#pathless world

[gamingportugal]

Pathless Woods é mais um jogo de sobrevivência que junta elementos de construção; crafting; ação e agricultura e conta ainda com um modo de cooperação até 4 jogadores

[legionofpotatoes]

My annual invocation to play The Pathless to anyone that will listen

[helixrainn]

wannabe gods

[plow-and-propose]

it is very funny to go from Abzu - a game where you cannot backtrack even if you try - to The Pathless - a game where you can backtrack all the way to the starting area just by jumping off the wrong cliff

[tenuuchlegch]

Finished the Pathless and I can safely say -smacks game case- THIS is peak Odtsetseg core right here.

[rrover]

if they do make another game with botw/totk link and zelda (or just in the same art style as botw/totk) then i hope it takes place entirely outside of hyrule that poor continent has been wrecked enough

[fatesundress]

⭑ settle soft and as pure as snow. tom riddle x reader

summary. he’s tender the way snow is. devout as a prayer that it will clear come spring.

tags. gn reader, ooc tom to 99% of the world but man do i love the 1% to whom it isn't, short little blurb, fear of death / discussions of mortality, fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint but mostly comfort, just. lovers! being lovers! kind of a sequel to your kitchen table in that it's as much an analysis of tom's fears and desires as it is an x reader, i needed this so i wrote it idk what to tell you okay

note. in my long absence i hit 1k followers (!!!???) and while i've struggled to write anything substantial, i really enjoyed this and wanted to share something to somewhat express my gratitude :') have some healed tom (inspired by hozier) and as always, my requests are open in case something sparks inspiration. in the meantime, thanks for everything!!

word count. 791

He’s so suited to this. Beautifully, frustratingly so — born in its longest nights and shaded in its sundry tones; its stellular blues and soft, powdery whites — Tom Riddle is December made mortal. (An offensive turn of phrase, you’re sure, but he’s suited to mortality too.) You think he used to charm his cheeks not to flush but relented the effort at some point, some years ago with you, because the cold splashes them pink to his ears now, snow dotting his tousled hair. He has the integrity still to deny your caps and earmuffs with a signature scowl, but — one day.

It’s a walk through the night for no particular reason, with no particular direction. There’s moorland past the trail that winds around your shared abode, tall and dense and magical. It satiates something in him. The unknown. The need for it.

Sometimes he gets restless and doesn’t tell you, only stares furtively from the northernmost window, fingers conjuring spirals of ice on the sill absentmindedly. You take his hand and kiss the cool digits one by one. To remind him of intention.

It’s the decay, you presume. A little voice always tugs him that way, but it gets louder this time of year. With everything shedded, rotted, buried and slumbering, Tom endures watching the cycle he hates most echo into spring. Rebirth, yes, but not how he pictures it. What he knows in the steepest dusks is that one winter will come where he will not wake up again with the flowers, where you might vow to tend whatever garden someday blooms over his grave, a name etched into the stone that none but you will remember. Many winters after that, when you follow him into death and the house is mildewed and lichen clusters his favourite window, the grave will wear until even that is gone to time.

It terrifies him.

So you walk. Intention. Your hand is in his.

The magic of a simple charm warms you somewhat, but you enjoy the subtle sting of cold. You can feel it because you’re alive. It’s the same life that strung you to him in a way that can’t be severed, and now you make new trails in pathless woods and wonder at constellations, spiles broaching syrup into buckets from the trees. You collect them for potions. You invent new ones together, and tease him over a coughing fit in cauldron smoke that immortality is more than living forever.

He kisses you quiet, but he’ll listen later. There’s so much time.

You wonder if it suits you, too — winter — by the way he tends to you when it comes. Doting. You would never have imagined considering him having such a virtue when you met him, but he’s… tender, the way snow is.  Devout as a prayer that it will clear come spring. Stinging, soft, ephemeral. You weather him. But how he keeps you warm when the night drags on, and talk of constellations turns to talk of grief, he shelters you.

When your back is bare and you’re laid away from him, he traces the skin like he’s never seen it before. It’s a wonder, you think, to learn the mechanisms of touch like a foreign language. Perhaps it would feel the same for the first thousand times. How many winters did he trace the cool tile of his bedroom wall just like this, with skinny fingers scraping at the mortar on another empty birthday? There are questions even now you think to ask but don’t. He offers the answers mostly as he’s reminded of them: that a clearing in the moors evokes a memory of a bad field trip, a mantelpiece of tchotchkes echo a stolen box in a burning wardrobe, that most things, at times, feel fleetingly disparate, ready to be returned to their right place. Tea will go without sugar again as he will go without you.

