The Wandering Mind of the Wild @thehornedgodpan - Tumblr Blog

holdup holdon hold the frick UP

what the astounding fuck do u mean "right handed, left handed" isn't an objective reality? listen to me u fun living cunt. i will grind u into artisan herb butter. what the FUCK do u mean hand dominance it's a spectrum

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

*7 min after reading the literature* well shit. for real?

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

hey. HEY! why the FUCK didn't I know this sooner? "Cross-dominance, also known as mixed-handedness exists and i am delighted and furious. what do u mean writing with one hand while performing most tasks with the other was like, an option. a normal thing. a shared experience, really? all along???

thehornedgodpan

I did not know there was a word for it, so I just started using Demidexterous! Good to know there's an actual term!

#demidexterous #i love learning new things

Beauty

Beauty's dance, beauty's flow

Beauty more than you can know

Beauty’s beat, all fluid glow

Beauty dooming friend and foe

Beauty in a sunset, beauty in the sky

Beauty in the wind, and the clouds drifting by

Beauty in the sun, blazing fierce and high

Beauty in the dawn, days born as nights die

Beauty kind, beauty cruel

Turn a wise man to a fool

Beauty used as cunning tool

Beauty stops and starts a duel

Beauty of tree, beauty of stone

Beauty found in wind’s low moan

Beauty for which ships have flown

Beauty held by aging crone

Beauty lies beneath the skin

Beauty found in flashing grin

Beauty the heart holds for kin

Beauty held in just one twin

Beauty true, beauty’s lies

Beauty's lows, beauty’s highs

Beauty no face can disguise

Beauty found behind the eyes

Beauty is held in heart of heart

Beauty found in every part

Beauty told in works of art

Beauty tearing worlds apart

The greatest weapon ever made

More fatal still than any blade

Found in face and found in glade

Which countless lives has stayed

The thing that launched a thousand ships

That spears you even to the tips

That calls together parted lips

Which drives the slave and drives the whips

Beauty builds beside the sea

Turns the slave into the free

Is found in face and found in tree

And brings the warlord to the tea

Dance with beauty if you will

But remember to be wary still

Beauty brings you such a thrill

Beauty brings you to the kill

#poem #poetry #heavy thoughts #original poem #beauty #the nature of beauty #I started this poem like 3 months ago

prompt-heaven

a list of 100+ buildings to put in your fantasy town

academy

adventurer's guild

alchemist

apiary

apothecary

aquarium

armory

art gallery

bakery

bank

barber

barracks

bathhouse

blacksmith

boathouse

book store

bookbinder

botanical garden

brothel

butcher

carpenter

cartographer

casino

castle

cobbler

coffee shop

council chamber

court house

crypt for the noble family

The Lines of your Mask

You sit there on the low couch

As we watch this show

A story I’ve read a thousand times before

And I turn to watch you, as the story goes on

And wonder how much of you I really know

And how much I knew is now gone

I watch as you laugh and you smile

And there’s an itch in my fingers, an itch in my mind

Seeing you happy gives me some hope

That with my help it reaches your heart

I itch to ask the questions, to go and trace the lines

To see what’s a mask, and what’s hidden behind

You laugh and you smile, all words and all air

And I’m wondering wondering and my hand’s in my hair

And I don’t know how to say it, how to ask you for truth

To know if you’re hurting, what lies at the root

And I watch and I wonder, all hollow words too

Do you see my mask, is it hidden from view?

I don’t know the answer, can’t find the words

So I sit and I smile, and and sing a new verse

Sing us at peace, all easy and free

I know this isn’t you, do you know it’s not me?

I’m scared to the bone to ask how you feel

How much is indulgence, how much of it’s real?

I know you have lost, and been left all alone

I know that it’s simpler to stay all unknown

But you reach out sometimes, and I can’t help but see

Something in you that looks a whole lot like me

So I’ll say what I can, all stutters and stumbles

And you can laugh if you’d like at all of the bumbles

Because I know that it’s easy to hide pain away

To push it back down, make it wait for a day

To take it and force it to serve as you will

But it can’t reach the hole you struggle to fill

And I stand there in silence, the words lost in my mind

And I’m scared that you know the world isn’t kind

In my mind I am braver, in my mind I can ask

What hurt you so deeply, why wear your mask?

