#faerie-tempest

[aarcanechaoss]

Results are in!

I have to say I’m surprised and totally thought you’d all pick Noelle considering I have more followers for The Dragon Valkyrie than Bad Moon Rising haha

You all just want Chaos Gremlin Mimosa again I see you

Jack is a bad influence @jacks-little-jacky

Not surprised about this result tho haha LETS GOOOOOO

I can already picture the beautiful chaos to come when Julius sends Ava to watch the Elves at the Golden Dawn and Mimosa just pops in like “Can we fight them please. I just wanna try out my new moves is all!”

[faerietempest]

Are you not uploading your black history challenge to YouTube anymore?

I really appreciate this question because I’ve been meaning to talk about it.

After I moved in April, a lot of things happened and life really got in the way of me being able to record new videos. It is my greatest wish/hope/plan to upload YouTube videos again in 2023! I’m really trying to make it happen again.

Also, I see all the notifications of new subscribers and I cannot thank y’all enough for continuing to be interested in my channel. See you soon! 🤎

[milfjagger]

posting this on its own as well :) template and idea from @trollmaiden and full guide/sources under cut

"La Belle Dame sans Merci” by Henry Meynell Rheam

by Ayami Kojima 

“The Fairy Lovers” by Theodor Richard Edward von Holst 

Gnomes from the novel The Little Grey Men, written and illustrated by “BB” (Denys Watkins-Pitchford)

Nyform Norwegian troll

“Little Red Mischief” by Amy Brown

Faery from “The Hallow” dir. Corin Hardy, SFX by John Nolan

Ariel from Shakespeare’s The Tempest, illustrated by Jane Ray

The Beast from Over The Garden Wall, created by Patrick McHale

“Morgan Le Fay” by Clive Hicks-Jenkins

Unicorn foal sculpture by SovaeArt https://www.deviantart.com/indigo-ocean/gallery

Faery from Good Faeries, Bad Faeries by Brian Froud

“Dusk” by Stephanie Pui-Mun Law

Honeythorn Gump from “Legend” dir. Ridley Scott

Oona from “Legend” dir. Ridley Scott

Flora, Fauna and Merryweather from “Sleeping Beauty”, art direction by Eyvind Earle

Bilbo Baggins from a Dutch edition of JRR Tolkein’s The Hobbit, illustrated by Kees Kelfkens(?)

Selkie depicted on a Faroese stamp

Chortlebones from Bella Sara, illustrated by Lynn Hogan

Huldra from the game “Year Walk” 

The Sprite from Fantasia 2000, segment directed by Paul and Gaëtan Brizzi

and 23 Costume designs for Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Robert Courtneidge

As above

Tinker Bell from Peter Pan (2003) dir. PJ Hogan

Hoggle from Labyrinth, designed by Brian Froud and created by Jim Henson’s Creature Shop

Mr Tumnus from The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe dir. Andrew Adamson

Tom Bombadil from JRR Tolkein’s The Lord of the Rings, illustrated by Tim Hildebrandt

The Green Man (source unclear)

Illustration for Terry Pratchett’s The Wee Free Men by Robyn Haley

Truffle from Adventure Quest

 Littlest Pet Shop fairy

Woodland Furby made by me :) Please do not call him cursed

The Psammead from the BBC’s TV adaptation of E Nesbitt's Five Children and It, dir. Marilyn Fox

Thranduil, King of the Wood Elves from The Hobbit, dir. Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass

Nøkken by John Bauer

Gizmo from Gremlins dir. Joe Dante, creature design by Chris Walas

Gollum from JRR Tolkein’s The Hobbit, illustrated by Tove Jansson

Soot Sprite from Spirited Away dir. Hayao Miyazaki

Gonk

“The Junk Lady” from Labyrinth; concept art by Brian Froud

Domovoi by Vladimir Chernickov

Falkor from The Neverending Story dir. Wolfgang Petersen, creature design by Patrick Woodroffe

Cherry Fairy from Webkinz

Titania from Vertigo Comics, illustrated by Matt Dixon

Wind Drifter, My Little Pony G1

[zal-cryptid]

Does a happy ending for these toys require that they turn back into humans?

Let's ask the Fortune Teller. She's a toyfolk from the Funlands region of Toyland.

"Names are the oldest kind of magic, and they hold tremendous power in the faerie realm. I shall print out nine cards, each tied to the names of someone on this island. They will reveal what futures they have in store.

…I think this is the Shining Torch. This old card has been battered and beaten. Whatever meaning it once had has been lost. But as a light, perhaps it will guide others out of darkness.

The Free Man. One who is neither slave or serf. A fool no longer scared of leaving his box?

The Dolorous. Pain and sorrow. I know it hurts, but we must learn to move forward.

The Hero(ine) of God. God is their strength. The messenger, harbinger, annunciator. It delivers the Good News. It may seem weak, but it holds an unconventional strength.

The Humbled. One who is small. One who has been knocked down a peg and learned a lesson. It can also mean “young” - perhaps it pertains to a certain hatchling?

The Fair One. Just like the Fair Folk, it is morally dubious. But they do believe one good turn deserves another. Is it villainous to follow one's heart?

The Gazelle. A gracious creature. A prey animal. One who is familiar with fear and death. It is an animal of goodwill and grace. Hm, I sense their transformation is not quite done.

The Honey. Joy, sweetness, pleasure, to have all their needs taken care of. Wasn't this what they always wanted?

The Sea. Bitter and tumultuous. A tempest to be calmed. It seems that an extra card was erroneously printed alongside it - The Victory card. A triumph? A defeat of an enemy? A winning of a game? But for whom?"

[starsreminisce]

Elain's heart raced as she watched Lucien enter the River House, his figure clad in a jacket strikingly similar to the one she had carefully hidden away. Panic surged through her as their eyes met, but she managed to offer him a cautious nod before he moved on to join Rhys and Feyre.

Feeling overwhelmed by the sight of Lucien in the familiar jacket, Elain quickly excused herself, murmuring something about needing a moment alone. With hurried steps, she retreated to her room, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and memories.

Alone in her room, Elain hurriedly retrieved the box from the back of her closet, relief flooding her when she found the original jacket still neatly folded inside. Clutching it briefly to her chest, she carefully placed it back in its hiding spot.

Descending the stairs, she spotted the new jacket discarded on a nearby chair. Acting on impulse, she snatched it up, holding it close. But as she moved to return it to its place, she realized her scent now lingered on the fabric, sending a wave of panic through her. Hurriedly, she returned to her room, stuffing the jacket into the same box as the first one.

As Elain was about to descend the stairs, she heard Lucien's voice from the main room.

"Where's my jacket?" he inquired, his tone laced with a hint of frustration.

Feyre's voice carried a hint of amusement. "Maybe a faerie stole it."

"Very funny, Feyre," Lucien replied, frustration evident in his tone.

"It's not like you need it," Feyre remarked casually. "You're warm as it is anyway."

Elain gritted her teeth, realizing with a sinking feeling that Feyre's words hinted at a closeness she hadn't anticipated.

"If you see it," Lucien sighed, "please let me know."

"With that magical eye, you really do like losing stuff," Feyre teased.

After Feyre's teasing remark, Elain felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment wash over her. She stood frozen at the top of the stairs, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. The weight of her secret seemed almost suffocating as she battled with the turmoil of her emotions.

Unable to face Lucien and Feyre any longer, she quietly retreated back to her room, seeking solace in the familiarity of her own space. With trembling hands, she reached for the box containing her hidden treasures, seeking some semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of her thoughts.

As her fingers traced over the various items within the box, each one serving as a tangible reminder of her clandestine actions, Elain couldn't help but feel a profound sense of regret. The weight of her secret pressed heavily upon her heart, stirring up a tempest of conflicting emotions within her. She longed for the courage to confront her feelings and lay bare the truth, yet fear held her back, its grip tightening with every passing moment.

"Maybe I should just talk to him," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of her thoughts. With a heavy sigh, she closed the lid of the box, momentarily setting aside the burden of her hidden feelings.

Unbeknownst to her, just beyond her window, the golden rays of daylight cast a warm glow upon Lucien as he stood with a slight smile gracing his lips. His gaze lingered on her silhouette, framed against the soft light filtering through the curtains. Despite the complexity of their situation, a quiet determination shone in his eyes.

