#THANK YOU FOR ASKING QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS SCRIB

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

urg had other questions abt the truman au wowowowow

what abt eclipse? would there be an eclipse in this au ??? would he be trapped w sun or just as aware as moon???

ALSO, urrrmm are they separated in this au? Are they separated in the digital rendition and one body in the real world or the reverse of that??

After Sun escapes (if he does), how would he readjust to the real world? would he have conflict with moon after the fact?

sorry this au has got me in a CHOKEHOLD

BUDDY DON'T APOLOGIZE YOU'RE FEEDING MY BRAINROT AND I HEAVILY APPRECIATE IT

okay so I'm gonna be honest I haven't really fleshed out much of the details for this au (it kinda took a backseat in terms of development simply because no one was showing interest in it and my witch au was more compelling at the time), so I'm not too sure about an Eclipse. In terms of a combined Sun and Moon ai, that does exist (it only appears at the very end of the au, but it exists). There's also a possibility of their base functions that are fronting the body while these two are stuck in the mindscape gaining sentience and not being too happy about being forced back in, so take that as you will...

Sun and Moon do share a body within this au, with the two taking on separate forms within the mindscape, though they don't really stay in the same spot long enough to see each other properly. They mostly communicated through message exchange and an emotional frequency prior to events in the au, but the au basically starts with Moon already being infected, so they haven't talked in some time...

Sun doesn't escape for a good while-he's gone through a good many loops by that point and struggles with differentiating between reality and fiction. He experiences a lot of relapses where he's still convinced that he's in the mindscape, and sometimes his code mimics the functions inputted during that point, so that his thoughts are very jumbled and he can't really think straight. Moon can't really help him through this-how can he help when his mere image is the very source of the problem? If he tries to interfere, Sun becomes even more panicked and can't tell if it's the real Moon or what his brain replaced Moon with. It's extremely painful for Moon to watch knowing that he can't help or even be in the same room as his sibling without triggering a traumatic response. He usually excuses himself to go patrol (they get separate bodies after they reunite in the fire) and cycles through the daycare camera feed to keep an eye on Sun while giving him space. The only thing that really helps Sun is looking through his own programming and memory files to make sure that nothing's changed.

Moon also develops a severe fear of isolation and being alone-he gets antsy when Sun isn't with him, and often forgets that he and Sun aren't sharing a body anymore. He sometimes experiences this during patrols when it gets too quiet in his head-he always goes straight to the Daycare to make sure Sun's still there. Sun can't really snap him out of it, he just stays close and tries to talk about things to calm him down.

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt28

Part 27 here

———

Vivec: why did you make Wyrm so optimistic?

Sotha Sil: because I spent my life being pessimistic. He’s aware of the truth of our reality, and his endless joy allowed him to smile in the face of it… I want him to remain happy and carefree for as long as he can before the inevitable…

Vivec: …Is that why you made him so small too?…

Sotha Sil: …I made him, as he needs to be. *turns to walk away and freezes seeing Wyrm standing behind him* I-

Wyrm: why do I need to be- *gasps as he’s suddenly pulled out of the vision. The serene purple sky of the clockwork city giving way to the icy black stone of the midden, and the eerie blue glow of the augurs light*

Augur of Dunlain: Wyrm? My friend?

Wyrm: *rubs his eyes as a pounding headache seizes him for a moment before subsiding, his control over his connection to the heart slowly improving* it just keeps repeating the same thing over and over again… right as I ask him why he made me this way I get pushed out, like how he’d push me away from the heart, or out of nightmares. It feels different to when voryn does it… voryn feels like he’s pulling me into a hug, away from something dangerous but… it feels like Seht is, pushing me away somehow. In a direction?…

Augur of Dunlain: Perhaps he is afraid of you finding out the answer?… what could be so terrible about knowing what you were made for?

Wyrm: *groans leaning against the magicka pool* ughhhh I’m supposed to be asking you questions not the other way around! *pouts* but… If he made me as I need to be?… was, was it the malnutrition that kept me small?… or why my lungs are so weak?… or… *feels where his shoulder should be beneath his artificial, metal one* why am I missing my arm… my shoulder and part of my ribs?… or… *reaches up and taps his Pearl eye* why would he make me with only one?…

“Wyrm??? Where are you?”