I can trace all the lines, all the scars and the cracks

I can heal all the hurts, and fill what still lacks

I can promise forever, to stay by your side

But my words they stumble, my time I still bide

And I think you’re afraid that you’ll end up alone

In a hollow joy, a broken down throne

But I’m trying to tell you that you don’t have to fear

Because as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be right here

And the words they just stumble right out of my mind

That I’ll stay if you want me, your words are my bind

And I look at the fractures just under your mask

Next time just maybe I’ll have the courage to ask

I go for the night, say goodbye at the door

Say what I can, still want to say more

Give you a call, as I’m heading back home

Say clearer words now that I’ve had time to roam

Tell myself it’s enough, to reach under your mask

Tell myself that next time I’ll have the courage to ask

Is it enough, when I stand in the dark?

Just as broken, your pains so stark?

Is it enough to know that I care?

That I am your friend, that I will be there?

I’m filled with the questions, filled with the fears

I bite down the terror, bite down on the tears

Because that’s not what you need, my pain onto yours

When you’re seeking a friend, there with open doors

Open arms, open words, open promises too

Someone who loves you, somebody true

So I’ll stand in the dark, and I’ll tell you your truths

Speak of the beauty, show you the proof

Tell you you shaped me, made me a friend

Someone worth knowing, not scared of the end

Tell you that I owe you my every best part

That you have my friendship, that I’d give you my heart

That if you stood there empty, I’d pout into you

Leave myself hollow, if you needed me to

Because these questions unanswered still ring in my ears

Are you alright? Are you lost to your fears?

I can’t find the answer that I’m too scared to ask

That you’re lost there inside, it’s all just a mask

So I tell you the truth, show you my need

Remind you of friendship, get ready to bleed

Because I’ll give all to you, if broken you are

No challenge too great, no distance too far

I told you my friend, that you were my kin

So I’ll do what I must, commit any sin

Reach out no matter the cost

Just to guide you back home in case you are lost

So now as I sit here, rereading the words

That I might never tell you, for all that it hurts

I make a decision to try it again

To do something better, to be a true friend

And under my mind, I examine your mask

Preparing the questions I one day will ask

-------

I don't usually put a note at the end of these, but this was a heavy one, so I thought I'd say something. Usually my poems are about the world, about nature, about thinking too much about little things. This one is not. This is about my life, about people, about things that matter too much to be said. I hope that anyone who reads it enjoys. I hope it means something to you. If it does, please let me know! If not, I hope at least the style wasn't too terrible for you to enjoy reading it. If anyone actually reads these, it means a lot to me. I hope you enjoyed.

#poem #poetry #people #friendship #emotions #hurting #emotional masks #heavy thoughts #original poem #sometimes you can't find the words #long poem

charlataninred

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

meraarts

Might I add:

The defeat of the wizard who made people choose how they’d be to be executed

The woman who raised the changeling alongside her biological child

The human who died of radiation poisoning after repairing the spaceship

eater-of-hopes-and-dreams

The adventures of a space roomba

Cinderella finding Araura (and falling in love)

I don’t know a snappy description but the my nemesis cynthia story certainly lives in my head

blitzlowin

hilariously, these are almost all in my fic tag. so, a compiled list from the notes (and some extras):

The God of Arepo (graphic novel 1 / 2 / 3) (ebook)

The Monster of Sentan

The Witch’s Cat

Raise Both Children

Stabby the Roomba (honorable mention)

Cinderella Marries the Prince (comic)