"When she's ready," he murmured to himself, the words carrying a sense of patience and understanding. "So will I."

In the tranquility of the day, a delicate balance hung in the air, with untold emotions swirling between them, waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged.

[onehundredandeleventropicalfish]

getting emotional about the last issue of sandman again (cw for major comic spoilers, discussion of suicidal thoughts)

because like. so we learn pretty early on what dream's deal with shakespeare was, allowing him better access to his creative potential in return for two plays, and we know this because we get midsummer night's dream, which was commissioned by dream for the actual titania as a parting gift before the faeries left earth forever

but we don't learn the second play until right at the end, after dream is dead, after the funeral, after sunday mourning and exiles, both of which make really beautiful endings to the story in their own right

the second play is the tempest. and there's a lot of the play that neil gaiman quotes in this issue, but i'll focus on the specific two that shakespeare reads aloud

the first is our obvious one - prospero's address at his daughter's wedding.

Be cheerful, sir. Our revels now are ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air. And like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve, and like this insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

it's a beautiful passage, and exactly what to put at the end of this story - prospero is reminding everyone that stories are just stories, they aren't real and can't hurt anyone, but also they are the one thing that lives forever. humans are shaped and formed by our dreams, by our stories, we come from them, and in the end, we return to them.

now, prospero is the character we focus on in this issue. because there's a three-way parallel here between dream and prospero and shakespeare himself.

dream and shakespeare have both lost their sons, were both irreparably changed by that. both regret decisions they've made in their lives, and wish to leave the path they've found for themselves, but don't feel they can - their responsibilities are too great, they have no choice but to be what they were born to be. both wonder what might have happened in a world where things were different, but they know that could never have been

and prospero is the balm to that. prospero has made mistakes in his life, he's in several ways the antagonist of this story, but at the end, he gets to put it all aside. his daughter lives, and is happy. he gives up his magic - the source of his power, but also his suffering - and abandons his role, leaves the island he'd been ruling for decades. and this is his happy ending.

when shakespeare asks dream why this play, why he wanted that ending, instead of some great tragedy or drama, something more fit for a king, dream responds "because i will never leave my island."

and we see throughout the issue that that was personal to shakespeare too, it was a wish fullfilment for both of them.

but then we get to the epilogue, the second quote i'm focusing on. because shakespeare doesn't know how to end the play, until he has that conversation with dream.

this is the tempest's epilogue, in full:

Now my charms are all o'erthrown/And what strength I have’s mine own/Which is most faint. Now, ’tis true/I must be here confined by you/Or sent to Naples. Let me not/Since I have my dukedom got/And pardoned the deceiver, dwell/In this bare island by your spell/But release me from my bands/With the help of your good hands.

Gentle breath of yours my sails/Must fill, or else my project fails/Which was to please. Now I want/Spirits to enforce, art to enchant/And my ending is despair/Unless I be relieved by prayer/Which pierces so that it assaults/Mercy itself and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardoned be/Let your indulgence set me free.

like most shakespeare epilogues, it's a direct address to the audience, talking about the play. prospero is asking forgiveness from the audience for all he did wrong, but then reminding them that he's only human, don't we all want to be forgiven? and after all, all of this was just a story. he only wanted to create something for you. so applaud the ending, tell him it was worth it, and only with your permission can he finish the story, and finally leave.

and that's the thing, about dream's particular brand of suicidal thoughts. being dream of the endless has been weighing on him for centuries, if not millenia, he longs for an escape, but he knows he can't. when they see it's breaking him his siblings try and convince him to leave, like destruction did, but it's not in him to abandon the dreaming like that.

and that amount of responsibility, of staying alive because you owe it to other people - it's a relief, then, when a battle comes along that's too great for you to face, but there's also a lot of guilt in it. because he gave up. and he knows he did. letting the kindly ones win was the most selfish decision he's ever made

and you might say, well, he's dead, he doesn't have to face it, but that's not wholly true. because all three of the last issues deal with some version of dream after death.

there's the dream of him hob has in sunday mourning, which isn't the true dream, he's dead, except of course it is dream, because he was only ever made of dreams anyway, so does it really matter whether it's real or not?

in exiles the protagonist talks to both morpheus and daniel in the desert, and for dream this was two very different time periods, but to the man crossing the desert, they happened simultaneously, so if time can be warped like that in dreams, who's to say that the ripples of morpheus won't continue long into the future?

and then we have the tempest. dream has appeared after death as a dream, as a mirage, and finally, in perhaps his truest form, as a story.

when dream said he will never leave his island, shakespeare reminds him that all men can change. and this is the fatal flaw of dream - he doesn't see himself as a man, as a person, as anything but the entity which must fulfill his function. he tells shakespeare that men have stories, men change - he does not

and when we end this entire 75 issue run with the epilogue from the tempest, dream is prospero. even after death he's still reckoning with the guilt of making that decision. even now, he won't allow himself that freedom.

and that's the reminder, that all of this was just a story - dream's story. the reader is a character in sandman, all of this was created for us. did he manage to create something beautiful enough, despite the pain? can he be forgiven for the decisions he made along the way? if eventually he gave up, does that make all the time he fought so hard for meaningless?

and he can't be free of the story until we answer that all important question - was it worth it?

to which the answer can only be of course it was.

[eslanes]

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴ ᴄᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀʟʟᴇɴɢᴇ

(thanks @faerie-tempest)

Okay I went a bit wild and did the whole challenge for Devon's family. This was really fun and I highly encourage doing this one!

(See below the cut for who's-who!)

Devon Grace (the influencer + cousin who's getting married) - The reality star, social media influencer and adult entertainer we all know and love! She's also getting married to her new boo, unbeknownst to him.

Stavros Pantazis (the new bae) - Literally new new, they met less than a sim-week ago and are now expecting a little terror of their own. No one will bother remembering his name and Grandma keeps calling him "Vlad".

Briar Rose Grace (the quiet judgmental youngin') - Devon's daughter. What can i say, she's a saucy little shit lol.

Brianna Grace (the competitive sibling) - Devon's younger sister and a bit of a brat in her own right.

Mary-Jacqueline Grace (the instigator) - Devon and Brianna's mother. She's a chainsmoking, hard-drinking hot mess of a broad. She's been known to get into fist-fights with grown men (and win, of course).

Catherine Grace-De la Roca (the cool aunt) - Mary-Jacqueline's twin sister and the only reason Devon and Brianna turned out half-sensible. Art teacher and travel enthusiast.

Rodrigo De la Roca (the world's most interesting uncle) - Catherine's husband and walking encyclopedia of weird and random knowledge. Has some kind of bizarre story for every occasion. Don't ask him to tell the thumb story.

Gabi De la Roca (the holier-than-thou student) - Teenage terror with brains to burn. She's banking on a full scholarship to Britechester to get away from her unhinged family.

Enid Grace (the family recipe gatekeeper) - The matriarch of the Grace family. Rules the kitchen with an iron fist. Whatever you do, don't ask for her rhubarb pie recipe.

Tony Grace (the overly-supportive grandparent) - Enid's husband and family patriarch. Wanna join the circus? Drop out of college? Kill someone? Grandpa's got your back (and probably the shovel).

Ronnie Grace (the bitcoin uncle) - Tech nerd and the lamest guy you will ever meet. Somehow his family hasn't left him for his constant rants about blockchains. May or may not have lost half his savings from investing in Llamacoin. Mary-Jacqueline and Catherine's younger brother.

Keisha Grace (the nosy relative) - Somehow still married to Ronnie (but doesn't know about the Llamacoin yet). Actually loves family gatherings because she gets all the dirt to gossip about with her friends later.

Niko Grace (the peacemaker) - Ronnie's son from his first marriage, at 31 he's still "finding himself" (ie: unemployed musician living in his parents' basement). You can probably find him outside of a family gathering trying to push weed on his younger cousins.

Grayson Grace (the golden child) - It's really not hard to be the golden boy when your older brother sells weed to children.

Tabitha Loveless (the passive-aggressive auntie) - A widower, Tony's older sister and Devon's great-aunt. Tabitha may or may not have flown to the gathering on her broom.

Karen Loveless (the live-laugh-love mom) - Tabitha's daughter. Cheerful to a fault, but please don't ruffle her couch cushions or you will face the wrath of God. Has been in a 17-year old standoff with Aunt Enid over that goddamn pie recipe.

