf by leaf, until he devoured the root in tiny, grateful bites.

The snow persisted still in shadowy spots, defying the strengthened sun and the regular rainfall, when Rögnvald left the cave. He made his way down towards the fjord, and following it on narrow paths north. He didn´t go long each day, still trying to preserve his energy, painfully aware of how little reserves his body had left. But he found progressively more food and with warmth and life returning to the sea, he had more plentiful meals and regained his strength quickly. The warm spring days revived his spirit, and the more varied food did wonders for his body. Soon, he was running through the forest with the deer, as sure on his foot as they, he danced with the birds and called out to the geese returning from their winter quarters. He bathed and washed the grime and fear of the long winter off in the icy melting water that streamed down the mountains and laughed at the glitter of the water drops in the bright light. He found another cave and spent a few rainy days there, just languishing in the knowledge that he wouldn´t have to go far to find food this time. It took Rögnvald some time to follow the fjord up to Hardangerfjord, and he followed even that, but then had to decide whether to stick to the coast or to face the cold and wet mountains. He also found more and more signs of humans and realized that he didn´t know anymore how to meet them. He hid from their view, but listened to the voices, the songs and laughter of the people in their small settlements, a deep longing in his chest and his throat tight. He lounged under their windows, listening to them talking about banal things, banal everyday things that had never seemed sweeter and more precious than to this lone traveler, hiding in the wet grass and biting his hand to not cry aloud at the sound of children playing and their mother´s laugh. Never, he thought, never had anyone been lonelier. But when he heard steps on the threshold of the house, he melted into the forest, as effortless as any animal.

Rögnvald looked at himself in the reflection of a lake, his wild beard and hair, the angled face underneath, his torn and repaired clothes, the rough fur that he wore on top. They would not welcome him, not like this. Also, he didn´t have any money to buy anything and would be treated as a beggar. He still started to comb and braid his hair and beard, so he could travel on the streets without calling attention to himself, but he saw in the eyes of the people that he met that they could feel something was different about him. He avoided their gaze, their confusion, fear, and hostility, even their curiosity. But he didn´t get attacked and sometimes, only sometimes, someone greeted him, and so he decided to take the way through the next town. But almost as soon as he stepped foot into it, he knew that he shouldn´t have. Or at least should have seen this coming.

The road was muddy from the last rainfall, and his boots made a sucking sound every time he took a step. As did the boots of everyone else. The cacophony of people walking and the echoes catching between the wooden wall around the town caught Rögnvald off guard. Then a bunch of children came screeching and giggling around a corner and made him jump. The neigh of a horse and the rumble of a wagon made him flinch away and he knew that people looked at him suspiciously, so he tried to walk away, into the town centre. The sharp angles of the houses seemed to cut into his perception, making the sounds jump into every direction, the narrow passages tightening his chest. He passed by the market, the constant rush of voices, pitchmen trying to sell their goods, clamoring, bargaining with their customers, children, chiding mothers, farm animals grunting, neighing, and clucking. It was unbearable, impossible to grab a clear thought[3] . The smell of humans, food, feces, animals, and the rough ground made him gag. Rögnvald hid behind a corner, pressing his hands over his ears and his back into the solid wall, trying to grasp a clear thought, waiting for his frantic heart to calm. When a hand touched his shoulder, he almost lashed out, but instead threw himself to the side, where he lost balance and dipped into the stinking mud. His eyes flew open, and he stared into the insecure, but unafraid eyes of a young woman.

“Are you alright?”, she asked, slowly crouching next to him.

“I think… I don´t…”, Rögnvald tried to find his footing, in every sense of the word. While he got back up to his feet and waited for her to do the same, he thought about what it was he really needed.

“Do you know the way out of the town? Towards the east?”

She was taken aback for a second, but nodded and bade him to follow. He focused on her back in front of him, her curly light hair, her shoulders, the sound of her steps. It helped him to get through the ocean of sounds and smells. When she turned around to face him, he saw that they had reached the wooden gate. There were a lot less people around and the narrow road led into the forest, towards a steep gorge. He looked back at her. “Thank you so much.”