My Arch Nemesis Cynthia

Pirates and Mermaid

Eindred and the Witch

The Demon King

The Cornerwitch

Grandmother Beetroot

Apocalypse Daycare Worker

Grandmother Accidentally Summons a Demon

New Year Saga

A Story About Changelings

Ranger in the King’s Forest

The Difference Between a Hare and a Rabbit

Goblin Men (Canines)

charlataninred

I am in love with you /p

the-thread-of-the-infinite

What about the one with the princess locked in a tower learning to become a wizard? That’s lived in my mind for years and I haven’t seen it in a long time

death-of-the-endless

Oh, love that story, adding it to the list: 20. Princess Talia and adding a few more contenders 21. Thyme 22. The Monster under the Bed 23. A Meaningful Death 24. Humans are unstoppable…until they aren’t 25. The Monster under the Fridge 26. Antler Guy 27. Cleric slamming healing spells

death-of-the-endless

Adding a few more I remembered: 28. The Frog and the Scorpion 29. HSTHETE 30. The First Witch in the World 31. Imagine that Oceans were replaced by Forests 32. A Faerie taking a Name 33. The Dragon on the Farm 34. Synovus & Menace 35. Raising the Anti-Christ 36. Aliens vs. Flora & Fauna of Earth (pretty sure there are even more additions to the original post but I had this one saved) 37. Doctors without Borders…in Space! 38. The Villain-Wrangler 39. The Last Contact 40. The 100 Parent-Point Children 41. And the Heavens Wept 42. The Night Gentleman 43. The Serpent God and their Priestess

knottahooker

44. No One Showed Up for the Last Storytime

adamskiiii

Wow! @writing-prompt-s contributing to like half of these!

writing-prompt-s

I can hardly take any credit for these stories! But I love sharing them. Unfortunately I cannot read all the prompt responses so please tag me if you want me to reblog a story that resonated with you so I can give it a little boost :)

thehornedgodpan

These stories are what got me on Tumblr, and I each one just seems to strike something in me, so definitely worth reading.

slightly-awkward-sunshine

‘God of Arepo’ Fan-made graphic novel part three (End)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Read the Original Story Here

Stardust

We are all of us stardust wrought.

The flame of stars sings in our blood, the weight of stars hums in our bones.

We are born of stardust and fire and in each of us is a universe blazing

We are stardust wrought.

Our blood sings with the flame of stars, sings life and heat and death and destruction, so vivid and fierce are we.

Fire is our blood, the flame of life, the flame which lights the torches, drives out the night, brings warmth to the cold and food to the hungry.

Fire is our blood, the flame of death, the flame which scorches the deserts, dries the lakes, burns forest and flesh alike.

Fire is our blood, the flame of stars which stand stark against the void, which burn across the cosmos and who linger long past death.

Our bones hum with stardust and are wrought with the trimmings of a universe, all blazing stone and shining dust.

In our bones lingers the old weight of stars, the weight of watching a universe turn, of seeing day and night and age upon age beyond counting.

In our bones sings the memory of stars long passed, powers of a sky beyond all knowing bound in human form, unable to forget what it was to be more.

In our bones is the ache of divinity lost, of grandeur brought low, of stars who burn no more, of a sky black and cold and forgotten.

We are born of stars, born of flames and light and the weight that bears worlds beyond all count.

We are more than flesh and blood, than dust and flame, than shadows of the forgotten.

We are born of stars, and to stars we return. In us waits a star unleashed, the power that wrought the sky and shaped all things.

We are born of stars, in our blood and bones. To remember what we were, to become it again, is our doom and our gift.

We are stars.

Watch us burn.

#magic #stars #poetry #poem #stardust #bones of stardust #stardust wrought #made of stardust #made of stars #heavy thoughts

The Prince and the Horsemaster's Daughter

This is a tale of times long past, a world that lives on now only in stories. This is a tale of magic and wonder and the beauty of things, of the running grasses and the wandering sky and the drumming of hooves. This is a tale of the land of Aeren, the town of Namen, the people who ruled it, and the quiet folks who lived on a field some miles out of town. Let us begin.

Namen was not a place that lords often visited. It was a quiet town, far away from any borders or major roads. In fact, the only reason Namen could call itself a town was because it found itself near an old stone tower and an older lake. The tower was worth noting because it had once been the hall of a family who were now the rulers of Aeren, though none of their bloodline had returned in many lifetimes. The lake was worth noting because it provided a source of fish, a rarity in the area. People in Namen tended to give more thought to the lake than the tower.