Eddie and Jason Loveless (the d.i.n.k.w.a.d's) - Karen's son and son-in-law. They just got back from a cruise and can't wait to tell you all about it. They're really living their double-income-no-kids-with-a-dog life to the fullest. They considered leaving because their precious pooch, Tangerine, was not given her own place setting.

Kurt Loveless and Monica Song (the anxious new parents) - Eddie's twin brother and his fiancée. Just welcomed a bouncing baby boy, Chevron Fritz Loveless. Baby Chevron is so special that he spends 18.5 of 24 hours a day screaming his sweet little head off. If it weren't for his mother Karen, Eddie is convinced he would kill his twin brother and take over his life. Monica showed up to the reunion with baby shit on her shirt and is unfazed.

Kelly Loveless-Strong (the wino soccer mom) - Tabitha's other daughter and Karen's younger sister. She's convinced her precious boy is going to make it to the World Cup (that is if he can get tf off of Twitch). Fun fact: there's definitely wine in that coffee cup. Is 100% likely to get into a table-dancing contest with cousin Mary-Jaqueline later.

Colby Strong (the 'other' influencer) - The family still doesn't undertand how Colby got famous for playing videogames but they are all so proud anyhow, even if he is pissing away his opportunity at being a world-class athlete. Most definitely out back smoking weed with cousin Niko.

[midwestbramble]

Book Reviews and Recommendations

This will be a running list of books I’ve reviewed and which ones I recommend according to topic. This way when people ask I have an easy place to point them.

Right now I’m posting one review a week of a book that’s already on my shelf. Eventually all the books I’ve recommended will have a review linked as well; for now if you have questions about one feel free to ask. This post will continue to be updated.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Content:

Book Reviews

Book Recommendations

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Book Reviews

America Bewitched

American Brujeria

Aradia

Astral Dynamics

Backwoods Witchcraft

Besom, Stang, and Sword (coming soon)

Mastering Witchcraft

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Book Recommendations

Ancestor Work:

Honoring Your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise

Animal Spirits:

Fang and Fur, Blood and Bone by Lupa

Skin Spirits by Lupa

Astrology:

The Essential Guide to Practical Astrology by April Elliott Kent

Beginners:

Natural Magic by Doreen Valiente

Psychic Witch by Mat Auryn

Weave the Liminal by Laura Tempest Zakroff

The Witch’s Path by Thorn Mooney

Crafts:

The Green Witch’s Grimoire by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Potions, Elixirs, and Brews by Anaïs Alexandre

Cultural Literacy in Modern Witchcraft:

Aradia by Charles Godfrey Leland

Doreen Valiente: Witch by Philip Heselton

Power of the Witch by Laurie Cabot

The Rebirth of Witchcraft by Doreen Valiente

Spiral Dance by Starhawk

Transcendental Magic by Éliphas Lévi

Death Work:

Morbid Magic by Tomás Prower

Druidry:

The Book of Celtic Magic by Kristoffer Hughes

Elements:

The Four Elements of the Wise by Ivo Dominguez Jr.

The Little Work by Durgadas Allon Duriel

Faeries:

Fairies: A Guide to the Celtic Fair Folk by Morgan Daimler

Feri (not to be confused with faeries):

Betwixt and Between by Storm Faerywolf

Forbidden Mysteries of Faery Witchcraft by Storm Faerywolf

Folklore:

Black Dog Folklore by Mark Norman

The Devils Plantation by Nigel Pearson

Folk Magic:

American Brujeria by J. Allen Cross

Backwoods Witchcraft by Jake Richards

Doctoring the Devil by Jake Richards

Ozark Folk Magic by Brandon Weston

Ozark Mountain Spell Book by Brandon Weston

The Powwow Grimoire by Robert Phoenix

Trolldom by Johannes Björn Gårdbäck

Working Conjure by Hoodoo Sen Moise

Green Witchcraft:

The Green Witch’s Garden by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Plants of the Devil by Corrine Boyer

The Poison Path Herbal by Coby Michael

Under the Bramble Arch by Corrine Boyer

Wild Witchcraft by Rebecca Beyer

Wortcunning by Nigel Pearson

Hearth Witchcraft:

The Hearth Witch’s Compendium by Anna Franklin

The House Witch by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Hedge Riding/Spirit Flight:

Astral Dynamics by Robert Bruce

A Broom at Midnight by Roger J. Horne

History:

America Bewitched by Owen Davies

Demons and Spirits of the Land by Claude Lecouteux

Harry Potter and History by Nancy Reagin <- unaffiliated with JK Rowling

A History of Magic and Witchcraft by Frances Timbers

The Return of the Dead by Claude Lecouteux

The Tradition of Household Spirits by Claude Lecouteux

The Triumph of the Moon by Ronald Hutton

The Witch by Ronald Hutton

Witches, Werewolves, and Fairies by Claude Lecouteux

Holidays:

The Hearth Witch’s Year by Anna Franklin

Samhain by Diana Rajchel

Yule by Susan Pesznecker

Protection:

By Rust of Nail and Prick of Thorn by Althaea Sebastiani

Hex Twisting by Diana Rajchel

The Reclaiming Tradition:

The Spiral Dance by Starhawk

Scientific Studies on Magic:

Real Magic by Dean Radin, PhD

Spirit Work:

Honoring Your Ancestors by Mallorie Vaudoise

A Witch’s Guide to the Paranormal by J. Allen Cross

Traditional Witchcraft:

Besom, Stang, and Sword by Christopher Orapello and Tara-Love Maguire

The Black Toad by Gemma Gary

A Broom at Midnight by Roger J. Horne

The Crooked Path by Kelden <- great for beginners

The Devils Dozen by Gemma Gary

Folkloric American Witchcraft and the Multicultural Experience by Via Hedera

New World Witchery by Corey Hutcheson

Plants of the Devil by Corrine Boyer

The Poison Path Herbal by Coby Michael

Southern Cunning by Aaron Oberon

Traditional Witchcraft by Gemma Gary

Treading the Mill by Nigel G Pearson

Tubelos Green Fire by Shani Oates

Under the Bramble Arch by Corrine Boyer

Wild Witchcraft by Rebecca Beyer

The Witch Compass by Ian Chambers

The Witches’ Devil by Roger J Horne

The Witches’ Sabbath by Kelden

Wortcunning by Nigel Pearson

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[alterdaes]

"I'm gonna start doing my reading wrap-ups on the last day of the month!" I said on April 30th, and then proceeded to forget to do this last night 😂 Anyways, May was a pretty good reading month for me! I read five books, and DNF'd one. I participated in withcindy's 2024 Asian Readathon challenge over on Storygraph, and was able to cover all five of the prompts with the books I finished!

Anyways, thoughts below the cut

Iron Widow - 4/5. Originally I gave it a 3.75 but after sitting with it for a while I decided I'll probably re-read it at some point in the future, so it deserves at least a 4. Loved the MC Zetian, and really fascinated by the world Xiran is built there. That ending certainly left me wanting more. I did find the middle of the book to be a bit slow, and I'm not 100% sold on the M/M portion of the polycule yet. I'd like to be, but I'm not. Hoping the next book will give all three of them more moments together

Dungeon Meshi Volume 8 - 5/5. I'm very slowly picking my way through this. I'm not really in a rush since the anime's going to be wrapping up its first season soon and I'm keenly aware that the manga will be all I have for a while after that lol anyways, that said, I loved this volume. The Canaries are great, and the changeling mushroom plotline was probably one of my favorites so far.

The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches - 4.25/5. I've been wanting a lighthearted contemporary romance for a while, and this one hit just right! The characters were loveable, the plot was fast-paced but didn't sacrifice character development, time was spent to flesh out this world that was just slightly alternate of our own, and there was even a twist I didn't see coming. All in all, a very enjoyable read that I'd definitely pick up again.

The Hundred Years' War on Palestine - 5/5. All I can say is a recommend checking out this book. Rashid Khalidi is a Palestinian historian and covers this topic extremely thoroughly in this book, in a way that I found easy to digest. Considering my track record with paying attention to history textbooks, that's saying something. I definitely believe its important to understand the full historical context behind this conflict, including and especially the United States involvement in it, as it has put so much of the current administration's current actions into a horrifying perspective.