Nonsense. This is yours, you tell him, the word sewn between you.

His pink cheeks are all the colour you see in the dark. The tree sap is sweet and light. You write a letter to a potioneer in New Guinea to draft, and turn left instead of right the next night, a new forest discovered within the first. Your New Year’s Eve is a swell of light in birthday candles, laughing into his cheek at some bad joke until the sound is smothered by a kiss he breaks too soon by laughing too. It’s a sound you can’t invent or imagine, words failing you even when you find them for everything else he is. 

Spring comes one unsuspecting morning, twice and twenty times, greys strewn in the black of his hair. You smile with crow’s feet into winter again.

taglist. @lyis @indimoss @poddzi @esolean @d1anna @maripositanoctruna @mentally-in-northern-italy @ronniemaximoff1234 @moobell55 @jaerang @ramayantika @saltwaterbythesea @acube07 @togenabi @adazito @kitcat334 @blaurghhh @shutupfinn @jaymeeshayden @lilu842 @leaosee @garfunkelworld @definitely-not-captain-america @multiplefandomstan @mangoesareorange

[adsurgitvagus]

Rend this world asunder, rebuild on its bones

Entry for the Giant Squid's The Pathless art contest!

[rogueddie]

Fluffy Steddie Fic Recs

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🎀

Steve Harrington Tears the Munson Doctrine to Shreds

Peachesandpears

Eddie had always been more than happy with the quick and dirty of Indy. He’d always been content to get his rocks off with some guy with the mutual understanding that they’d never have to see each other again. It was the beautiful symbiotic relationship of two gay dudes who would forever be a stain on the collective American moral conscious. And he loved being a stain on moral consciouses.

But Steve fucking Harrington, the goddamn bastard, is making him yearn. Tore the Munson Doctrine to shreds, the sacrilegious asshole.

Words : 8,325 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Thank Our Lucky Stars (That We Can Call This Ours)

steddieeddie

A lot has happened in Steve Harrington’s life, specifically in the last six years. Too much stuff for one person to deal with, and he’s held onto it for too long.

When Robin tells him that shaving his head will help him let go, because hair holds onto bad energy? Well, he’s willing to try anything.

Words : 2,330 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Bambi, can't you understand?

19_empty_vacancies

“Even if you can’t get the words out, Steve, there’s no disguising the way you look at him. Have always looked at him. You walk around shooting him the big eyes like you’re Gomez Addams looking at Morticia, ready to pounce.”

“Oh God, do you think he ever noticed?”

Words : 4,675 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

A King and His Poet

steviewashere

Steve makes his way to a stack of notebooks. All piled precariously on Eddie's way too cramped desk. One has a large beer stain on the cover. Another is burned in the corner from a dropped joint most likely. There's one more with an ominous yellow stain, Steve doesn't touch that one.

But there's one that catches his eye.

It's a leather bound, small journal.

Words : 1,639 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

listen to the siren's song

atimelessfiction

Corroded Coffin plays at The Hideout every Tuesday, but Steve doesn’t go because of them. He doesn’t go because of Eddie Munson, whose fingers dance over the guitar strings with such a beautiful precision that Steve sometimes wonders if he made a deal with the devil.

No, Steve doesn’t go because of a band with stupid music and a stupid band member who has stupid hair and a stupid voice. Steve goes because his friends go. 

That's the only reason.

Words : 4,512 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

There Is A Pleasure In The Pathless Woods

crow_of_crimes (Theyna_Shipper)

Hey, um… Do you want to go for a hike?”

If you’d asked Steve what he’d expected when he opened his door at 9am on a Wednesday in March, it wouldn’t have been Eddie, hands in his pockets, chewing on his lower lip, asking that, but somehow it doesn’t phase him.

“Sorry, this is weird,” Eddie adds before Steve can respond. He’s doing that thing where he rocks back and forth on his heels and darts his eyes everywhere, refusing to choose a single spot, like a rodent scanning his surroundings for predators. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Eddie Munson stand completely still. “Shouldn’t have just… showed up like this.”