Wyrm: crap! I’m not supposed to be down here! *jumps up tossing a sugar cookie into the pool* I’ll see you later!!! Thank you! *runs out of the door and up out of the midden*

Augur of Dunlain: …I wish I could tell you the truth… *sighs and engulfs the cookie*

*a few minutes later*

Wyrm: *climbs out of the midden and into the courtyard, dusting himself off of the snow from the trap door as he rushes out and immediately bumps head first into nerevar* oh! I-

Nerevar: there you are, hold still. *pulls a set of armoured robes out from his bag and holds it up to the smaller elf* this should do for now until I can get you to an actual blacksmith. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us and I want you protected.

Wyrm: *being adjusted this way and that by the Hortator as he loosely checks the fit* I- yes thank you- a-are you sure you and voryn want to tag along? Will voryn even be able to travel in-

Voryn: *suddenly crosses the bridge into the courtyard, dressed in dark mage robes, a chitin breastplate covering his chest and fitting nicely with the more ornate adornments of house dagoth, as well as the gigantic bell hammer strapped to his back* My ears are burning~ I believe I got everything we need for the first leg of the trip.

Nerevar: *chuckles* good, Wyrm was just fussing over your outfit options for battle and travel.

Wyrm: *puffs out his cheek a little at being teased* I-I just never thought about how uncomfortable travelling could be until I lived it and voryn doesn’t seem the sort to be dressed like well- this!

Voryn: *smiles and gently pats his hair* I’m a councillor and his confidant first. But I’m his lover and partner in battle as well. I fought along side him during the battle of red mountain, I’ve seen him in action just as much as he has I. I’ll be just fine little scrib.

Nerevar: *nods and grins* it’s a miracle I survived those battles. I was impossible to peel my eyes off of you~

Voryn: you’re lucky my eyes were more focused on keeping you alive then~ and speaking of keeping alive. Is this- really the best you could find?… *gestures to the robes*

Nerevar: We don’t exactly have a wide array of options here my love. Once we get to whiterun we can-

Enthir: no need. *walks over grabbing Wyrm by his arm leading him to the dorms* I got something better, but don’t ask how I got it or where it’s from. Got it?

Wyrm: *known Enthir long enough to just agree* okay.

Nerevar: Woah Woah Woah!!! Hold on a minute! What have you got?! Because the last two items you ‘had for him’ turned out to be two of three extremely dangerous weapons that corrupted him! *points to voryn* turned the people that killed me into gods!

Wyrm: sorry about tha-

Nerevar: shush it’s okay, and I had to use to bring down dagoth ur!

Voryn: sorry about tha-

Nerevar: darling we- HEY COME BACK HERE!

Enthir: *already walking inside with Wyrm in tow* I’m not stopping you from following me.

*a few minutes later*

Enthir: *holding a pair of trousers over the room divider Wyrms changing behind* these ones should fit you you’re around my size.

Wyrm: oh these look like the armour the lady in riften was wearing!

Nerevar: riften?

Enthir: lady?

Wyrm: yeah, she stole my eye and I woke up from a nightmare trying to cut her face off…

Voryn: oh yes I think I recall that one… I kept screaming ‘I’ve been poisoned’… was that when those vampires fed you skooma?

Wyrm: yes… it was horrible.

Enthir: *eyes wide just hearing about this himself for the first time* remind me to write to my contacts so, there’ll be less people out to hurt him or- worse.

Nerevar: I promise. Well do all we can to keep him safe.

Wyrm: *suddenly steps out dressed in thieves guild armour* my hair won’t fit under the hood.

Enthir: that’s okay you don’t need that. You look great just… try to avoid guards while wearing it. It should keep you out of trouble with more unsavoury figures though and help you sneak out of danger if needed.

Nerevar: that- that wouldn’t happen to be thie-

Voryn: *covers his mouth* shhh. You look great Wyrm.

Wyrm: *smiles back at them with a beaming grin*

*a few days later*

Urag: *wrapping Wyrms favourite cloak around him and fussing over his son* I packed your night clothes and spare comfortable clothes for you too and your lunch is in there as well as some snacks and don’t forget the ward scrolls in case-

Enthir: *gently rubs his back* Babe, he’ll be okay. *smiles at Wyrm then past him to the high elf waiting patiently at his side* take care of him for us.