The Moon Represents My Heart - DNF'd. I have a confession - I like time-travel stories in theory, but I have yet to read a book that features it that I like. I'd also like to find a literary book I like, and a book about a time traveling family seemed like the perfect character-focused book. Sadly this fell short for me in that department as well. I just could not connect to any of the characters, and I found myself pulling up the table of contents often to see how much more I had to go. Finally at 33% of the way through I decided to stop torturing myself. Maybe one day I'll return to this but...not any time soon.

An Artificial Night - 5/5. well I finished my re-read of this like I'd hoped, but it took the entire damn month with every thing else I was reading! 😆 It remains one of my favorite Toby Daye books. The second half of the book, and the repercussions of Toby being successful in her mission, is what stood out to my most this time around. That could just be because I adore how Seanan tied in so many aspects of faerie lore into this; I think her take on the Ballad of Tam Lin was especially genius. Anyways, Toby is still my favorite failgirl, I still adore her and Tybalt together, Conner still bothers the hell out of me, and the Luidaeg remains my favorite side character in the series. Also, I wish we got to see more of Acacia in the series.

Right now I'm reading A Tempest of Tea by Hafsah Faizal because my hold came in at the library and I'd been really looking forward to this one. I've also said before on my main that I've got quite a few queer books lined up for this month, and I do hope to get through the next Toby book, Late Eclipses, this month as well.

[mrslittletall]

@faeriethistle replied to your post “@vodkafolie replied to your post “I miss my...”:

sorry little! i haven't really seen any of your oc stuff on here and i haven't been on discord much either to see it in the server but you're welcome to share stuff with me anytime if you like :)

​Thank you, Faerie. It is no surprise, because I haven't posted much about it. I don't have that many OCs. Lately I would say I have four main OCs. My Chosen Undead Tempest. My Original OCs Lum and Kuro (they were once from WoW but I scraped the serial numbers off to make them original OCs in a modern setting) And my Warrior of Light Rispale (from FF14) I want to talk more about them, about their stories, personality, motivation, AUs and stuff... but I just don't know how to start. I am trying with OC questions but even if people send them in and I answer, it doesn't really get them to ask more questions outside of ask memes, you know? It is all just so complicated... and I miss coming up with headcanons for my blorbos. But Ornstein, Laurence and PK kinda feel finished! And Elden Ring just didn't hit the same mark as those games so I don't really know who to obsess over...

[princesssarisa]

Do you also know the different names meanings of The Little Mermaid?

I don't know her name in every adaptation, but here goes:

Rusalka (the opera Rusalka): "Water nymph." (It's not actually a proper name – English synopses of the opera tend to call her "Rusalka" as if it's her name, but really she's "the rusalka.")

Naida (the Let's Pretend radio adaptation): "Water nymph."

Mako (the 1970 anime series Mahō no Mako-chan): "Sincerity."

Marina (the 1975 anime film, and the 1991 anime series Adventures of the Little Mermaid): "Of the sea."

Pearl (the Faerie Tale Theatre version): "Pearl," of course.

Mija (Happily Ever After: Fairy Tales for Every Child): "Beautiful girl." (This is its Korean meaning, which fits with the adaptation's Asian setting, though it has other meanings in other languages.)

Ariel (the Disney version): "Lion of God."

Undine (the 2013 Sechs auf einen Streich adaptation): "Wave."

Elizabeth (the 2018 indie film): "My God is an oath."

It's interesting that the most famous name for this heroine, her Disney name of "Ariel," is one of the few that doesn't have a sea- or water-related meaning. I'm sure the Disney creative team was thinking of Shakespeare's Ariel from The Tempest, since that Ariel is also a sprightly, singing, fantastical being, who lives in close proximity to the sea on an island, and since his chief desire is also for freedom, which he also gains in the end.

The fact that Disney's Ariel doesn't have a sea-related name might also reinforce the fact that ultimately, she doesn't belong in the sea – she belongs on land, which her father needs to learn to accept. Whereas in other versions of the tale, the mermaid sadly learns to accept that even in human shape, she can never belong to the human world, so a sea-related name is more fitting.

[aarcanechaoss]

I’ve made moodboards for Faerie of the Storms and Adrift - idk if anything will get written past oneshots etc BUT they’re such fun ideas

So I hope you like them!

Avalyn Tempest Melusine Maris

[faerietempest]

hi! just wanted u to know that i really appreciate ur black history challenge. i'm a black simmer who enjoys historical challenges, but it'd always be so difficult to engage bc they were so obviously white-focused. so i just really appreciate you 💖💖

This is so sweet, 🥹🥰 thank you anon

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Tempests and Urges

Chapter III of my gift for @stickyelectrons! I'm so very sorry for the delay (it was a surprisingly busy winter for me!) but I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

Fic summary and current chapters here

XXX

III.

Lucien had never been to the Continent. Growing up, his tutors had dutifully lectured him about the intricate and long—and dreadfully boring—histories of the Faerie kingdoms across the sea, and how foreign their lands were from those in Prythian. Lucien remembered absolutely none of it. He was the youngest son of a High Lord, with no hope of ever needing to retain this information—why did he need to know of the economic policies of Rask, or whether Vallahan was experiencing a lower crop haul than average? No, he would be much better off learning all there was to know about the six other Courts that comprised his home land, to make allies and friends with the fae who might actually benefit him later on.

He mentally cursed himself for the hundredth time just that morning and tried to remember as much information from his studies of this strange Fae land as possible. Any information would be a boon at this point. All he and Elain has tried to do was enter the great walled city of Montesere’s capital early in the morning, and been immediately stopped by the city’s guards.

“Good morning,” Elain had murmured demurely to the faes holding swords longer than her torso.

The sharp clang of the guard’s metal armor straightening met their greeting. “What business do two Prythians have in Montesere?” a guard asked in a guttural accent. Her dark sharp eyes were narrowed with distrust, her frowning lips framed with deep grooves of disgust.

Elain stared wide eyed. “Apologies,” Lucien quickly replied. “We’re here to visit the sights of Montesere.”

“Yet you come from the east, from the mountains. Very little to look at over there.”

Damn this perceptive female. Lucien put on his most charming smile. “We went hiking in the mountains. We both love nature and walking, and wanted to experience the grandeur of Montesere’s famed peaks.”

The guard cast a disbelieving look over Elain, over her physique that suggested she’d never walked that much in her life. “And both of you went on a days long hiking trip?”

Alright, if niceties wouldn’t work… “Well, I suppose I got to view more than Montesere’s natural beauty, you understand,” Lucien said conspiratorially to the guard, lowering his voice and grinning slightly. Behind him, Elain gasped in outrage.

Miraculously, the guard chuckled. “Yes, a very lucky male you are.” She stepped aside. “Tide’s blessings. Enjoy the city.”

“How dare you!” Elain exclaimed as soon as they were far enough past the city’s walls. “Implying that we—that I—!”

“What would you have me do, Elain?” Lucien asked, annoyed. “From the moment you said ��good morning’ and not ‘tide’s blessings’ or whatever they say here, they marked us as outsiders. There aren’t too many innocent visitors from Prythian at the moment, and I had to make us appear as non-threatening as possible. It wouldn’t surprise me if there’s someone following our every move even now.” He unclenched his jaw. They needed to keep a low profile, and they’d already spectacularly failed.

Elain looked around wildly, like she might spot some cloaked figure skulking menacingly in the shadows. “Surely they have enough visitors here that we wouldn’t raise any alarm.”

“Any normal visitors to Montesere would arrive by ship. We clearly aren’t merchants or farmers, so our method of entry was already a bit unusual.”

“Well,” Elain asked slowly, “what else do I need to know about Montesere?”

A great question. Lucien spent the next several hours wracking his brain to recall anything about the local customs of this far off fae kingdom. They made their way slowly around the bustling commercial districts in the city, generally making their way towards the docks. He remembered hearing from Eris, during some stuffy meeting in his youth, that Monteserens haggled and bartered for everything, which only came to mind when Elain had purchased a small pastry for breakfast and handed over the five coins without complaint. The baker’s eyes had bulged with disbelief, then he yelled something in a foreign language to someone at another stall, who openly laughed at him and Elain.