Namen was also noteworthy for one other reason, though this one was far too new and far too quiet for people to think much about. A little ways away from the town of Namen lived a lonely old man and his daughter. The man was not particularly old, but he was not young, and had never argued with the name. His daughter was young, but people didn’t know enough about her to say much else. The man was quiet and came into town only when he needed to, and the daughter was wild and carefree and came even less, and they were worth noting because they raised the best horses anyone had ever seen. Horses were their life, and they bred them and raised them and trained them and sold them. The horses were famous across all of Aeren, and once a year the man would ride out with a band of new-trained horses, traveling to the halls of merchants and lords to sell, and return some months later looking much older and a little happier.

As has been said, Namen was not a place that lords often visited. The man would ride out with his horses, and would always find the proper customers, so there was no need for them to come riding out to a little town known for an empty old tower and a lake full of fish. Thus, it was a shock to all parties when a party of the greatest nobles in the realm came to see the Horsemaster. Among them rode the Duke of Veer, who was the brother of the King, as well as Lord Ungel, who by right ruled the town, and most impressively of all Prince Anyan, who was the third son of the King and was famous for his riding skills, though he was only 14. They had come for more than horses, saying they wanted to tour a little visited part of the realm and to repair the old tower so the royal family could teach their younglings to rule, but everyone knew the real reason was the horses. ‘The greatest in the realm, enough to draw the eye of royalty’ the townsfolk whispered once the lords rode past. They watched and they wondered, for nobody visited the home of the Horsemaster and he had not bent that rule for anyone in over two decades. But who can deny royalty?

It was over two months that the procession of lords waited before visiting, as they met with townsfolk and watched the fishing at the river and had their builders work to repair the old tower. But there was only so much delay they could muster, only so long they would wait before they rode out to see a weathered man about horses that ran like the wind. After two months, they came.

It was with a strained smile and a tired look that the Horsemaster bowed to the lords who had come seeking these rumored, legendary horses, ushering his daughter out into the field as he did. They looked around, amazed that such a renowned name lived in such a humble home. It had only three rooms, one central room, one for him, and one for his daughter. The Horsemaster’s only reply was an awkward laugh and a quick subject change. While the Horsemaster entertained the lords and discussed the horses, the young prince Anyan found himself wandering, utterly distracted by a mare running loose, hair as black as ink. Seeing the horse all but flying across the field, he laughed and gave chase. Any fool could tell that the prince would never be fast enough to catch any running horse, much less one as swift as this, but Prince Anyan was young and bold and chased for the joy of chasing, and the mare seemed content to keep the prince just out of reach.

On and on this went for hours, and ever the prince chased the mare, farther away and yet farther still, ‘till the sun began to sink and the shadows grew long and the prince found himself lost and alone on the grassy plain, the mare nowhere to be seen. Anyan turned, seeking the Horsemaster’s home or some other sign to find his way, but the plain was empty of any sign of home. Anyan cried out, near despair, lost and alone as night fell around him. He fell to his knees, crying out again, hoping against hope some searcher or passing wanderer might hear him and come to his aid, knowing that no one would. But to his shock, a fierce whinny and a girl’s cry of shock filled the air, and as he looked up he saw a girl on a dappled mare riding swiftly towards him.

Anyan rose then and cried out in joy as the rider drew to a stop beside him, looking up at the face of the Horsemaster’s daughter, all of 14 and riding bareback, a fierce look on her face and the wind in her hair. When Anyan thanked her for finding him, promising a reward fit for the proudest lord, she laughed and cried ‘What need have I of gold or jewels, when the horses I ride are the greatest treasures in all the world? What need do I have of lands and mansions, when I run free upon the plain and live beside it? What need have I of titles and honors, what use are they to the Horsemaster’s daughter who’s joy runs across the plains? Keep your gold and jewels, keep your lands and mansions, keep your titles and honors, and simply ride with me, if you must offer up some gift.’

The young prince nodded, though he had never met a person quite like the Horsemaster’s daughter, and she pulled him onto her horse and rode with him back to her home.The lords were overjoyed to see his return, and soon left with horses in hand. But the Horsemaster’s daughter he would always remember as a friend, and in the year and more they stayed as the tower was built and surveys held and fish enjoyed and country roamed, in every free moment they were together, riding across the plains with the wind in their hair and smiles on their faces. Even when the work was done and the great nobles moved away, each year Prince Anyan found some excuse to return, and spent all the time he could with the Horsemaster’s daughter.