Taliesin: *nods and bows his head* I will. You have my word.

Urag: … *steps forward and places his hand on his shoulder* Come home alive… bring my boy back safe.

Taliesin: I- Y-yes sir. He- we’ll, come home alive. I promise.

Urag: *nods before looking back to Wyrm in time for the small dunmer to leap up into his arms for a hug* stay safe, don’t wander into trouble you can’t get out of, okay?…

Wyrm: *nods* I will papa, I’ll be careful, I promise papa. *hugs him tighter* I’ll be home before you know it.

Urag: *hugs him back and holds him for just a moment more* good luck, son. *lets him go*

Wyrm: *smiles up at him before giving Enthir a hug as well* take care of him please…

Enthir: I will. *smiles hugging him back and letting him go* stay out of trouble.

Wyrm: I will! *takes Taliesins hand and waves back to them as they cross the bridge* I LOVE YOU!!

*a few minutes later*

Taliesin: *picks Wyrm up placing him on his back as they enter the village* gods I can’t wait to get out of this cold.

Wyrm: *gently places his hands over taliesins ears like a pair of ear muffs* I read morthal is humid and warm. I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable for you.

Taliesin: darling you’ve never felt humidity. Believe me it is not comfortable but anything is better than this c-constant assault of frigid air.

Wyrm: *giggles* yeah, it’s not for everyone. *glances at the jarls long house as Mirabelle steps out, dressed in the arch mages robes though still limping from her injuries sustained in the battle against ancano* hopefully things… warm up here in different ways while we’re gone. *looks ahead to see the group waiting by the horses near the inn* I just hope… we live to see it. *shivers as a gust of wind blows from around the inn, sending the tattered robes of a now dead thalmor agent adrift on the wind*

[ofmermaidstories]

Listen merms I am biased. I'm biased and I have no shame. Weeds as a person is fine, I like her fine, in fact i would love to go shopping with her or something, she reminds me of my best friend.

However, as a character I just find scribbles more engaging, the messiness is appealing to me, the conflict, it oozes into your soul and infects your mind, it prompts you to look inward.

Also there's an awesome sandwich place near my gramma's house called scribbles and my parents are farmers so the word association was rigged from the start.

Anyway considering your characters are a personification of you, I completely respect your choice to favoritism.

Also also this conversation sprouted an idea for the characterization of my reader insert of a potential fanfic so thanks for that <3 /srs

i enjoy that you just comparatively called your bestie just “fine” LOL. and also less enjoyed hearing Weeds is not engaging, LMAO. i get it, Weeds is more passive; Scribbles is by far the more popular Reader. Stories need characters that can push the narrative forward with their choices, and when you’re a hot mess, you’re going to make a lot of terrible choices that are great for drama.

but idk! this conversation has underlined to me that i will always have a soft spot for gentle leads. it’s not about writing like, personifications, because writing isn’t a neat 1:1 like that. writing is about taking inspiration from everything around you and then making it fit into the story you want to tell. so while Scribs might have some of my worse traits, exaggerated, we are not the same person by far. same with Weeds! i admire the qualities i’ve given Weeds but Weeds is not a copy of me. Weeds is just—the kind of gentle character i wanted to see interact with Bakugou, because i think he can handle it.

it’s the biggest question you can ask yourself, when writing: what do these characters need? everyone makes a big fuss out of characterisation but the thing is, it has to serve the world it’s in and the story it’s trying to tell. and generally when you’re faithful to that, everything else falls in place—so im sure your Reader will be great, Heathy. 🌾🌿

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

(for the reblog about answering asks in-character)

Lady Ravvy, what are your favourite tavern songs! <3

Link to the ask game!

Lady Ravvy? Oh! Such formality! You were the one doing fanart of me, eh? Well, as you people of this universe call it: I am fangirling! That was such a pretty piece! I will definitely frame it and put it in my house... If I had a house, that is. For now, it stays in my journal among the drawings that Inigo made of us💖

Also, you're really good at asking questions, because THIS IS AN AMAZING QUESTION, BY THE GODS!

