I finally broke 20,000 words on the Epic SPN fic of weirdness... I figured out how to do the scene about consent, at least a major part of it, and I should have a pretty slow day at work tomorrow, so I can jot scene outlines during my breaks.
In other news, the 'Four Vessels in a Car' fic is trying to take up residence in my brain.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ellen_fremedon lent me some books on the history of Iceland, and Byock's Viking Age Iceland is just fascinating reading. There's a science fiction idea ever few pages, just like in 1491: New Revelations of the Americas before Columbus. I think anyone who wants to do some fantasy/science fiction world-building should read them both, because they cover cultures that are very very different from the standard faux-medieval.
Also, have a snippet from the Vessel story, since it at least stands alone as a scene -- nothing else I've written in weeks does:
Warning, Work in Progess that might *never* get finished -- don't get too attached.
Sam looked out at the now familiar landscape -- the house of earth and stone, the endless meadows and the rough outbuildings. He couldn't imagine living his entire life in a place like this, isolated and almost bleak in its simplicity.
"Hello, Sam," Hrafn said as he walked up. He was dressed even more crazy bright than Sam and Dean let him get away with in reality -- pair of insanely checked trousers and a red shirt, with a blue embroidered cloak throw over his shoulders.
"Hey, you can see me," Sam said. Hrafn had never noticed him in these dreams before.
"You're a giant; you're hard to miss," Hrafn said dryly, but his eyes were warm.
"Hey, Raven," Gabriel waved, a lazy flick of his wrist.
"Stop wearing my face. You look effeminate," Hrafn complained.
"You Northmen and your beards. Don't you realize those things are itchy?" Gabriel rolled his eyes, and his entire form shimmered for a moment. A young woman with black eyes and black hair pinned around her head like a crown, wrapped in sari or something very like it, cocked her head. "This better, Raven?"
"'Raven'?" Sam asked.
"It is my name," Hrafn said.
"What did you think 'Hrafn' means? It doesn't even sound that different from English," Gabriel added.
"Aren't we speaking English?"
"No, the Danish tongue."
"It's not your dream, Sam. Why would it be in your language?"
"Uhm..." Sam thought for a moment, then turned to Hrafn, "It's nice to be able to understand you. It's really frustrating trying to talk to you when we're awake."
Hrafn snorted, "I'm the one who doesn't speak the tongue. At least you can talk to the other elves and giants."
Sam rolled his eyes. Not this argument again, "I am not a giant."
Hrafn's eyes flicked up and down Sam's body, pointing up just how much taller Sam was than he was. "Of course you're not."
In other news, the 'Four Vessels in a Car' fic is trying to take up residence in my brain.
ellen_fremedon lent me some books on the history of Iceland, and Byock's Viking Age Iceland is just fascinating reading. There's a science fiction idea ever few pages, just like in 1491: New Revelations of the Americas before Columbus. I think anyone who wants to do some fantasy/science fiction world-building should read them both, because they cover cultures that are very very different from the standard faux-medieval.Also, have a snippet from the Vessel story, since it at least stands alone as a scene -- nothing else I've written in weeks does:
Warning, Work in Progess that might *never* get finished -- don't get too attached.
**************
Sam looked out at the now familiar landscape -- the house of earth and stone, the endless meadows and the rough outbuildings. He couldn't imagine living his entire life in a place like this, isolated and almost bleak in its simplicity.
"Hello, Sam," Hrafn said as he walked up. He was dressed even more crazy bright than Sam and Dean let him get away with in reality -- pair of insanely checked trousers and a red shirt, with a blue embroidered cloak throw over his shoulders.
"Hey, you can see me," Sam said. Hrafn had never noticed him in these dreams before.
"You're a giant; you're hard to miss," Hrafn said dryly, but his eyes were warm.
"Hey, Raven," Gabriel waved, a lazy flick of his wrist.
"Stop wearing my face. You look effeminate," Hrafn complained.
"You Northmen and your beards. Don't you realize those things are itchy?" Gabriel rolled his eyes, and his entire form shimmered for a moment. A young woman with black eyes and black hair pinned around her head like a crown, wrapped in sari or something very like it, cocked her head. "This better, Raven?"
"'Raven'?" Sam asked.
"It is my name," Hrafn said.
"What did you think 'Hrafn' means? It doesn't even sound that different from English," Gabriel added.
"Aren't we speaking English?"
"No, the Danish tongue."
"It's not your dream, Sam. Why would it be in your language?"
"Uhm..." Sam thought for a moment, then turned to Hrafn, "It's nice to be able to understand you. It's really frustrating trying to talk to you when we're awake."
Hrafn snorted, "I'm the one who doesn't speak the tongue. At least you can talk to the other elves and giants."
Sam rolled his eyes. Not this argument again, "I am not a giant."
Hrafn's eyes flicked up and down Sam's body, pointing up just how much taller Sam was than he was. "Of course you're not."
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