She shrugged. “My brother gets overwhelmed by too many people, too. Hurts his ears and head, he says.”

Rögnvald smiled. “But I´m not your brother and yet, you helped me.”

The woman shrugged again. “Most people think he´s insane. I know he isn´t, but nobody believes me. I didn´t want anyone else to find you like that.”

Rögnvald nodded. He had heard of people like her brother, and knew they often were ostracized. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small figure, a raven that he had carved in the endless winter hours in his cave, one that had been too well made to leave behind. He gave it to the woman with a little bow. “I hope your kindness returns to you sevenfold.” She took the figure automatically and marveled at the detailed work. When she looked up to decline or thank for the gift, she didn´t know which was appropriate, there was no one there. With a shudder, she stuffed the raven into a fold of her dress and turned away from the dark and mysterious forest, in which the dark and mysterious stranger had disappeared without a trace.

Rögnvald ran, his feet barely making a sound as he darted down the road and into the depth of the fresh new foliage. When he reached the stream at the bottom of the ravine, he stopped on a narrow bank of gravel, letting the rushing of the water and the rustling of the leaves in the wind calm his frayed nerves. He didn´t think it would be like that. He hadn´t known he had forgotten how to be amongst his own kind. He didn´t think it possible and it frightened him, to know that he didn´t know how to be amongst other humans. Was that his lot? Did winning the forest mean losing his own kind? Did he have to pick? Was there no other way? Shaken and wounded, he unbuckled his pack and lay down at the edge of the river. He let the whispering water sing him to sleep, while longing and dreading other voices, voices out of human throats and hearts.

Rögnvald found that the heights of the mountains were still wet, in the middle of thawing, but passable, so he slowly made his way east, crossing the mountain plateaus as fast as he could and spending more time in the lush valleys between them. It seemed to him that every time he came down from a few days of wet and cold, sinking into swamps and resting under bushes whose leaves barely showed as little green buds, the green valleys had more gifts to give. The first strawberries were a welcomed surprise, as were goose eggs and wild garlic. Live became plentiful once more, the nights light and the days warm. Soon, he was swimming again in the warming water of the lakes, and resting on the sun-warmed rocks beneath. He watched goslings and fawns taking their first steps into a bright and green world, knowing nothing about cold and winter. Rögnvald moved slowly, without a real goal, without knowing where exactly he wanted to go, turning east towards the broad river valley. He soaked up the glory of summer, the memory of the harsh winter still fresh in his mind, although it seemed absurd to him how he could have been that cold and that lonely. It was hard to forget how he had felt in the town, how overwhelmed and uncomfortable he had been, and with the bustling life all around him, it wasn´t as lonely. But he was also aware that he didn´t want to spend another winter like this, didn´t want to risk it again, didn´t want to face the terrible game of life and death, the darkness, the cold, without another soul at his side. He considered taking a wolf pup as a friend, but when he had finally found a litter and watched them play, watched their mother and the whole pack coddle and care for them, he knew that it would be cruel and wrong, so he left empty handed. He went to a little waterfall he had found, and looked at his thoughtful reflection in the water. He searched his features for traces of his grandmother, wanted to feel like her wisdom did live in him, needing her close. Missing her so much that it felt like his heart was going to rip apart. “What should I do, grandmother? Where will I find someone like me? Where do I go from here? Or am I cursed, doomed to live alone forever? What am I supposed to do now?” He whispered all his fears and feelings and the thoughts that plagued him at night out into the open air, to be washed clean by the brook he was sitting at, and when his thoughts had finally cleared and he had spit out all fears that had poisoned his mind, he could hear Solveig speak, as if she was sitting right next to him. “Go north and west. North and west. North. And. West.” It was clear. It was simple and he arouse lighter and surer of himself than he had come.

