#sailing stones

[caseymac]

Death Valley -- Casey McCallister \\ Instagram

[techtalkbyjames]

👍😃Sailing Stones in Death Valley: 99 Years Later in the Playa... We Solved It... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFFhD5HeByM

[letmeinimafairy]

Back to the Arctic on labradorites, aurora borealis and a ship for @star-of-flame-eternal

[mrs-trophy-wife]

[daeyumi]

Sandsea ☀️🏜️💧

[Linktober 2022 Day 8: Boat]

[dreamdancerdotfile]

got my own theme music

plays wherever I are

(x)

[burr-ell]

percy is the model train guy and fjord is the model ship guy, together they have the SICKEST miniature room

[fuck-you-jack]

toby you are a treasure

[zsorosebudphoto]

Torre de Belém, Lisboa, Portugal, 2-6-23

[markantonys]

day 71 of asking why reddit has suddenly become convinced that the 'finn and mat's rhuidean trip are a waste of time and easily cut, and that season 3 will obviously feature him splitting off from the friends he just reunited with in order to spend the entire season dicking around with thom and getting into shenanigans, as that is much more important to his overall character arc than his 2-book waste arc

like there have been SO MANY posts like this lately and all of them are filled with comments of universal agreement! am i having a stroke? what the hell is going on???? i'll admit mat doesn't have a huge amount of specific stuff to do in the waste aside from rhuidean, but rhuidean is crucial to his character and s2 had Mat-Finn Connection Foreshadowing out the wazoo, plus the waste plotline is MUCH more fertile ground for creating additional Specific Mat Stuff and enhancing his character development & relationships with other main characters than his TDR plotline of dicking around with thom is.

[sourswords]

It's all in motion, no stoppin' it now I got nothing to lose and only one way up I'm burnin' bridges, I destroy the mirage All visions of collisions, fuckin' bon voyage

[hilariouslyedgy]

happy sonic movie birthday now im not one for ships but THIS. this right here is a stobotnik song. I just don’t know who’s pov it would be in but I can’t not think of them when i hear it

[pocketramblr]

Who knows what Gerudo culture or fashion would have evolved into by 'Rule's time but it's nice to think about him getting to experience a bit more of it in another universe... Before BLYGanon sours it for him... Also been thinking about that Great Fairy of the desert...

[letmeinimafairy]

Kraken playing with its prey, back to labradorites. Not pictured - me running around in the snow in -32°C trying to catch some sunlight to film it.

[demenior]

Happy wip Wednesday. Today I offer you an older, unpublished piece I'm still obsessed with. I was trying to write it before the Fjorigins comic was released, but, alas. So it's non-canon.

Fjord and Vandran's first meeting. Sabian is there too.

--

“Stowaways,” Captain Vandran observes. He’s sitting behind a large desk in the captain’s cabin.

Fjord balls his hands into fists to keep them from trembling.

The captain looks to the man standing behind Sabian. The quartermaster, if Fjord heard him right.

“How the fuck did we get stowaways?” the captain has a deep drawl to his voice. He speaks in low tones, which make it sound like he’s not bothered. His sharp gaze suggests otherwise.

“Hell if I know,” the quartermaster shrugs, “I’ve got the men sweeping the brig, but I think it’s just these two brats.”

Vandran nods in agreement, and then focuses his eyes on Fjord and Sabian. He’s got such an intense gaze, that Fjord is certain that this man will kill them. His waxed moustache twitches as his lips curl into a snarl.

“The hell are you boys doing on my ship?”

Sabian’s looking at Fjord. Fjord isn’t sure what to say. He knows the zhelezo in Port Damali, knows what to say as a half-orc and an orphan to appease them into letting him go when he gets into trouble. Knows how to charm the matron at the Asylum into letting him stay just one more night, even though he’s too old to be living on handouts. And now he’s here, out on the open sea, and Fjord doesn’t know what to say.

“You’re Stones?” Vandran guesses. It’s not too hard a guess. Boys wearing ragged pants that are too short at the ankle. Shirts that are threadbare and stained with age. Sabian stole an open vest off a clothesline a few weeks back, but neither of them can afford another shirt or even shoes. They look like what everyone expects of the Asylum wards.