This is how they grew up, the Prince and the Horsemaster’s daughter, the closest of friends. It was to her he ran when his father died, falling from the balcony one stormy night, never to see the sunrise. It was to him she went when the horse she had raised and rode and lived beside, the sister of her heart, fell defending her from a roving band of wolves. It was to her he ran when his brother, cold and proud and beautiful, raged and hated and hurt him and drove him from his home, and it was her, alone of all people in the realm, who turned that cruel and handsome prince from the gate and would not let him pass. It was to him she rode as fast as the wind the day her father, old and yet not old, weathered and tired all his days, quietly lay down and died, and he held her and told her that there was still life to live and a world to love. They were as close as friends could be, and they loved the wild plains and the running horse and the shifting sky and the flowing river, and they loved each other as only friends can.

For all that he was a Prince, and could have been a King, for all that she was the Horsemaster’s daughter, and became the Horsemaster herself, they were the closest of friends, for all of their days. It was for the life of the Horsemaster that he turned down the crown and lived beside the plain. It was for the joy of the Prince that she made sure to breed horses of the deepest black, fierce and wild. It was on the plains that they truly lived, and there they died, and we remember them in the drumming of hooves and the wind through the grass. For now the horses have run free, now the lake has gone dry, the tower has fallen down, Namen has crumbled to the dust and Aeren is lost beyond the sea. And yet we remember those two friends, and their names live on, and the story endures.

#original story #horse #medieval #short story #story #fiction #story telling #royalty #magic

Forget-Me-Not

Forget me not in summer days

When the shining sun spreads dancing rays

Forget me not, beneath the sky

Where butterflies dance and ravens cry

Forget me not, my love, my friend

Forget me not, and our time will never end

Forget me not in autumn skies

When sunlight falls and leaves layered lies

Forget me not, in colors red

While fallen leaves make earthen bed

Forget me not, who’s name I swore

Forget me not, and live peaceful evermore

Forget me not in winter nights

When burns the sky with dancing lights

Forget me not, beneath the snow

While laughing on the frozen flow

Forget me not, who holds my heart

Forget me not, and our joy shall never part

Forget me not in springtime’s bloom

When shines the day and falls the gloom

Forget me not, laying on the wooden berth

Where now I sleep beneath the earth

Forget me not, now gone so long

Forget me not, and sing ever our song

#poem #poetry #original poem #magic #death #mourning #seasons

The Nature of Trees

Bright the day, and bright the leaves

Standing firm, neath star-kissed eaves

Waiting, watching, are the trees

Remembering still the old stories

Old is oak, and firm its roots

Steady it is, and swift its shoots

Oak was there, when world began

And oak will see the world again

Ash is wise, its branches tall

Its power flows, the woodlands call

It rights the world, with simple might

Ash works to set the world aright

Elm is bold, its power clever

It twists the world, and loves you never

Elm stands upon the gates of death

And watches for your final breath

Willow wanders, and seeks to wind

Its windswept branches, it cannot bind

The restless world, beyond its ken

Willow bends low, to try again

Oak and Willow, Ash and Elm

See again the mortal realm

They are old, and know what’s true

And still they stand, waiting for you.

#poem #poetry #trees #tree poem #magic #original poem

Starlight's Grasp

A star, set against the arching sky

A light, shining to the heart’s lost cry

A gentle flame, guiding you home

A kindly light, to those ever more to roam

The last light on shadowed pathways

The first guidance from the dawn of days

In heavens above, the stars do blaze

With eldest word, with nameless phrase

A star does shine it’s kindly light

To guide you safely home tonight

Through hidden way, where none dare tread

Out of shadow, you are safely led

Wanderer lost by nameless sky

Meet the star that draws your eye

Follow it home, where'er may lead

A nightway map, you now shall read

Hear the song sung long ago

When light was new, and hope was low

The song of stars, of firstborn light

Of guiding hand, and not of might

For the place of stars, is not in war

But in singing still the ancient lore

And being kind, a guiding light

To bring them safely home this night

The sun may shine with holy fire

And upon the cruel unleash its ire

Blazing bright a newborn flame

Day by day, all still the same

The moon may laugh at mortal grasp

And may not answer what you ask

So cold it shines, so cruelly high

Watching, judging where you lie

But stars are kind, and will not burn

And changing move with season’s turn

When sun and moon should turn away

Remember stars shall kindly stay

#poetry #poem #stars #magic #original poem #wanderers

powerfulwizard

We need a word that’s like phallic but about being vaguely gnomelike instead of vaguely cocklike because I saw this fucking cliff bar stand today and....