“It’s alright, man,” Steve says, truthfully. He doesn’t get a lot of visitors alone in his parents’ huge house, except Robin, and she can’t keep him company all the time, especially now that she has her own friends. Dammit.

Words : 4,791 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Side B

Frckn

Steve keeps trying to tell Eddie he loves him, but it never feels like the right time. They keep getting interrupted, and as much as Steve loves their friends, they’re driving him crazy. All he wants is a moment alone with his boyfriend. It really feels like the world is against him.

Words : 8,153 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

starsdontsleep

Dustin might ask him to watch DnD, but Steve attends because of Eddie.

Words : 2,241 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

At the speed of love (nothing changes faster)

Guardthenest

Somehow, Robin has talked Steve into an LGBT Speed Dating event on Valentine's Day. He's just doing it to be a good friend, he definitely does not care about finding love. Definitely not. But when it happens to sit down right across from him, who is he to say no to Cupid?

Words : 4,695 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Absolute Beginners

IntoTheStardust

Eddie asks Steve and Robin to fill in for two of his D&D members. Steve has more fun than he could have imagined.

Words : 3,488 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

it's supposed to be fun (turning twenty-one)

pricklywhicket

“So what you’re telling me is that you’ve never had a birthday party that was for you? No nerdy superhero themes, no dinosaur balloons, nothing?”

“Nope,” Steve replies, popping the ‘p’ in a way that Eddie just knows he’s picked up from Robin. “The last couple I’ve been too busy to even remember. So, like I said. Not a big deal, don’t make a thing out of it.”

“Oh Steve. Stevie. Babe.” Eddie’s voice has taken on a manic quality that almost always means trouble.

Words : 7,457 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

The "Friend Date" (oneshot)

jamsin_3

Steve gets stood up by a girl. Before he can make the walk of shame out of the diner, he's surprised when Eddie enters to erase Steve's humiliation. Based on that one Tumblr post about getting stood up on a blind date and a stranger swoops in to try and save the date.

Words : 3,885 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

A Kiss for Luck and We're on Our Way

badfanfictionaire, LittleMissKnowItAll

It’s the week of Steve and Eddie’s wedding, and boy are they ready to get hitched! Will the week fly by in a flurry of fluff and bliss, or will their emotions get the best of them?

A day-by-day fic leading up to the big day.

Words : 25,503 Chapters : 10/10 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

[nousrose]

I maintain that truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. Truth, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organized; nor should any organization be formed to lead or to coerce people along any particular path. If you first understand that, then you will see how impossible it is to organize a belief. A belief is purely an individual matter, and you cannot and must not organize it. If you do, it becomes dead, crystallized; it becomes a creed, a sect, a religion, to be imposed on others. This is what everyone throughout the world is attempting to do. Truth is narrowed down and made a plaything for those who are weak, for those who are only momentarily discontented. Truth cannot be brought down, rather the individual must make the effort to ascend to it.

Truth is a Pathless Land

Jiddu Krishnamurti

[legionofpotatoes]

hard to replay one giant squid without following with the other!

[sitp-recs]

Hello! I hope you are well! Lately I've been thinking about a fanfic that I read a long time ago, I really lost it and I haven't been able to find it but I've always wanted to read something similar! Do you have any recommendations for fanfics that take place in nature? Some excursion to the dark forest maybe ?extra points if it's just the two of them

Hello anon! Sure thing, here are some fics that are either completely or partially set in a forest. I’m probably forgetting some but I’m sure my followers will jump in with more recs!

Doppelganger by @writcraft (M, 7k)

It was just a silly dare, but one ill-advised trip into the Forbidden Forest changes Harry’s life forever.

Hippomancy for Beginners by khalulu (E, 11k)

When Draco desperately insists on becoming a Centaur Liaison, he doesn’t know what he’s getting into, especially with that annoying hero-turned-hermit Harry Potter living right at the entrance to the Forbidden Forest.

Of Hoof Picks, Centaurs and Flight by @blamebrampton (G, 21k)

Harry has promised that he will not do anything to upset the new head of Magical Creatures. Even if it is Draco Malfoy.

The Last of What the World Left You by @xanthippe74 (T, 25k)

If the wizarding world won’t give Draco a second chance, he has a plan to survive: live in his Animagus form, a carrion crow, in the Forbidden Forest. Not only does Harry Potter come along and ruin it, he’s radiating a strange aura of power.