It was no use. Lucien decided that watching people would be easier than trying to recall something Armand, his oldest tutor, had tried teaching him over 300 years ago. Montesere, being surrounded by the sea on two sides, owed much of their livelihood and wealth to the ocean, and thus, paid respectable homage to their bountiful yet cruel god everywhere. Small bowls of seawater were placed inside the entrance of every building they ventured into, for people to dip their fingers in and continuously receive the sea’s blessings, he assumed, observing a gaggle of females perform the practice when he and Elain entered a tailor’s shop. Elain was about to begin wondering the store when Lucien surreptitiously guided her back to the bowl to perform the ritual. 

She adapted easily though, gracefully dabbing the salty water on her wrists then floated amongst the racks, selecting a modest wool cloak and haggling the price down ten silvers with a satisfied smile. There was no future for Elain as a spy—she was far too kind and free with her emotions for that line of work—but as an emissary, charming potential allies and adapting to new situations…Lucien could see a glimmer of potential.

“It’s been almost an entire hour since someone openly laughed at us or mocked us,” Elain remarked drolly as they exited the shop and took a random turn down another busy street, stuffing her new cloak in her bag. “A rousing success.”

Lucien gave a half grin. “At this rate, we’ll be proper Monteserens in no time.”

Elain looked around. “Besides booking passage on a ship, what else do we need to do?”

“Find accommodation for the night, but there should be enough guest houses around town that it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Her eyes gleamed and she sent him a sideways grin. “Since we most likely won’t be back to Montesere for some time after this, want to explore and see if we can avoid being the laughingstock of the city?”

If Lucien felt like a fish out of water—damn these seafaring Fae for making him think in puns—then at least Elain had grown a pair of gills and was flourishing. Ever since she told him off after entering the city, her eyes were wide and her mouth open in near permanent wonder and awe. Lucien couldn’t blame her. The city was built onto the hills and cliffs overlooking the impressive sea and docks, with the wealthiest inhabitants living so far up the hill as to be in the clouds. 

Most fae in Montesere were wealthy, and the city shoved its opulence in its visitor’s faces. The roads were paved with hand-painted bricks of various shades of blue, so that the streets themselves resembled flowing rivers and streams that led to intricate marble fountains in different central squares. One of these squares, adorned with an enchanted marble statue of a dolphin that moved and bobbed around its pedestal on its own, held a host of fine jewelry artisans. Elain watched one Lesser fae, her gray fingers nimble and quick as she worked the fragilest of materials—opals, obsidian, sea shells—into necklaces and dangling earrings. Elain’s fingers grazed a small pearl ring, longing clear on her face, before she turned around to watch the dancing dolphin. 

Lucien picked up the ring. It wasn’t the largest pearl ring, and even had a few imperfections: it was dull, and oddly shaped. Its price tag was more modest as a result, and he certainly had enough savings stashed away in Prythian to purchase it, should he wish to.

He set the ring down. No use thinking about buying an extravagant gift for a female who said she wanted nothing to do with him after their journey, as much as his inner beast begged him to throw away all the coin Rhys had given them away on a trinket that would likely be lost should he purchase it.

They continued exploring the city and what it had to offer. The architecture was unlike anything he’d ever seen in Prythian. Buildings of all shapes and sizes made out of a sand colored stone with red tiled roofs surrounded them as they walked the city’s narrow and windy blue streets, with perfectly manicured trees and hedges lining the boulevards. High Fae in fashionable and daring outfits strolled by. A few wore ensembles that wouldn’t be out of place in Summer or Dawn, but most wore so little clothing that even Helion would be shocked. Females in scraps of nets and gauze leisurely walked the streets with equally immodest and barely clothed partners, their hair in extravagant updos and paper-thin parasols resting on their shoulders.

“Stop staring!” Elain hissed as Lucien’s eye darted to and away from the swaying hips of a curvaceous High Fae woman covered in a blue chiffon dress that was nearly see-through and resembled the ocean’s waves, her heeled boots clacking against the brick.

“Like you weren’t ogling that shirtless male that just walked by.”

“I wasn’t ogling,” Elain retorted. “I was merely…observing the vastly different fashions of the Continent.”

Lucien shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s alright to look. Although,” he lowered his voice and leaned into her, noting that she imperceptibly leaned towards him, “I think that blue dress would look so lovely on you.” Her mouth formed a little ‘O,’ and Lucien walked down the street with a smile on his face.

The smell of the sea was vibrant here, but especially so the nearer they got to the docks. Lucien had little sea experience, as Autumn only had a few rocky and briny shores along its eastern coast, and he had never been to a dockyard, much less the largest in a seafaring nation. The smell of salt and fish was strong, nearly overwhelming, but tempered with enough richness and freshness that prevented him from burying his head in the crook of his arm. 

Faes of all kind—High and Lesser—rushed around the crowded docks, shouting orders, carrying cargo, and preparing their huge ships for sail. It was hot and congested. Someone knocked into Lucien as they rushed by and a throng of workers swarmed around him. By the time he fought his way out of the crowd, Elain was nowhere to be seen.

“Shit.” Lucien looked around wildly. They’d only been in the city for half a day and he’d already lost the only fae he had to keep track of. He jogged along the docks, looking for that familiar head of brown hair. How had he lost her? 

There was no trace of Elain; even her scent had vanished under the fresh smells he’d just been admiring. His heart quickened furiously as he shoved anyone in his way. Lucien had not just lost his partner on this mission, but the female who could ruin him with a few words, his—

The beating in his chest was even stronger and louder now. Not with worry, he realized after a second, but with something deeper, something he’d only felt once before: the mating bond. His chest thrummed with recognition as Elain tugged on their bond, whether she realized it or not, drawing him to her. Desperate, Lucien followed the bond to its other half.

Lucien found Elain at the far end of the dock, partially obstructed behind stacks of crates, staring up at the largest male he had ever seen. Lucien wasn’t necessarily a small male, but there were plenty of males that were taller or wider than him; the Night Court’s general, for example, or even his oldest brother Eris. Both either taller or more muscular than himself, but Lucien hadn’t lied to Elain—he was a trained warrior, and knew a fae’s strength was more than just one’s muscles. He was lean but muscular, fast, and his fire magic was deadly.

Still, Lucien wouldn’t have said no to a few more inches or an additional twenty or thirty pounds on his frame, just for some extra assurances in this instant. The male towering over Elain was at least 7 feet tall, with more tattoos covering his pale, scarred skin than was on the three overgrown bats of the Night Court. One of his biceps was wider than both of Lucien’s put together, with a thick, barrel chest and thighs thicker than a tree trunks.

Despite the fierceness lining her face, Lucien could feel Elain’s fear through the bond. The male crowded further against Elain and leered down at her. “And what’s a pretty lady like you doing here, all by yourself on the docks?”

“Let me pass, please.”

“Oh, a foreigner.” Lucien could hear the sick delight in the male’s voice. “Has anyone showed you how we welcome visitors to our lovely city?” The male reached a hand out, and Lucien struggled to quietly sneak past the crates blocking him from Elain.

Elain sneered. “I didn’t come here to look at your ugly face.”

Lucien couldn’t help his small smile at Elain’s sass, even as his heart sank and he struggled to get to her. The male’s broad shoulder’s tightened. “You wench—”

She gave the male a condescending look from head to toe. “How does any ship you board manage to stay afloat? Do they just throw you overboard to serve as an anchor?”

“You fucking bitch, I’ll make you regret that.”

Summoning his fire magic in his hands, Lucien lept up behind the male and wrapped one burning hand around the male’s mouth and another around his throat, his legs firmly wrapped around his opponent’s midsection. He held on tight, tighter than he’d ever grasped anything before, his rage at someone threatening and insulting his mate fueling his desire to hurt and maim and kill. 

Lucien smelled burning flesh, the scent so acrid that not even the calming smells of the sea could mask the terrible odor emanating from the male’s body. The fae struggled against Lucien, tried to break the death grip that was threating to suffocate him, but found no amount of muscles and raw strength could compete with a male who needed to protect his mate.

“Apologize,” Lucien demanded, ripping the hand over the male’s mouth away. Lucien didn’t need to look at his hand to know that the warm liquid staining his fingers was blood.