powerfulwizard

thehornedgodpan

It's Gnomular

sociallyunacceptableart4

This was my art school’s water fountain. Drink from them wolf tiddies

mando-lore

Assignment misunderstood. I have now built a city.

mando-lore

Give it a day

thehornedgodpan

Generally takes a bit longer than that, from what I hear

pukicho

Saw beams of light in the sky. Investigating further.

thehornedgodpan

Don't worry Puki, it was just the neighborhood squirrels!

pukicho

Hey guys just had the most mid teryaki chicken of my life at the denver airport.

thehornedgodpan

Wait, Puki, you’re an airplane?

writing-prompt-s

The spell of the fae forced you to tell them your name. The fae looks at you with pure horror, while you look at them confused, because that was definitely not your name.

thehornedgodpan

Well, you've found yourself in a bit of a pickle. You're a modern mage, though most people just look at you like you're crazy. And to be fair, you are, but that's the concequences of standing against the elder powers of the world on a daily basis. Take today, for example. Your local park is home to a fayre ring, and some poor jogger found themselves passing through at the wrong time. So now you have to go into the realm of the fey to retrieve them. The only problem? This particular fey lord has been fueding with you for the past 3 months. They’ve tried every trick in the book to try and get your name, but so far you’ve managed to keep it. But today just really isn’t your day. The jogger broke a vase, and is now obligated to stay until the fey lord decides the debt is repaid. Which, really, could be a couple centuries. And are you gonna let that slide? Absolutely not. So you took the jogger and sent them out of the fey realm without paying their debt. Good news? Unless the jogger is stupid enough to come back, they’re free. Bad news? Now the fey lord has the right to demand compensation from you. And demand they do. You are bound to tell them your name, and you can’t get out of it. But when you speak, there’s an unusual reaction. Instead of your name, you spoke a word in the ancient language of the world. “Madjesty”, you said. And in a moment, you understand. You step towards the fey lord, a maniac’s grin on your face, and repeat the word. “Madjesty”. Power flows around you, building like never before. It’s like drinking music, breathing colors, hearing joy. It’s exhilerating. And the fey lord has nowhere to go. You advance, and a crown begins to form, made of fire and gold and wonder. “Madjesty” The last word the fey lord ever hears, as you go supernova. It killed you, of course. Nothing could survive being the madjesty and the wonder for long. But you hear rumors from the afterlife, that there’s still a crater in the fey realm where once madjesty walked and legend was born. It cheers you as you watch, even while that jogger finds their way into a vampire’s lair.

honey-wine-and-time

In fairy tales and fantasy, two types of people go in towers: princesses and wizards.

Princesses are placed there against their will or with the intention of ‘keeping them safe.’ This is very different from wizards, who seek out towers to hone their sorcery in solitude.

I would like a story where a princess is placed in an abandoned tower that used to belong to a wizard, and so she spends long years learning the craft of wizardry from the scraps left behind and becomes the most powerful magic wielder the world has seen in centuries, busts out of the tower and wreaks glorious, bloody vengeance on the fools that imprisoned her.

That would be my kind of story.

feynites

When Princess Talia was fourteen, her eldest sister was placed in a tower.

Princess Adina was eighteen by then, and so of a marriageable age. She had grown quite beautiful, though she was more willful than winsome, and she did not care for the notion of the tower very much at all. Their mother did her best to persuade her on the subject. After all, the queen herself had been eighteen when her own parents had sent her to live in that very same tower, to be safely tucked away until her husband could be chosen, and then ride out to claim her. A tradition going back ages and ages.

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