Rough Magic by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Malfoy's magic has run wild. But though wild magic is unpredictable and greatly feared, Harry's damned if he's going to let Malfoy rot in St Mungo's while they work out what to do with him.

Pathless Woods by @shealwaysreads (E, 30k)

Harry finds himself unexpectedly reacquainted with Draco Malfoy when his work as an apprentice wandmaker takes him to Wiltshire. Amongst the trees Harry finds magic, growth, and a man who might finally be proving he’s worthy of the wand that chose him.

Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by Faith Wood (E, 37k)

Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (T, 38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends.

Strangeness and Charm by @drarrytrash (E, 45k)

One November night during his eighth year at Hogwarts, Draco ends up in the forbidden forest. That’s how it starts.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time.

[shaylogic]

Fellow Edwin fans, have you hit the stage of staying up listening to Oscar Wilde's trial and works, leading to the Lord Alfred Douglas poem "Two Loves" yet like I did?

I dreamed I stood upon a little hill, And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemed Like a waste garden, flowering at its will With buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamed Black and unruffled; there were white lilies A few, and crocuses, and violets Purple or pale, snake-like fritillaries Scarce seen for the rank grass, and through green nets Blue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun. And there were curious flowers, before unknown, Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shades Of Nature's willful moods; and here a one That had drunk in the transitory tone Of one brief moment in a sunset; blades Of grass that in an hundred springs had been Slowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars, And watered with the scented dew long cupped In lilies, that for rays of sun had seen Only God's glory, for never a sunrise mars The luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt, A grey stone wall. o'ergrown with velvet moss Uprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazed To see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair. And as I stood and marvelled, lo! across The garden came a youth; one hand he raised To shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hair Was twined with flowers, and in his hand he bore A purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyes Were clear as crystal, naked all was he, White as the snow on pathless mountains frore, Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyes A marble floor, his brow chalcedony. And he came near me, with his lips uncurled And kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth, And gave me grapes to eat, and said, 'Sweet friend, Come I will show thee shadows of the world And images of life. See from the South Comes the pale pageant that hath never an end.' And lo! within the garden of my dream I saw two walking on a shining plain Of golden light. The one did joyous seem And fair and blooming, and a sweet refrain Came from his lips; he sang of pretty maids And joyous love of comely girl and boy, His eyes were bright, and 'mid the dancing blades Of golden grass his feet did trip for joy; And in his hand he held an ivory lute With strings of gold that were as maidens' hair, And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute, And round his neck three chains of roses were. But he that was his comrade walked aside; He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight, And yet again unclenched, and his head Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death. A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold With the device of a great snake, whose breath Was fiery flame: which when I did behold I fell a-weeping, and I cried, 'Sweet youth, Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost rove These pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me sooth What is thy name?' He said, 'My name is Love.' Then straight the first did turn himself to me And cried, 'He lieth, for his name is Shame, But I am Love, and I was wont to be Alone in this fair garden, till he came Unasked by night; I am true Love, I fill The hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.' Then sighing, said the other, 'Have thy will, I am the love that dare not speak its name.'

[octahedral-chaos]

Have a ramble about Unnamed Pathless-inspired AU because I AM THINKING

So Edda revived Aven and recreated the universe, which ended up killing her. HOWEVER, her essence ended up becoming these guardian beings who take care of the new universe (Think Minor gods of sorts), and are called "Light Guardians" by the locals (Which might be humans? Not too sure).

Light Guardians take the form of animals, mostly being chimeras between two or more animals, with white fur/ scales/ feathers/ etc and blue eyes, as well as light blue markings. I'm thinking also halos too, or maybe faceless? There are 9 known Light Guardians, but there could be more. All of them are based on a specific concept, such as elements, emotions, travelling, etc.

Light Guardians are also sapient, and despite being unable to talk, they can understand human language. They can also use elemental magic (Most use lightning and/ or ice. Some can use fire and/ or wind. At least 1 can use transcendence magic).

However, something happened and many of the Light Guardians were corrupted. Basically magical rabies, they went berserk and the land was cast into darkness... literally. Ever since that happened, constant thunderstorms and other disasters became a norm, and there was no blue skies for a long time. The Light Guardians would also kill anyone they see, now beings of complete utter rage and hatred.

All except one, of course.

