Epic Adventure - Tumblr Posts
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰
First Raid: British Isles... I played my song directly at the filming location, so the acoustic is directly from where the scenes take place, where I layered my song underneath. 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝: In the year 793, the famous raid on the monastery in Lindisfarne occurred. The idea that an envoy from Northumbria traveled to Mercia to inform King Offa about the raid is not historically documented but originates from my imagination. I introduced this fictional plot to develop a storyline...
Music:
Song 1: Simoke - Vikings Cinematics
Song 2: "A Young Viking Heart" by Ian McCloud
The Discovery of America
This short film reflects my interpretation of how the character Leif Eriksson is introduced in the series Vikings: Valhalla. The real Leif Eriksson was the first European to discover America. The film is based on my script for Vikings: Valhalla, and I decided to film the scene myself because I found it more exciting to visualize it rather than just write about it. Okay, I'll write a short introduction:
100 years after the events of Vikings, a new epic journey begins for the descendants of Floki, Ragnar, Lagertha, and all the others. An adventure that starts with the discovery of America by the son of Erik the Red.'
I’m happy I can find Atlantis appreciation here! I always loved it. I’m pretty sure I still have my Kida and Milo barbies somewhere around here...
And, I know not everyone is crazy about the current trend of live-action Disney remakes, but can you imagine how epic a live-action Atlantis would be?! Just putting that out there...
i don’t understand why atlantis isn’t more popular of a movie
i mean
amazing and unique art style
spot-on humor
strong, badass female and/or POC characters
awkward but incredibly intelligent lead that isn’t conventionally attractive
COOKIE
history jokes that you won’t catch as a kid
MOTHER
FUCKING
WILHELMINA BERTHA PACKARD
did i mention
BADASS AF FEMALE CHARACTERS
AND MULTIPLE POC CHARACTERS
WHO BREAK STEREOTYPES LEFT AND RIGHT
i just have a lot of feelings about atlantis and i think it needs more love than it gets
Jerome hmmed. “You excited?” Buckling his bag closed again, he shoved long, greasy strands of hair out of his face.
“I would certainly rather be anywhere but here.” Dunn adjusted the tail of his own dark hair, realizing it had gotten loose when he’d broken into a run. “But I do need to apologize to Willow in person.” He sighed. “That’s going to be a task, for sure.” He would’ve offered Jerome the opportunity for a hot bath before he left, but he knew the man would refuse. He couldn’t help but smile at the idea of apologizing to Willow, though. They’d been in the temple together since they were children. They’d been lovers half their lives. He wasn’t always the best at making her feel appreciated, but he did love her with every fiber of his being, and he would find a way to make it up to her.
“Why?” Jerome asked.
“You’ve seen her,” Dunn pointed out. “I bet she’s been pissed every time you give her mail.”
Jerome laughed. “That she has! Though I’m not sure if she’s pissed about receiving your letters or if it’s the baby.”
“Baby?” Dunn asked. Confused, he stared at Jerome.
Jerome stared at him in return for a long moment. “She’s about ready to burst, looks like. I don’t know how you two are going to hide a baby at the clinic, though.”
“What?” Dunn asked.
“What do you mean what?” Jerome asked, grabbing Dunn’s shoulder as he stepped closer in concern. “Did you… not know?”
“Demons!” someone in the camp shouted.
Frozen as he tried to process Jerome’s news, Dunn stared at him. Willow’s pregnant? But…
Jerome shoved him. “Dunn!” he shouted.
Blinking back to reality, Dunn focused on Jerome, “What?”
“Demons!” Jerome shouted, shaking Dunn’s shoulders.
All around them, the camp had come to life, soldiers grabbing gear and running toward the horde. A rustling of leathery wings rose above the din. That sound was like ice water dumped over his soul, bringing him back to reality.
read the rest on Tapas!
*Two reincarnations and an isekai walk into a bar--
The only one happy to be there is the isekai because he's ready to quit this whole world-saving thing. One reincarnation doesn't like alcohol and the other is trying to get them OUT of the bar because the world need saving.
*not a real situation from the book, but whatever. got your attention, right? ;)
Join Solace, Reed, and Gwenivar on their journey to save Mythiric from the demon god!
What happened to the miasma?
He looked left and was greeted by more flowers and bushes he’d only seen in books. He could see more trees in the distance. They were so far away they looked tiny. He’d never been able to see that far before; the miasma was always too thick. "Where's—" He stopped as the name escaped his memory. Someone who should've been beside him was not. Now that he thought about it, there wasn't much he remembered besides the fight with those wraiths.
Swaying with fatigue, sweat on his brow, he turned his face to the light. The wind shook the leaves of the trees and turned the grass on the hill in waves. Destination chosen, he started toward them. He just needed to cross through the flowerbed of large clovers. He didn't recognize this specific plant from any book.