Knowing that he was on the right path gave Rögnvald the peace of mind to enjoy the gifts of summer around him, to light a big fire and dance around it when midsummer came, even though he danced alone, he felt the invisible forces of the forest rejoice with him at the victory of the light. The bustling life around him kept him company and he continued to learn and listen to all the voices of the forest around him. He noticed the days getting shorter, but warmer still, and the world bloomed around him, and with every step north-west that he took, he nurtured his hopes, and a conviction grew in him that he would find what he was looking for. He wasn´t in a hurry. He had found his inner voice, and it was unwavering and infallible, and he followed it north and west in his own time.

The days passed on, he could gorge himself on blueberries and wild vegetables, caught fish and rabbits that were more than skin and bone and lean muscle, he collected the first wild cherries and carrots. Time passed on and every day was shorter than the last. The land grew steep again and Rögnvald crossed another mountain range, harsh and beautiful as life itself. When the land started to lower under his feet, he knew he was nearing the coast. A little nervous voice asked him what would happen when there was nothing but the sea in front of him, when nothing but icy waves awaited him north and west. He asked himself if he was supposed to take the long journey to Iceland, if that was where fate was leading him, and wondered how he could make that happen. But his conviction was strong. If Iceland was the place he was supposed to reach, to Iceland he would go.

When Rögnvald awoke, his breath in front of his face came out as a white cloud, mixing with the fog around him. The sun was a dim speck of light behind the veil, and his reindeer fur was glittering with droplets. Shuddering, he tried to relight the fire from the day before, his hands clammy and his teeth chattering. It had been some time since sleeping outside had made him feel that cold. The hot tea, made of dried mint that he had found the week prior, revived him though, and the sun soon dissolved the fog. He looked back up the mountains that he had crossed, and the steep flanks glittered suspiciously. Frost was creeping back towards the land, and he remembered how he left the high mountains for the first time the year before. “Autumn always sends his messengers ahead of time”, he murmured to himself, smiling at how confident he had been. The smile died though when he thought about the fact that he hadn´t started to prepare for winter now, either. He hadn´t planned on it. He had been convinced that he would have found wherever his feeling, his intuition would lead him, before that was necessary. It was too late to go to Iceland that year, by the time he would have found someone willing to take him onboard, autumn storms would have made the North Sea unpassable. With a deep breath he banned his anxious thoughts. There was a reason he had come here. There was something waiting for him, and he would be fine. Something. Or someone. He grabbed his walking stick, smooth from the many hours in his hands, and started to walk.

Rögnvald made his way downhill and towards the Sognefjord. He was sure footed and the rising temperatures as the morning turned into midday lifted his mood. He still had time. When the day reached its end, Rögnvald reached the edge of the forest and stepped onto a meadow, still littered with flowers. From here, he had a wide view of the fjord, the glittering water spreading out underneath him, and the mountains rising in the north. A huge ice cap covered the mountain range west to east, like a sign: You can´t go further north. This is the end of your journey. Peace settled over Rögnvald, a peace and contentedness that he couldn´t explain. He stayed for a moment longer, enjoying the view and watching a few sheep around him graze. Their bleating made him smile.

The rustling sound of steps behind him made him turn around. A man smiled at him; his face alit by the soft glow of the setting sun. Rögnvald noticed long blond hair, shining green eyes and a firm grip as they greeted each other. The strangers´ voice was deep and rich as he announced his name:

“Frodi”

“Rögnvald”

They smiled at each other and Rögnvald followed back to Frodis hut.