I have to think long and hard about a "favourite of all time". Tavern songs exclude the Sea Shanties that I learnt from Hjaldir and his sailor friends, right? In that case, this makes my job of answering this easier by narrowing the list a little bit!

Look, I know in Skyrim *gestures hands dramatically* people are aaaaaall about "The Dragonborn comes" and those stupid civil war propaganda songs that got me in jail one time. I mean, how was I supposed to know that Winterhold roots for Ulfric? I apparently sang the wrong song and then they sent me to jail... The jail in Winterhold sucks. 1/10 wouldn't recommend. Ugh.... "Ragnar the Red" is pretty cool. I like the feminist message :D. Buuuuut, there's this little tavern song that Hjaldir used to sing for me called "Brave little scrib". I know, it's a paradox, because me and scribs don't usually get along that well? But the song is nice, and it reminds me if simpler times! Also, another one that I love is "Tavern Crawl". This is one of those songs that all bards know and always sing together at taverns! Thank you so much for the ask and for everything! Your constant support of me, even when I want to slap Miraak is something that I will always hold dear!

Author's note: well, she does run her mouth quite a lot, doesn't she? Anyway, the second song is a little headcanon of mine about how bards do the barding in the universe of "WYGTYA"! I have lots of headcanons like that and should probably put them all in one post hahah!

[yewphoric]

OC asks :3 7, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

HAI SPINCH!! hmm ok since i got 1 and 7 for jenais and ragnar already, i'll answer these forrrrrrr Hadrevan again!! bc they're in my brain at the moment hehe

7. favorite animal? why?

SCRIBS. Would it be any other animal than a scrib. They're too fucking adorable. Can't go to Morrowind without adopting a pet scrib!!!

are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

SOSOSOSOSO SO. SO. I draw them a lot with red, which is the primary color I associate with them. Red is associated with House Dagoth and is in general a very Morrowind/Nerevarine-y color to me, and it creates a lot of drama that definitely implicates the Sixth House in pieces with heavy red coloring >:3 BUUUUUT their outfit is black and green. Green being the second color I associate with them, but only loosely. Green, in my canon, is the color Nerevar wore. >:3 Listen I know House Indoril is mainly blue, but... Nerevar married into House Indoril, and the color symbolism that comes from Voryn and Nerevar wearing opposite colors is TOO GOOD to ignore!! So, green is another color I associate with Hadrevan, for their connection to Nerevar... hehrerhe I've actually been dying to talk about my color decisions with Hadrevan and Nerevar for a while, but I haven't posted anything with Nerevar wearing the green/his current design so I haven't had a chance BUT YOU ASKED SO THANK YOU

2. what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

This is a really good question because I have... no idea, actually. I feel like they might like classic rock or something. Or like... Radiohead. Idk. Those are the vibes I'm getting from them in a modern setting

3. weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

Shortswords! I often draw/write them with a steel wakizashi, mainly because that's one of the weapons I have while playing them in Morrowind, lmao. But, they prefer short swords for the flexibility and speed, as they're not super strong and wouldn't be able to wield a large sword. They prefer to be quick and leave room for them to dodge and stuff!

4. how crafty/resourceful are they?

They're not very intelligent, but they can be pretty crafty! They spent a lot of time in the wilderness rather than in cities, and the centuries of experience they have with that (at the time of Skyrim, at least) has honed them into being very well able to survive off the land.

5. how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

Oh, from the very beginning to the present, it's been more about aesthetics than practicality. Which is kinda funny, because you would expect someone like them to prioritize practicality, and they do to a degree! Nothing they wear is impractical, but they also prefer to look good. Which is why their outfit in early Morrowind had them mostly shirtless with only some armor covering their sword arm, and their late Morrowind outfit had them donning a whole ass cape for no other reason than to look badass as fuck.

[jayteacups]

for the oc ask game, 3, 7, b!

Hi Scribs thanks for the ask!