He stepped into the clover.
No solid ground met him.
Plunging shin-deep into the shockingly cold water, he lost balance and toppled to his knees into the pond. The splash shook the water clovers. Water lapped around his waist, quickly soaking into the fancy coat he wore.
Water? There's water just lying around?
Initially startled by his abrupt entrance, large, multicolored creatures came close and circled him. "Fish," he identified in awe. Their calico lips nibbled at his clothes and silver hair as it floated on the surface around him, crowding each other eagerly. Chuckling softly, he sat back and looked up at the sky again. He'd never seen that color blue before. He only remembered an endless pitch night and air that tasted like suffering. There had been no free-standing water in the world he remembered. All of it was created by magic and stored in buckets. It grew scummy within hours, collecting dust from the wind and a sulfur scent from the miasma.
Is this what comes after?
“She would’ve loved this…” he said sadly. He knew he missed her even if he couldn’t quite remember her.
"Oh no!" a woman said behind him, breaking his thoughts. She continued in exasperation as she hurried over, "Who put you out here? You're filthy now! I'll have the hide of whoever did this!" The woman’s voice made him flinch. He was about to turn around when hands hooked under his arms.
find out what happens next on Tapas!
Chapter 16 and Reed STILL hasn't learned not to ask "Can anything else go wrong today?"
sweaty, it can be a minute before midnight and there's still plenty of time for shit to hit the fan.
"What did it look like before you cleaned?" he asked.
Reed went to the windows. They were dusty and undisturbed.
"Well… His Highness's hairpin was on the floor. But that's it," Marigold said. She pulled her apron between her hands, starting to get nervous with Patrick and Reed’s serious tone.
"Hard to make a mess when he's the only thing in here," Patrick admitted as he turned slowly, looking around the room as well. “Has anyone else been to see him this morning?”
“No. Everyone’s busy getting ready for dinner tonight,” Marigold said.
“How long was he alone in here?” Patrick asked, pulling out a notebook to start writing her answers.
“Eh…” she shifted nervously. “We’ve left him alone before. Why is it suddenly a problem?”
Reed knelt to look at the floor. Patrick was a good investigator, but some things he just wasn’t going to think to look for. Although Reed wasn't sure what he was looking for either. Circles of salt? Candle wax? Mythiric was a world that had a rich history of magic and swords that could cut stone, but all that was in the past. They’d lost the knowledge about two thousand years prior when the first queen of Durshand had purged the corrupt priests of some demon religion. His history lessons had been over five years ago and his disappointment that he couldn’t sling fireballs or summon monsters as pets had caused him to lose interest.
“It’s not a problem,” Patrick assured. “We’re just… looking into something.”
Marigold fidgeted. "Reed? What are you doing?"
"I'd say it was witchcraft, but y'all ain't got that here." He got up, dusting his hands and pants. Ten years he'd been in this world, and all that time he'd thought soullessness was just this low-technology world's way of describing birth defects. Boy, was I wrong… Apparently, inert lumps of flesh can spontaneously become complete assholes.
"What?"
"Never mind," Reed said in English, then waved it off. Correcting to Durrish, he asked, “Can you answer the question, Marigold?”
Find out what's happening on Tapas!
“Think about it. The Soulless Prince wakes up on Blessing Day, just before the crown competition announcement. Nyltia herself said Gwain was to be king. She’s been insisting Solace not be composted for seventeen years. Y’all’s goddess has been all over this mess from the start. Yet you’re denying that maybe she knew this shit was about to explode and gave us a weapon?”
Turning to look back at Reed, Captain Raccoon lifted both his brows to his hairline. “A Han lecturing a Dur on Nyltia’s faith? Now I’ve seen it all.”
Reed shook his head, lifting his hands out. Figuring he’d gotten as far as he was going to get on this, he stood. “Just tell everyone to stay indoors at night, no wild parties.”
Raccoon lifted his brows again, this time sarcastically. “You tell the Hans that.”
“Yeah. I know. They’re loud.” He waved his hand dismissively.
"What did it look like before you cleaned?" he asked.
Reed went to the windows. They were dusty and undisturbed.
"Well… His Highness's hairpin was on the floor. But that's it," Marigold said. She pulled her apron between her hands, starting to get nervous with Patrick and Reed’s serious tone.
"Hard to make a mess when he's the only thing in here," Patrick admitted as he turned slowly, looking around the room as well. “Has anyone else been to see him this morning?”
“No. Everyone’s busy getting ready for dinner tonight,” Marigold said.
“How long was he alone in here?” Patrick asked, pulling out a notebook to start writing her answers.
“Eh…” she shifted nervously. “We’ve left him alone before. Why is it suddenly a problem?”