“S-sorry!” the male gasped. Good enough. Lucien slapped his spread hand over the entirety of the male’s face again, his flames melting the male’s fresh and sinew away from his skull. The fae’s defeated groan was one of the most delightful things Lucien had ever heard.

The male’s body trembled underneath him. He needed to finish him before his legs gave out. Lucien leaned into the male’s head, so close his lips grazed the male’s pale, pointed ear. “Get the fuck away from my mate,” he growled, low enough that Elain couldn’t hear, then lept off the male and pushed his swaying body off the docks into the sea.

It took a few moments for Lucien to calm down enough to remember himself. The sounds of the busy dock gradually drifted to his ears as he took one calming breath after another. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d lost control and his inner beast took charge like that. A frisson of emotion split through his chest, and Lucien looked to Elain.

“Elain,” Lucien said softly, her fear making him sick. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her body stiff as she stood watching him. Fear, and another, barely perceptible smell, emanated from her slight forn. He held up his hands before remembering the blood staining his flesh. Reaching over the docks to swipe his hands into the sea, he held up his clean hands and slowly approached her. 

“Are you alright?”

Elain barked a short, high pitched laugh. “Am I alright? I just watched you melt the skin off a male’s face with your bare hands! Of course I’m not alright!” She glanced into the sea. “Did you kill him?”

“I don’t care,” Lucien answered truthfully without thinking, but grimaced when Elain flinched. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Elain, but what that male was saying to you…what he was going to do to you, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“But did you have to be so, so…violent? It was ghastly, barbaric—”

“It was Fae, Elain.” Lucien took another tentative step towards the female. “That violence is within each and every fae, always lurking just under our skin, looking for any excuse to break free and punish those who threaten those we care about.”

“You’re wrong,” Elain whispered, looking devastated. “I’m nothing like that, like you. I’m not Fae.”

Her horror roiled his stomach, but better for her to face the truth now. “That’s where I think you’re wrong, Elain.” Slowly, he reached a hand out, blood still under his fingernails, and entwined his large hand with her small, clean, perfect one. She tried to pull her hand from his but he held on. “Whether you accept it or not, you’re no longer human. You’re as much Fae as I am, and you have your own inner beast waiting to escape. Cauldron, were you even aware of the things you were saying to that male, how you were taunting him?” He studied her hand and the long, slightly pointed nails on each finger. If she so desired it, she could easily rip someone’s throat out now. “Would you have said those things as a human? You’re fae now and your beast is raring for a fight. "

Elain was quiet, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to destroy the world or be violent.”

“Then let me be your protector, Elain.” He moved their twined hands together and lowered his voice. “A higher being connected us for some reason—take advantage of it to do want you want within reason, find yourself, with the knowledge that your mate will be nearby to keep you safe.” He darted a quick look up to Elain’s face at her small intake of breath. “Which is, I suspect, at least part of the reason why you insisted on joining me, correct?”

She hung her head. “I don’t want to give you any false promises about…us.”

Lucien’s chest ached but he gave Elain an unaffected grin. “Of course not, my lady. We’re associates journey towards a common goal, right?” He frowned. “Even if you had ulterior motives for joining me.”

Elain withdrew her hand from his grasp, her gaze cold. “You cannot fault me for trying to find my place in the world I was unfairly thrust into.”

“Fault you? Of course not. Do I perhaps think you foolish for attempting to do so during a critical and dangerous mission?” Lucien shrugged, rather than state the obvious.

Elain stepped away on wobbly legs. “We’ve already established you’re not a gentleman, so say what’s on your mind!” she snapped, all fear of him forgotten.

Lucien was glad—he’d rather see Elain furious with him than afraid of him, or afraid of herself. “Fine. While I commend your courage and need to find yourself in this new world, I think you may be in a bit over your head and are too stubborn to admit it. No, I know you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

She paused. “You don’t think me too weak to accompany you?”

“There are many things I find you, Elain Archeron, but weak is not one of them.”

They stared at each other, unmoving, for several seconds. “Everyone else always thought me too quiet and reserved. Nesta and Feyre are bold; I’m supposed to be the quiet one.” Elain cocked her head. “It’s nice, not having that expectation.”

Lucien could relate all too well to other’s idealized expectations and the pressures it created. “Well, one benefit of being fae: you’re strong enough now that you probably could have punched that male and sent him flying off the docks, so I don’t believe you have to worry about being weak.”

“I didn’t mean weak in that way.”

“I know. I don’t think you’re weak in any sense of the word.”

Elain bit her bottom lip, but Lucien could see the corners of her mouth raise slightly all the same. “You overestimate my ability to fight. I’ve never hit someone in my life.”

“That’s alright; we still need to find a ship for passage. Perhaps you’ll find some other poor soul to antagonize and I can teach you.” Lucien lightly grabbed Elain’s wrist and pulled her out of the cover of the crates. He looked around; no one was staring at them, so it appeared nobody saw—or cared—about their altercation. Lucien dropped her hand as they began walking down the docks, but Elain stayed next to him. 

“Let’s find us a ship that can take us where we need to go. The sooner it leaves, the better.”

“Any requirements?” Elain asked, her eyes wide again at the unfamiliar sights surrounding them.

“Large enough that it won’t topple over, and preferably without any holes in its hull. Truthfully, I know very little about ships.”

Elain hummed. “My father was a merchant, and worked with several different ships and crews to transport his goods to and from the Continent. That ship, for example,” pointing to a large boat to their right, “probably wouldn’t be comfortable for us.”

“Why is that?” Lucien had been eyeing that ship as an option for them, and could see no obvious issues. Its sails were intact, the hull complete, and though a bit plain, it looked clean enough.

“Look at its gangway, see how it’s all dirty and covered in…filth? That means they’re probably transporting a large number of animals, so it will be messy and smelly and loud. If there’s nothing else it will work, but…” Elain shrugged. “We could probably do better.”

“I see,” Lucien said slowly, watching as several large oxes were indeed shoved up the creaky gangway onto the boat. “Well spotted. What about that one?”

Elain looked at a ship further down the dock Lucien pointed out. It was larger than the first, its sails bright white and hull shiny. Someone had even painted the wood in bright, colorful paints.

“Definitely not. That ship has never sailed before. It’s bad luck to journey on a ship’s maiden voyage.”

Lucien hummed. Must be a human superstition. They continued leisurely strolling down the dock. “In that case, what do you recommend?”

Elain scanned the dozens of ships around them as they continued to walk, her eyes sharp and quick. Eventually her gazed focused on one ship. “That one.”

“That one?” Lucien’s eyebrows raised in surprise. It was a plain and unremarkable ship, not the largest or smallest, with no finery or distinguishing features. “What makes it suitable for us?”

Elain nodded her head to a gruff looking male studiously inspecting several crates loaded with spices. “Because the ship’s cook has ordered a large number of different spices for food. If the captain cares that much about keeping their passengers happy, they must run a decent ship. Plus, look at that trunk.” They watched as a large, painted chest was brought onto the ship. It was decorated with gold accents and had small, brass feet on the bottom corners, to protect the chest’s painted bottom. “That’s the personal chest of a very wealthy fae. Those with money don’t trust just anyone to transfer themselves or their goods long distances. We want this ship,” Elain finished, looking pleased with herself.

“How do you know that’s the ship’s cook?”

“The grease stained apron and burn scars on his arms look convincing.”

Lucien hummed. “If you’re sure…”

But Elain was already off, moving towards the male wearing his dirty apron. “Tide’s blessings! We’d like to inquire about booking passage on this fine ship.”

“Main deck, talk to the female in the blue jacket,” the male said without looking at either Elain or Lucien. He gave a grunt of dismay when he opened a black tin overflowing with a red powder. “And where is my Raskian paprika, Szechka? I know authentic Raskian paprika straight from the fields when I see it, and this shit isn’t it.”

Leaving the angry cook and his stuttering supplier, the pair walked up the sturdy gangway to the ship’s main deck. It was controlled pandemonium, much like the state of the dock: faes hurriedly carrying supplies and parcels onto the boat, performing last minute cleanings and mending. Lucien looked up to see a small winged fae hovering in midair while carefully patching a hole in the main sail. 

It took them several moments to find the female. Shorter than even Elain and even slighter, the Lesser Fae had light gray skin and black hair. She stood near the helm, watching the movement of every being on the ship with a keen eye. A cracked, brown leather notebook was in her slightly scaly hands, and she occasionally jotted something down in the book.