After a little deliberation about which OC(s) I wanted to talk about, because I'm still fleshing them and their lore out, I'll do Nüwa (AOT) and Shiori (CSM) for this one :)

B. What inspired you to create them? (Doing this one first bc it serves as a brief intro lol)

When watching AOT for the first time, there were a few questions I had regarding the society aspect of Paradis' worldbuilding - the politics, the reactions to and consequences of the first expedition to retake Wall Maria (aka when hundreds of thousands of civilians were culled to deal with the food shortage), hell, even the consequences of persecuting entire bloodlines... like a lot of those were just stated and then the story moved on quickly and I was like "?? Hold on, go back, what?" And from that, Nüwa - descended from a persecuted minority bloodline, aiming to uncover the Crown's secrets and bring change to the government - was born.

For Shiori, it was a little simpler than that. During the Katana Man arc of CSM, Makima mentions to the yakuza that she has somebody in Public Safety who could put back the eyes that had been removed from all of their loved ones. She could very well have been lying, knowing her, but it got me thinking if there was a kind of healer for the human devil hunters, since they can't drink blood to heal like the fiends and devils. So that was the first inspiration to create Shiori, who gives up her voice to contract with the Restoration Devil :) I need to figure out how to weave her into the main story and make sure she doesn't break canon tho lmao

3. How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

Nüwa likes to soak in a bath and then read to unwind before going to bed, maybe she'll have a nightcap as well if it's been a particularly long day.

Shiori likes to exercise in the evenings after she clocks off at work, so by bedtime she's pretty sleepy.

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Folk songs and friendly gatherings brings up a lot of nostalgia for Nüwa. Her parents ran a popular tavern Underground, where it was common for performers to come in and play a set of songs in the background whilst the customers ate and drank. She used to despise that feeling at first since it reminds her of the very rare happy memories she has of the Underground, but has come to accept it.

For Shiori, nothing beats food that reminds her of her parent's cooking. She doesn't live with them anymore because of work so she misses that comfort, sometimes.

Questions for OCs and their creators

[actuallyunreal]

Makes me wonder,what’s the situation with Bing n’ Larry in your AU? I know they’re clearly not doing anything important so you probably haven’t put much thought if any into it but I’m curious thus I’m asking

ahoy! thanks for the question - sometimes i dont know if anyone would be interested in certain details haha! TwT

so... uh i kind of went off so this is a really long, rambling answer TwT

the day to day of a londonite in the mattpocalypse is slightly different than a normal, seasonal zombie apocalypse.

the undead are a normal problem, one that takes many lives but is accepted socially as "acceptable losses"; so long as it doesn't interrupt the machine of capitalism, grim au society just keeps churning. the ultra-rich have bunkers, most people have weapons, and its a tragic response to endstage capitalism - plus zombies 8D

during the ~mattpocalypse~, the undead curse seems to spread through... many previous means. air, fungus, reviving the undead, bites, basically you can find any kind of zombie kicking around in the streets.

despite these differences, the zombies also do the necromancer's whims - usually this just means making more zombies, stealing food+clothes from survivors, but many even continue with their day-to-day jobs while under matt's thrall.

this means the zombies threaten the average citizen much more than normal - and sometimes just for matt's amusement. whoops!

that, plus tom's rampages and edd's, uh, heroics, mean that... yeah. civilians arent having a very good time!

and for once that includes bing, who - upon actually being threatened by zombies for the first time in a long time - is currently Nervous. and a little Paranoid. hed sequestered himself for a while before coming to the realization that the cause of the current situation comes back to... some dudes hed cloned a bunch of years ago.

he is now perfectly convinced that HE was specifically the cause of all of this, and that he is absolutely about to be hunted down and popped like a moldy orange; so he called a few old friends - well, the few surviving rejected clones that would actually answer his calls, at least.

redd works several jobs part-time, and rooms with axel (piercings in the picture), who works at a tattoo shop, and scribs, who exists possibly between dimensions and frequently disappears for months on end, and is unemployed as shit but sure does eat all of the food in the fucking fridge. he is borderline noncanonical.

redd kept in contact with larry and was the only clone lonely enough to answer the call. redd's had a very boring couple years, and they suffer from a lot of the same longing for the old days that the main boys are prone to.

axel wants to be a productive, normal member of society. its, uh, going.

larry has received an offer from a possible benefactor.

anyway bing is pretty sure it all comes back to him and hes the most important thing in the world (hint: hes not) and figures a couple of clones are a great replacement for his poor guard dogs (rip). he is possibly creating his own doom! :3