Reed knelt to look at the floor. Patrick was a good investigator, but some things he just wasn’t going to think to look for. Although Reed wasn't sure what he was looking for either. Circles of salt? Candle wax? Mythiric was a world that had a rich history of magic and swords that could cut stone, but all that was in the past. They’d lost the knowledge about two thousand years prior when the first queen of Durshand had purged the corrupt priests of some demon religion. His history lessons had been over five years ago and his disappointment that he couldn’t sling fireballs or summon monsters as pets had caused him to lose interest.
“It’s not a problem,” Patrick assured. “We’re just… looking into something.”
Marigold fidgeted. "Reed? What are you doing?"
"I'd say it was witchcraft, but y'all ain't got that here." He got up, dusting his hands and pants. Ten years he'd been in this world, and all that time he'd thought soullessness was just this low-technology world's way of describing birth defects. Boy, was I wrong… Apparently, inert lumps of flesh can spontaneously become complete assholes.
"What?"
"Never mind," Reed said in English, then waved it off. Correcting to Durrish, he asked, “Can you answer the question, Marigold?”
Find out what's happening on Tapas!
"I'm not lying, Reed," Lorrie said firmly. "I saw his lips move. He spoke."
"Then let's see if he'll do it again?" Reed, the redheaded man, said jovially. Leaning down, he grasped Dunn beneath his arms and hoisted him out of the water.
Steadying Dunn on his feet, Reed grabbed his sleeves and waved unresisting arms at the woman as he said in a weird voice. "I'm coming to get you, Lorrie!"
Dunn snatched one arm free of the swordsman. "Do you mind?" He may have been weak and shaky, but this was too much. He scowled at the man over his shoulder.
Reed withdrew with an abruptness that left Dunn unbalanced.
Stumbling backward, Dunn landed on the pavers. That would probably bruise as well. Looking up at the three, he scowled. "Is this how people act here? Screaming and being rude?" Reed had backed away some distance, hand on his sword. The dark-haired man had partially drawn his, Lorrie hiding behind him.
Dunn shivered, teeth chattering and ruining what little dignity he had left.
The door to the building abruptly banged open. "What are you three doing to my son?" a woman shouted.
"Your Majesty." Reed hastily bowed, slapping his fist to his chest. "He spoke!"
"Sir Owen, do you think me a fool?" The woman was dressed in muted colors, but the fabric was thick and looked soft. For that matter, Dunn realized that his own clothes were made of material he'd never seen before. He fondled the end of his coat.
"Your Majesty," Reed bowed lower, "Please, ask him yourself."
"I will strip you of your commission!" the woman shouted, standing nearly on top of Dunn now. When she moved, he noticed two men had come out of the building behind her. A tall man with shoulder-length silver hair and an older man with a thick, well-trimmed beard. Both were dressed well. The woman was now stabbing her finger in Reed’s face. “I have heard nothing but bad things about you. Now I find you harassing my son? Unacceptable!”
Sighing and more than a little annoyed at the noise, Dunn grabbed her arm, tugging as firmly as he could. She stumbled, choked on her words, and slowly twisted her eyes down toward him.
He stared back at her. "Could you quit shrieking? I did speak to them, though I don't understand why that's such a big deal." Fully expecting more screaming, he released her hand and waited.
Suddenly dropping to her knees as if she'd had them stolen, she stared at him, tears overflowing her eyes. "Solace?" Her hands crept up. Dunn looked between them and her face nervously until she cupped his cheeks. "Solace, my son, did you… what did you just say?"
Concerned, he leaned away slightly. "Why are you crying?" Had he been too abrasive? Who was Solace?
Her fingers tightened. Suddenly, she sprung, landing on top of him. "You did speak! My baby! My son!" She burst into sobs. He stared at the sky, then Reed, as he was closest. Unfortunately, Reed made no move to help. He just looked uncomfortable and pale.
-SUBSCRIBE ON TAPAS FOR UPDATES!-
Ch18, Gwenivar gets inklings that Reed is more than he appears. Can she save him from the malicious machinations of the high nobility? Or is he destined to dangle?
Catch up with the action now!
"What did it look like before you cleaned?" he asked.
Reed went to the windows. They were dusty and undisturbed.
"Well… His Highness's hairpin was on the floor. But that's it," Marigold said. She pulled her apron between her hands, starting to get nervous with Patrick and Reed’s serious tone.
"Hard to make a mess when he's the only thing in here," Patrick admitted as he turned slowly, looking around the room as well. “Has anyone else been to see him this morning?”
“No. Everyone’s busy getting ready for dinner tonight,” Marigold said.
“How long was he alone in here?” Patrick asked, pulling out a notebook to start writing her answers.
“Eh…” she shifted nervously. “We’ve left him alone before. Why is it suddenly a problem?”