“We’re w-willing to work for passage,” Fjord says. His voice sounds high-pitched, a flighty bird compared to the steady force of the Captains’ drawl.

Captain Vandran sighs loudly, “And what use are two boys to me, Mr. Stone?”

This is the furthest Fjord has ever been from Port Damali and the first thing anyone knows about him is that he’s a fucking Stone.

“That’s not my name!” Fjord snaps.

It draws the captain’s full attention. Fjord squares his shoulders. Stares back.

“That is the name given to wards of the state, am I wrong?” the captain asks.

“It was given to me,” Fjord admits. His voice cracks, “but I don’t want it. My name is Fjord.”

Captain Vandran nods slowly. Looks to Sabian, but Sabian can’t hold his gaze.

“We can work,” Fjord says again. Sabian’s gone mute, so it’s up to Fjord to save them, “whatever needs doing—cleaning, cooking. I’m-- I know how to mend. I can sew. Or—or I learn fast. Whatever you need.”

The captain nods slowly, strokes a hand down his pointed beard. Looks up to the quartermaster again. Fjord turns his head to watch the silent conversation play out. He doesn’t know them well enough to read them. The captain is too stoic to gauge his emotions.

“Do you know what the policy is for stowaways, boy?” Captain Vandran asks.

Fjord thinks carefully, “They—they get reported to the zhelezo? When you dock?”

Vandran taps his fingers on his desk, “That’s what they say, yes. But how often do you think a stowaway actually makes it back to shore?”

Sabian whimpers. Fjord digs his fingernails into his palms. Thinks about all the kids at the Driftwood who caused too much trouble, and were “adopted”: never to be seen again. Thinks about slinking around the docks and staying near crowds so the zhelezo can’t use him as a scapegoat. He’s been one step ahead of a world that doesn’t want him his whole life. Fjord tries to convince himself that this threat is nothing new.

He’s also aware that you can only run for so long. Death only has to catch him once.

“Are you—are you going to kill us?” Fjord asks.

Captain Vandran stands up. Fjord’s heart leaps into his throat. The man makes his way around his desk without breaking eye contact. He stops in front of Fjord. Fjord can’t take his eyes off of him. He feels the same kind of shame that wells up in him when he’d be singled out for games of playing hero, when Fjord was always picked to play the monster the other children would kill. The kind of shame that can still bring tears to his eyes if he lets it. He won’t give anyone the satisfaction of making him cry ever again.

Captain Vandran stares at Fjord. Fjord balls his hands into fists. He’s tall, but he doesn’t have the same kind of muscle as working men. He can’t win this fight, but he’s going to give it his all.

Captain Vandran glances again to his quartermaster. The corner of his mouth curls upwards. One of his teeth is gold-capped.

“It’s a nice day. I’d hate to ruin it with some killing. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Dhelir?”

“Aye,” the quartermaster says, “bad luck to do something like that, with the weather as it is.”

“So Mr. Fjord. And Mr. Stone,” Captain Vandran says, “I’m not going to kill you. Not today, at least. While the weather, and my patience, still holds.”

Sabian sighs in relief. It comes out as a whine. Fjord keeps his eyes locked on the captain. There’s going to be a but, he knows it. The captain watches him right back.

“Get them some food. They look like they haven’t eaten in weeks,” Captain Vandran orders, “and then find them some work.”

Captain Vandran leans back, breaking away from Fjord. Fjord keeps his fists tight to keep from shaking. His chest aches like he ran a marathon, and he’s lightheaded with relief.

“Thank you,” Fjord hears himself say. Sabian has the sense to find his tongue again and blurts out a thank you as well. This has to be a trick. There’s no way this isn’t a trap of some sort.

Fjord can’t tell when the hammer is going to drop. But for now, he’s alive.

“Don’t make me regret it,” the captain orders.

[calamitys-child]

Flint is Highwayman by the Highwaymen and Madi is Highwomen by the Highwomen but unfortunately Silver is The Pilgrim by Kris Kristofferson