[courtfallen]

— closed starter for @stxrfclls // 𝔞 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔠𝔯𝔶! ( vyros & desmera — amidst a riot outside the local tavern, following the loss of magic, nearly midnight )

𝔳𝔶𝔯𝔬𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫, sweat streaming from his brow. ice does not cover his skin like armored verglas; instead, his focus results in shivers, an ice-pick headache, and a mist of condensation — his skin is cold to the touch, the air around him chilled, ringlets of his hair clump with frost, but melt almost immediately and stream down his leathers. despite his efforts, the most he can do is conjure glass-like ice that shatters at a touch. around him, ire and frustration begins to swarm, and he knows it brings bad tidings. not only have the people of the capital been trapped in a cage for days, they are now being stripped of their power, taunted by dragons hidden by heavy cloud cover, and ignored by their leaders. there will be trouble, infighting, restless and angry fae looking for someone to blame.

he has feared it since the start of this saga, and he is there to witness its unraveling — a riot, bursting forth from the town's most popular tavern.

he reaches for godfeller, the greatsword kept nestled between his illyrian wings, but then he sees the dawn court's second in command. her back is to him, but he feels relief to know someone capable is nearby, someone with a sound mind and a warrior's temperament. he pushes through the maddening crowd to her, the masses a labyrinth growing around them. an enraged fae is just a step ahead of him, raising a mallet high in the air, ready to strike her in the back of the head. vyros' reach is just enough to grab the foolish villager by the collar and throw him back to the ground, kingkiller leveled at his chin. ❝ try that again, and i'll cut every tooth out of your head with this blade. ❞ the man winces and recoils. he looks over his shoulder at the woman for whom he's crossed a sea of ire. ❝ i have a feeling if we don't stop this in its tracks, it'll spread like wildfire, and this entire city will be torn apart. any bright ideas? ❞

[missfangirll]

Fic writer interview

@goingsparebutwithprecision tagged me, tank yu <3

How many works do you have on AO3? 88. but 12 of them are videos

What's your total AO3 word count? 215,485

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Of Gods and Ghosts (Heaven's Official Blessing, collaboration with @stormy-seasons, 1074 kudos)

Guiding Light (Heaven's Official Blessing, 855 kudos)

My Brother's Keeper (Sandman, 720 kudos)

Reasons to stay (Until we meet again, 406 kudos)

Butterflies in Love with Flowers (Word of Honor, 328 kudos)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes. All the time, every time. I love comments.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I actually only have one angsty fic at all, Awakening (Guardian), which is Shen Wei waking up after he fell down the abyss.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? All my fics have happy endings, but you could argue that in comparison to canon most SongXiao fics are quite happy (i carry your heart with me, Saving Grace, A Kinder Sea) as is the Guardian fix-it (Ad Astra Per Aspera).

Do you write crossovers? No.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Not real hate, just someone "criticising" how I portrayed a character.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Ahem, I do, but it's rather tame I'd say.. The spiciest thing I've ever written is the second chapter of Thunder in our Hearts (The Lost Tomb).

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few actually, into Russian. Butterflies in Love with Flowers (Word of Honor), When You're Gone (Qi Ye) and A Port in the Storm (The Lost Tomb) all have translations.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, with @stormy-seasons <3 (and if you count The Saga Of The Noods with @tehfanglyfish :D)

What’s your all-time favorite ship? That is like choosing a favourite child... My all time favourite show is Guardian, so I'll go with Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan, but I love all my ships..

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Do not jinx it, please xD I have exactly one (1) WIP and I NEED to finish it or else I'll die of shame xD

What are your writing strengths? Crack treated seriously ^^ and fluff and banter

What are your writing weaknesses? smut. So Many Moving Parts

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? depends on how much of a grasp I have of that language

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ikemen Sengoku. then The Untamed ^^

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Mysterious Lotus Casebook :D

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? err.. again, favourite child??? let me at least pick three ^^ 1. The Big Puppy and His Feisty Cat Liu Sang (The Lost Tomb) 2. the world is brighter than the sun (The Lost Tomb) 3. silver clouds with grey linings (Guardian) And a special place in my heart has i carry your heart with me (The Untamed) <3

Tagging @stormy-seasons @tehfanglyfish @thursdayplaid @killerandhealerqueen and whoever else sees this and feels inclined, I am bad at remembering names ^^