“Tide’s blessings,” Lucien said, approaching the woman. She looked up at them with wholly black, narrowed eyes. “We were told to speak with you concerning booking passage for ourselves on this ship.”

“Aye, I’m the one you’d wish to speak with.” The woman’s voice was soft and wispy, each word floating away on the sea breeze as soon as it left her thin lips. “We’re set to leave tomorrow morning, making our way down the coast to a neutral village in the mortal lands then back north, along the eastern and northern coasts of Prythian to arrive in Hybern 43 days after settling out.”

Lucien kept his face blank, though the ship being bound for Hybern unsettled him. Rhys was right, that the Continental Fae were indeed more comfortable with Hybern than previously thought. “Are you planning on stopping at the Slevibor Islands while making your way down the coast to the mortal lands?”

The Slevibor Islands were several small, nearly uninhabited islands along the western coast of the Continent, due west from Koschei’s Lake. The islands were near the start of the river that he and Elain would take to get to the death god’s lake. Only one small port town, rumored to be filled with dangerous pirates, occupied the islands, though perhaps the rumors held some truth to them, based on the way the Lesser fae’s eyes widened. “We weren’t planning on stopping at Slevibor, no. Very few reputable ships do.”

“And is there any way we could convince the captain to make a special trip?” Lucien asked, subtly flashing his full coin purse at the female. 

The fae pursed her lips. “Interesting that two faes from Prythian need to visit the Slevibor Islands so badly that they’re willing to pay extra for the trip.”

“Nothing that interesting, just doing a bit of travel.”

The female gave a noncommital ‘humph’ and opened her aged notebook and a quill. “Spring Court, I’m assuming?” she asked, not looking at either of them. “You, especially,” she pointed at Elain, “have the look of Spring about you.”

Elain blushed, but Lucien had to admit the fae was correct: Elain looked as fresh and innocent as many of the Spring Court nobility, especially with her wide, brown eyes and lovely hair. “Er, that’s right,” Lucien said eventually when he realized both Elain and the fae female were looking at him expectantly. “We’re from Spring. How could you tell?”

“My mother was originally from Spring.” The female continued taking notes down in her book, the quill resting against the webbing between her fingers. “She fled shortly after the old High Lord was murdered and the new one ascended. She could see the writing on the wall about the new High Lord, knew nothing good was to come from him. From what I hear from the waters, she was correct, and my sisters who remain are not prospering like they once did.”

Lucien started. Of course the female was at least part water-wraith. He knew little about the treatment of Lesser fae in the Continent, but if it was anything like Prythian, the fact that this female appeared to have a high ranking position on the ship meant she had beaten many prejudices to get this far. Unease at hearing someone talk so crudely yet accurately about Tamlin—at one time, his dearest and only friend in the world—settled low in his gut.

“My father was a merchant,” the female went on conversationally, seeing the earlier surprise in Lucien’s face. “I was born on his ship—this ship, in fact—and inherited it when he retired. Decades now.” She tapped on her notebook with her quill and looked up at them from the corners of her eyes. “How much coin do you have?”

Lucien told her, and though the female tried to remain stoic, he could smell her excitement at the sum. “We won’t stop at Slevibor, but I can have some crewmembers row you two to the Islands, provided you both pack light. No trunks. Meals are included while you’re on the boat. Depending on our timing, we may even be able to send you off with some provisions, but no promises. We’re tight on space, but I’ll find room for two extra hammocks. Any questions?”

Elain and Lucien had none, and the woman smiled, her mouth full of pointed teeth. “Then let me welcome you to the Eueteria. My name is Thetis, and I’ll be your captain. What are your names?”

Lucien and Elain provided fake names to Captain Thetis. “Oran and Phoebe,” she said, adding their names to an already long list of others. “Reason for travel?”

“Uh,” Lucien began. He didn’t think anyone would particularly care why he and Elain were joining the ship, as long as they paid, so he didn’t have a specific backstory planned. “We’re… um…”

“On our honeymoon!” Elain gave Captain Thetis a wide, eager smile at the same time she forcefully grabbed Lucien’s arm. “Newly married. Oran here,” Elain said, squeezing Lucien’s arm for dear life, “knows it’s my life’s dream to visit every inch of the Continent and like a good…husband…he’s giving me the best wedding present I could have dreamed of!” 

Lucien was positive that their new captain did not believe them. “Alright,” Thetis said slowly, looking between Lucien and Elain’s flushed and awkwardly smiling faces. “I’ll put ‘pleasure’ as your reason for travel.”

Lucien was sure his face was as red as his hair for several minutes after they provided a deposit and were given instructions for the next morning. They left the docks, each refusing to look at each other, and made their way back into town, all while Lucien wondered: why?

Why had Elain said they were newly married? She had made it clear to him that she wasn’t interested in him in that way, even if her body sometimes thought otherwise. Perhaps she simply panicked—loath as he was to admit it, the cover story of two besotted, hapless fae on their honeymoon was a decent explanation for why there were traveling alone together. 

It probably didn’t even matter, Lucien thought as they stopped at a colorful flower market. Based on the long list of people already traveling on the boat, he and Elain would be lucky to each have their own hammock in the large shared sleeping quarter. Nothing would happen. They would be on the ship for just a few days, get to the Slevibor Islands, then make the arduous journey along the river that would take them directly to Koschei’s Lake.

Directly to the most dangerous being perhaps in the world. 

[simadillo]

family reunion | the world's most interesting uncle

frequently disappears for months at a time only to return with a backpack full of bizarre souvenirs and a few new scars. if you're really lucky, he'll tell you the stories of how he got them.

family reunion challenge by @faerie-tempest

[crystal-verse]

Day 9 - Lend an Ear

[this one is 2k words. oops. the post-5.0 wolgraha grabbed me by the throat i guess, oops]

Your back and hip ache, and you're sure tomorrow will leave you stuck in bed from the fatigue and pain, but for tonight -- you are free of the Light choking your chest and your veins, Emet-Selch is dead and will never haunt you again, and the Exarch (Raha, your Raha, and it feels so, so strange to think of him thus again) is alive and whole.

There's revelry, amongst the people of the Crystarium, and you cannot blame them for that -- the other Scions, too, are drawn into the revelry themselves. Mehka glances at you, concerned (it was she who had initially thought to hold the Light, but you had known, somewhere in your bones, that if either of you were to carry it, it should be you), but you wave her off, and she soon turns away to speak with Y'shtola.

Beside you, the Exarch -- G'raha Tia, that seaglass-eyed scholar with both eyes stained red, now -- shifts. You are reminded, again, that you are not the only one who will be aching -- the many layers of his robes hides much of his skin and the crystal that has consumed it, but even still you can see bruises and other cuts and gashes, and you've no idea what damage the bullet in his back did, if anything. There is some unreadable emotion in their gaze, but beneath that all -- you think that there is love, there.

It is -- difficult, still, to speak after so long, but if anyone is to hear your voice (if anyone, anyone at all) it should be them. "We should go to the Spagyrics." Your words are soft, and for a moment you wonder if the Exarch (Raha, you should call them Raha) heard you.

"I. . . would rather not." Their words are no less soft than your own, though slightly louder. "If -- if you are injured, I may spare some of my time to aid you. I do have a not insignificant amount of healing experience, as you may recall."

Indecision wars at you -- you want to make sure that he is unharmed, that his injuries are seen to, you had not even considered your own. But. . . perhaps. Perhaps there can be. . . a trade? "I. . . would like that." You say, carefully. "So long as I may spare some of my own effort to look at your own wounds?"

Raha so very visibly debates, in his head, before nodding. "Very well. Shall we?"

Together, the two of you set off to the Tower. It's a slow process -- now unhooded, it seem as though the entire Crystarium wishes to see their Exarch, wishes to speak with him. But your shared, slow progress is no less progress, and 'tis not too late into the evening by the time you are both at the doorway. The gatekeep waves you both through, and Raha leads you through the crystalline corridors, up pathways you'd never seen. Away from the Ocular, you think -- you do not recall the exact pathway, but you know that this one is different. It is a simple sort of room that Raha takes you to, small and plain and not nearly as opulent as you'd expect the keeper of the Tower to dwell in. (Though. . . remembering the G'raha Tia of some years past, the plainness begins to make sense. Even then, back at the Waking Sands, he had been one always focused on the grandure of others and yet never attempting to claim any of that himself, not truly. Fine with a simple room, fine with plain clothing, fine with simply being yet another Scion.)