Reed knelt to look at the floor. Patrick was a good investigator, but some things he just wasn’t going to think to look for. Although Reed wasn't sure what he was looking for either. Circles of salt? Candle wax? Mythiric was a world that had a rich history of magic and swords that could cut stone, but all that was in the past. They’d lost the knowledge about two thousand years prior when the first queen of Durshand had purged the corrupt priests of some demon religion. His history lessons had been over five years ago and his disappointment that he couldn’t sling fireballs or summon monsters as pets had caused him to lose interest.
“It’s not a problem,” Patrick assured. “We’re just… looking into something.”
Marigold fidgeted. "Reed? What are you doing?"
"I'd say it was witchcraft, but y'all ain't got that here." He got up, dusting his hands and pants. Ten years he'd been in this world, and all that time he'd thought soullessness was just this low-technology world's way of describing birth defects. Boy, was I wrong… Apparently, inert lumps of flesh can spontaneously become complete assholes.
"What?"
"Never mind," Reed said in English, then waved it off. Correcting to Durrish, he asked, “Can you answer the question, Marigold?”
Find out what's happening on Tapas!
"What did it look like before you cleaned?" he asked.
Reed went to the windows. They were dusty and undisturbed.
"Well… His Highness's hairpin was on the floor. But that's it," Marigold said. She pulled her apron between her hands, starting to get nervous with Patrick and Reed’s serious tone.
"Hard to make a mess when he's the only thing in here," Patrick admitted as he turned slowly, looking around the room as well. “Has anyone else been to see him this morning?”
“No. Everyone’s busy getting ready for dinner tonight,” Marigold said.
“How long was he alone in here?” Patrick asked, pulling out a notebook to start writing her answers.
“Eh…” she shifted nervously. “We’ve left him alone before. Why is it suddenly a problem?”
Reed knelt to look at the floor. Patrick was a good investigator, but some things he just wasn’t going to think to look for. Although Reed wasn't sure what he was looking for either. Circles of salt? Candle wax? Mythiric was a world that had a rich history of magic and swords that could cut stone, but all that was in the past. They’d lost the knowledge about two thousand years prior when the first queen of Durshand had purged the corrupt priests of some demon religion. His history lessons had been over five years ago and his disappointment that he couldn’t sling fireballs or summon monsters as pets had caused him to lose interest.
“It’s not a problem,” Patrick assured. “We’re just… looking into something.”
Marigold fidgeted. "Reed? What are you doing?"
"I'd say it was witchcraft, but y'all ain't got that here." He got up, dusting his hands and pants. Ten years he'd been in this world, and all that time he'd thought soullessness was just this low-technology world's way of describing birth defects. Boy, was I wrong… Apparently, inert lumps of flesh can spontaneously become complete assholes.
"What?"
"Never mind," Reed said in English, then waved it off. Correcting to Durrish, he asked, “Can you answer the question, Marigold?”
Find out what's happening on Tapas!
A beleaguered wife must chaperone her husband and his best friend to keep them from destroying civilization in their quest to save the world.
"What did it look like before you cleaned?" he asked.
Reed went to the windows. They were dusty and undisturbed.
"Well… His Highness's hairpin was on the floor. But that's it," Marigold said. She pulled her apron between her hands, starting to get nervous with Patrick and Reed’s serious tone.
"Hard to make a mess when he's the only thing in here," Patrick admitted as he turned slowly, looking around the room as well. “Has anyone else been to see him this morning?”
“No. Everyone’s busy getting ready for dinner tonight,” Marigold said.
“How long was he alone in here?” Patrick asked, pulling out a notebook to start writing her answers.
“Eh…” she shifted nervously. “We’ve left him alone before. Why is it suddenly a problem?”
Reed knelt to look at the floor. Patrick was a good investigator, but some things he just wasn’t going to think to look for. Although Reed wasn't sure what he was looking for either. Circles of salt? Candle wax? Mythiric was a world that had a rich history of magic and swords that could cut stone, but all that was in the past. They’d lost the knowledge about two thousand years prior when the first queen of Durshand had purged the corrupt priests of some demon religion. His history lessons had been over five years ago and his disappointment that he couldn’t sling fireballs or summon monsters as pets had caused him to lose interest.
“It’s not a problem,” Patrick assured. “We’re just… looking into something.”
Marigold fidgeted. "Reed? What are you doing?"
"I'd say it was witchcraft, but y'all ain't got that here." He got up, dusting his hands and pants. Ten years he'd been in this world, and all that time he'd thought soullessness was just this low-technology world's way of describing birth defects. Boy, was I wrong… Apparently, inert lumps of flesh can spontaneously become complete assholes.
"What?"
"Never mind," Reed said in English, then waved it off. Correcting to Durrish, he asked, “Can you answer the question, Marigold?”
Find out what's happening on Tapas!