The Light Guardian of the Night, Máni. A noble steed with massive wings, Máni hid for a long time. Yet there was something odd about them, even before the corruption of the other Light Guardians. They seemingly have memories of a previous life, blurry yet unmistakably there. A life in a land very different to the one they call home. Yet those memories felt like a part of them, yet they do not understand it.

And we have our Protagonist of this story: Aven. Aven was revived by Edda, who was overcome with grief. He spent a long time unconscious, until he woke up in an unfamiliar land. Confused, he tried calling out to Edda with no success.

And then it hit him.

At first, he was terrified. All alone in an unfamiliar world where massive monsters roam and disasters happen at every opportunity. This must be a cruel joke, right? Surely this was a bad dream and he'll wake up, right?

Until he met Máni, and realised that this was, in fact, reality.

Cue Aven and Máni wandering the lands, clearing the corruption and restoring the Light Guardians to their former glory. However, Máni does think Aven looks a little bit... familiar.

AKA: Aven gets thrown into a fantasy setting and has to help a God-horse with saving other God-animals-

[thecryofthegulls]

On Elwing's Bird Forms

In the educated opinion of me, a slightly wine-drunk semi-professional seabird specialist with a Tolkien hyperfixation, procrastinating from a work presentation I should be preparing let's gooooo.

Too many people think of Elwing in the form of a random bird thing, when there are so many interesting species!

First, the source text (emphasis by me):

"... they told that Elros and Elrond were taken captive, but Elwing with the Silmaril upon her breast had cast herself into the sea. Thus Maedhros and Maglor gained not the jewel; but it was not lost. For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Ëarendil her beloved. On a time of night Ëarendil at the helm of his ship saw her come towards him, as a white cloud exceeding swift beneath the moon, as a star over the sea moving in strange course, a pale flame on wings of storm. And it is sung that she fell from the air upon the timbers of Vingilot, in a swoon, nigh unto death for the urgency of her speed, and Ëarendil took her to his bosom; but in the morning with marvelling eyes he beheld his wife in her own form beside him with her hair upon his face, and she slept."

"On those journeys Elwing did not go, for she might not endure the cold and the pathless voids, and she loved rather the earth and the sweet winds that blow on sea and hill. Therefore there was built for her a white tower northward upon the borders of the Sundering Seas; and thither at times all the sea-birds of the earth repaired. And it is said that Elwing learned the tongues of birds, who herself had once worn their shape; and they taught her the craft of flight, and her wings were of white and silver-grey. And at times, when Ëarendil returning drew near again to Arda, she would fly to meet him, even as she had flown long ago, when she was rescued from the sea. Then the far-sighted among the Elves that dwelt in the Lonely Isle would see her like a white bird, shining, rose-stained in the sunset, as she soared in joy to greet the coming of Vingilot to haven."

The Silmarillion CHAPTER 24 OF THE VOYAGE OF EARENDIL AND THE WAR OF WRATH

Mute Swan (Cygnus olor)

Right out of the gate, a swan is a popular choice for Elwing. Makes sense, they are beautiful, regal birds with a graceful baring on the water. There is a strong association between mute swans and England, they are indeed an old world bird and as part of Tolkien's worldview as oak trees. They are also vicious and brave defenders of their young. A tough bird, symbol of the Teleri Elwing's elven clan. However, not the best for Elwing. They are not sea birds, and while powerful fliers, do not fly particularly high or far. Mute swans are heavy, needing a lengthy run on the water to take off with a clacking of their wings. Not the ideal shape to fly across the ocean undetected to find your mariner husband, or meet said husband in the morning sky when he comes back from being a star.

Dalmatian Pelican (Pelecanus crispus)

No, not a Great White Pelican, but a Dalmatian Pelican. More silvery than its pale African cousin, the Dalmatian Pelican has the advantage of being present in more Mediterranean climes, which might be representative of what Sirion was like (thank you @outofangband). Pretty much the largest freshwater bird, this choice for Elwing suffers the same problem as the mute swan. Not a sea bird, doesn't really do long-distance flights. Though I could imagine this large silvery-grey bird being mistaken for a cloud in the night, and you KNOW that the Silmaril is tucked nice and safe in that big pouch!

Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans)

Now that's a sea bird! Another popular choice for Elwing, this graceful soaring beauty is essentially the biggest flying bird in the world by wingspan, with a sweeping 11 feet/3.5 meters. The older they are, the whiter they become, with only bit of dark plumage on the wing tips and tail. The wandering albatross is the textbook example of a great white bird. Albatross adore storms, and can use strong (storm) wings to carry them over vast distances very quickly. They nest on steep hills, because they need the sweet winds to give them lift to take off. All in all, like the others above, large enough to carry a Silmaril without affecting flight capabilities. Though I really can't imagine Ëarendil cradling an albatross to his bosom, long wings flopping down on both sides of him. (Elros and Elrond are definitely albatross chicks muppets, as per @swanmaids' point).

Black-legged Kittiwake (Rissa tridactyla)

A gull! Yes, of course, but which gull? There are 54 gull species, and so many of them are herring gulls. But for Elwing? Ulmo would transform her into a Black-legged Kittiwake. A graceful, almost dove-like gull, Kittiwakes are bright white with wings topped in silver-grey. They fly like they are playing in the wind, and spend most of their lives at sea. Gorgeous sea bird. Ëarendil would hug. Am I biased because I love them? Maybe.

Ross's Gull (Rhodostethia rosea)

You want a more white and daintier gull? I was going to write about the Ivory Gull (Pagophila eburnea) but if we are going with a rare Arctic species, there are many good things about the Ross's Gull. I mean look at it! White and silver-grey with a rosy blush like it is continuously bathed in sunset, a black collar like Elwing is still wearing the memory of the Nauglamír. I also prefer to go with Ross's gull because every time I have seen an ivory gull in the wild it was slightly blood-stained (they feed off polar bear kills) which has very unfortunate implications in Elwing's case really...

But really, if you want a pure-white dove that actually goes sea for your Elwing imagery, go with ivory gull instead!

Roseate Tern (Sterna dougallii)

Terns are gorgeous sea birds with impressive flight capacity, and pack an absolutely ridiculous amount of fight and spite in 100 g. I have a scar on the top of my head from a tern chasing me off a beach where it was nesting. That beak sure pinches. Roseate Tern are particularly pretty, and if you subscribed to raven-haired Elwing, that cap is an excellent match. The adults also gain a pink sunset stain on their underparts, so you get that poetic match again. Terns would absolutely yell at Manwë, and probably have.

Northern Gannet (Morus bassanus)

Now if you think Elwing was pale-haired and blue-eyed, a Northern Gannet would be more for you. Northern Gannets are sea birds of great size, swift and fearless. They quite literally launch themselves into the sea. They are powerful enough fliers to evoke thoughts of storm-wings and clouds under moon. Gannets also follow boats, which works nicely with the imagery of bird-Elwing meeting Vingilot.

White-tailed Tropicbird (Phaethon lepturus)

Look at this beautiful thing, is she not fitting of a daughter of Dior, of Lúthien's line? I hope I see one for real one day. These long-tailed sea birds are excellent, graceful in flight, easy to see at a distance due to their tail. More active in the morning and in the evening, more to catch the morning and evening star. White-tailed Tropicbirds also come in a spectacular 'golden' variety. Absolutely fitting for someone named Star-Spray.

Snow Petrel (Pagodroma nivea)

When I first read the Silmarillion years ago, and I read "... as a white cloud exceeding swift beneath the moon, as a star over the sea moving in strange course, a pale flame on wings of storm" I immediately imagined a glowing white creature that I eventually witness in real life: the gloriously beautiful snow petrel. And while Elwing might not endure the cold and pathless void like a snow petrel would around Antarctica, I think she would revel in the shining feathers, the swift, fleet wings, and, as a feature of being a petrel, the tube nose that would allow her to smell and find Ëarendil anywhere at sea or in the sky. They soar with such joy. Perfect hold-to-your-bosom sized. Snow petrels are one of my favourite sea birds, and you should know more about them!

Like how they have the most hilarious defence mechanism:

...

Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta)

No absolutely not.

[talonabraxas]

IX: The Hermit 🍄 Talon Abraxas Crowley states in the Book of Thoth :The letter Yod is the first letter of the name Tetragrammaton, and this symbolizes the Father, who is Wisdom; he is the highest form of Mercury, and the Logos, the Creator of all worlds. Accordingly, his representative in physical life is the spermatozoon; this is why the card is called The Hermit. 'There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society, where none intrudes,By the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not man the less, but Nature more' Lord Byron