To a bathroom you both go, and you are lucky enough that you'd taken your own healing kit with you to the Tempest -- you'd not known if you would need it, and 'tis helpful to have the physical vials and potions and bandages, even if healing magic itself in theory could eliminate their need. You do not summon your faerie, yet. You will wait for that.

Raha's hands are gentle, as he pulls upon the white magic and weaves it into you. They blush, to begin with, when you shed all but your smallclothes to allow access to the many wounds and aches, but that soon falls away into a calm, dedicated focus, that which would be seen on any medical professional. The gashes on your chest and arms are healed, and Raha coaxes your dislocated fingers (you'd forgotten about that, somehow -- the pain bleeding into everything else) back into their joints. Your tail, broken in several places, is carefully held while Raha keeps healing with that keen focus, and when he has finished, all injuries healed as much as they can and all aches soothed as much as they will be, you sigh and lean forwards to press your head against his chest.

"I. . . want to talk to you." You tell him, as softly as he had held you, is holding you. "Pray, lend an ear?"

A quiet breath. "I would be honored to hear whatever you would wish to tell me," they say, and there is reverence in their voice.

"Thank you." Then, before you forget -- you have neither your codex nor the aetherical quill that comes with it, but you are of the K tribe, and arcanima of any kind still comes easily to you. Oberon -- or. . . what is left of Oberon, is summoned, the faerie's light dimmed but Light increased (and oh, how it had broken your heart to see what had become of them, as Titania -- but that is gone, and in the past, and Oberon is still here). "Where to start. . . "

Well. You should start with actually healing Raha, to begin with. "I -- would you undress, please? At least so I can see to your chest?" You are less well-versed in any professional healing, but your battlefield healing has been well enough, and -- it is Raha. You can set aside your embarrassment for long enough to do this.

"Oh -- of course!" Raha slides his arms out of the sleeves of the robes, and -- oh, you'd forgotten just how it fit on them, didn't you? The hood being so large and spacious, enough space for them to slide their sleeves out that way, letting the fabric fall down to rest around their waist as they sit. "You were saying?"

"Right." Right, right. "I knew you were G'raha Tia." You tell them, before you can lose your courage. "For. . . a long time, I think."

Raha startles, at that. "You -- truly? How?"

"It's embarassing. . ." you're not sure you could justify yourself, were you to tell the actual reason. (Fray had certainly laughed at you, to begin with, before the agony of it had sank in.)

"I shan't judge you, if that is what stays your tongue." Raha promises, a genuine earnestness in their gaze. "Though -- neither will I judge you if you wish not to speak of it."

You fidget with a roll of bandages in your hand, and choose to keep your gaze firmly on the crystal planes of his shoulder as you speak. "I, ah. . . well. You have very memorable lips."

A beat of silence, and then -- Raha bursts into giggles, his flesh hand lifted, in vain, to stifle them. "Wicked white -- that was it, truly? My lips?"

You huff. "It's not my fault that you have pretty lips." You smack his arm in jest -- only to panic at the sudden hiss. "Sorry, sorry, sorry--"

"No, no, 'twas not your fault." Raha grits their teeth for another moment, before forcibly relaxing. "Tis not you who inflicted these wounds on me, Sae'pheli'ehva."

". . . even still." The bruises are mottled purple and black and green, a few barely-healing yellow, and while Oberon flutters about pressing bits of healing magic onto him, the various cuts and gashes and places where the crystal has pulled away from the skin and muscle is not so easily dealt with. "I. . . I missed you. Is it silly to say?"

Raha hums. "I do not think so. I certainly missed you, those many long years."

A jar of salve pulled from a pocket. You sniff at it -- ah, good. Some kind of medical glue, if you recall, so this should help with the crystal and muscle problem, once you can get the bleeding to stop. (At least it is sluggish.) "Why me, anyways. . .?"

A longer hum. "If I may be honest with you. . . "

"You may. If you want to be." You'll not be able to use the sleeves of your undershirt for anything again, not with the blood that will sink into the fibers, but that's alright. The bleeding's stopped enough for the salve, so you dip a finger into the jar and get to work. Oberon is still pressing little Whipsering Dawns into them, so you shall leave the smaller cuts to them, and focus your attention on sealing the crystal to flesh, and possibly stitching the larger gashes.

"Thank you." Raha lifts an arm at your prompting -- the right one, rough planes of crystal, so you can reach the skin and muscle beneath, the area just below where his ribs end. "To be entirely honest -- I had fallen in love with you, quite shortly after our first meeting. And, in the Eighth Umbral Era when I awoke. . .the only thing written of you was of your deeds as Warrior of Light. There was little and less of you as a person, though Mehka was granted that honor. It seemed. . . a cruel joke, for the one to capture my attention so easily to be the one to be forgotten by history as much as you were."

. . . oh. "I -- I had wanted to try loving you, I think." You set your hands in your lap. Work up the courage to look at them, meeting their eyes. "I had wanted to. I think -- I want to, still. But. . . the Scions needed me, and you were busy with whatever work you had come to Eorzea for to begin with, and. . . well. Things never worked out, is all."

Raha looks at you so very, very softly. "I am honored that you would want to try loving me." He takes your hands in his own, crystal-and-flesh upon your own mismatched hands, brown-and-black skin. "I know that love does not come easily, to you."

"Ha -- no, it really doesn't. And. . . thank you."

"For?"

"For everything. For loving me, unconditionally. For being willing to avert my death, even if it seemed an impossible dream. For making the Crystarium so full of love, and for being willing to extend that love to me. For making the Crystarium a home, and for letting the Crystarium be my home." Tears well at your eyes, but they're good ones. "So. . . thank you. For everything."

Raha has no words to give you, after that, but his watery smile, tears in his own eyes, is gift enough.

"Now -- could you turn around, please?" You ask, shaking yourself and trying to sink back into that medical mindset. "I'd like to look at your back."

Raha turns, with less pain you hope -- the larger gashes will still need to be stitched, but there are only three of them (one on his chest, from just below the right ribs across to just below his left armpit; one on his shoulder, cutting through where the remains of that vibrant vermillion tattoo is yet to be encased in crystal; and one on his left hip, disappearing below the fabric), and you will have time to get to them later. His back is -- just as bruised as his front, truly, but though there are more scratches and lacerations they are mercifully less severe than the injuries on his front. The bullet wound -- you hiss through your teeth at the sight of it. The bullet is still there, even, embedded in the flesh, and you cannot imagine the agony that it has been, for Raha.

"This is going to hurt now," you say, pulling a pair of tweezers from your toolkit. (They weren't meant to be there, but they've been irreplaceably helpful.) "I'm sorry."

You know that it must be painful, but Raha does no more than twitch once, when you reach to pull out the bullet, but you can see some layers of tension slough off once the bullet is out. Adloquium and Excogitation are cast quickly -- these spells are most familiar to you, and so you cast them with your hands pressed against their back, you can feel even more clearly how the last of the tension leaves Raha's body. "Is this better?"

"Yes. Much." With the pain mostly gone, you can now see how the exhaustion weighs on Raha. You finish the healing as quickly as you can without sacrificing any quality (helping to pull the robes entirely off of Raha, when you need to see to his legs), and then dismiss Oberon, with a sigh. "Is there somewhere I can rest, for tonight?"

"Mmh." Raha stretches in a very cat-like way, then stands, both their clothing and yours gathered in their arms. "If it would not be presumptuous of me -- I could lend you my own rooms?"

Hm. "Cuddle me like you let me do back at the Waking Sands, and it'll be fine. If that's alright with you?"

Raha's ears wiggle in a very cute way, and though the both of you are exhausted, you feel a surge of victory. It's not quite love, yet, but you still want, and even as the Exarch trying to keep his distance Raha had still been so kind and so loving, and -- this is a good first step, you think. Laying together, sleeping in each other's arms as you both heal from the struggles of the times before. (You would like to get used to this, you think, as you settle into the bedding. Raha's arms around you, protective but not caging, a gentle embrace. It's more than you'd hoped for, all those years ago.)