[nighttimescribbles]

Hi Scrib! Hope you’re doing well 🥰 I wanted to ask 6, 8, 11 and 14 for your deep write asks

feel free to exclude few, if they’re too many 😂

omo i didn't expect to get asked from that set! 😆 was rb-ing it for my writer moots as some of the questions are a bit too personal(?) for my taste 😅 all the same, thanks for the ask, Dass dearest. Will respond to a few! 🥰

6. what’s the hardest part of the writing process for you?

conceptualizing. orchestrating theme, plot, mood, characters, and motivations and getting them to work together. it's easier if it's a one-shot because i just have to figure out the punchline. but for longer fic or fic intended to be meaningful, conceptualizing can take quite some time and usually consists of letting yt autoplayer go wild while staring blanking into space 😆

8. does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone?

no, and noooooooooo. hahaha people do know i read and write for a living (though probably not in the way you imagine) and for a hobby, but they don't know what i write for a hobby nyehehehehehe >:))

11. Has a fic you’ve written ever caused issues/controversy?

nope! i thought a couple would, but so far i've been fortunate in that the works i felt uncertain about turned out to be the ones who led me to tumblr friends and mooties! 🥰

Thank you for asking!

deep fic writer asks

[ginger-bread-official]

Correspondence

Ficlet of a budding friendship between Tonks and Lupin in Harry’s 3rd year. Tonks trains near hogsmead and has found a companion in Remus Lupin. Dora returns home from a disastrous date too late to march up to the castle, but early enough the professor is able to answer her owl.

Pairing: Tonks/Lupin

Words: 1,378

She kicked off her shoes as she closed the door behind her. He definitely wasn’t worth putting on her sexiest heels. The aspiring ‘Actor’ was pretty, but nothing else. Not interesting, not smart and not worth her time. She was thankful that she was able to get out of there before too late. She undid her top knot and morphed her wavy blonde locks back to a pink pixie cut. Merlin that boy was dumb. She wasn’t a muggle, but she had some idea about how their world worked and she was pretty sure cars didn’t run on magnets. She poured her self a glass of wine. Maybe that was the problem, she hadn’t had enough alcohol to handle the boy. She sat in the window seat facing the castle. She thought back on the conversation they had.

“Well My parents wanted a girl.” He said as if she asked or cared, “But my dad only has one testicle you see, they thought it was the one that gets you a girl, but turns out it was the boy ball he had left.” It was at that point she asked for the check. She laughed at the ridiculous night she had and thought ahead to how Remus would react when she told him. She was sure he would get a kick out of the actor thinking that planes can only fly in the same direction as the wind.

“See that’s why some of them have the big fans on the wing.” She sat sipping her wine for a moment. She wasn’t an expert on muggle affairs, but she knew planes left at all times of the day and that they didn’t wait until it was ‘windy’. She chuckled, and took another sip of wine. She wasn’t sure what caused her to register it. Maybe the light had just turned on, or maybe she was thinking of him and her eyes naturally searched for it, but Tonks saw that the window to Remus’ tower office was alit. She smiled up at the castle thinking maybe she could go up and tell him about it. A quick check of her watch told her it was much too late for that. She would have to wait to hear his response. He was up though, probably grading papers or planning lessons like the prudent professor he was. Tonks watched the light for a few minutes wondering if he was actually awake doing work or if he had fallen asleep while grading. She laughed at the thought of him drooling on some fourth year’s homework. She decided to get an answer to her question. She called over her owl, putting aside her glass of wine and scribbing a quick note to the professor. She sent the bird off through the window, then turned her mind to the debate of changing into more comfortable clothes.

~

Remus Lupin was fighting the weight of his eyelids. He needed to finish grading these essays for tomorrow’s fifth year class. They were all working so hard to catch up to his rigorous lessons in preparation for their O.W.Ls. He needed to match their effort. But it was getting pretty late and he had a 6 am staff meeting. His head kept lolling jolting him back awake, but only for a minute or so until he would sink back into the temptations of sleep. He was in this endless cycle when he heard an incessant tapping. It had taken him an extra twenty seconds to register that the noise was coming from his window. Another 10 seconds to realize it was an owl. He rose from his desk and opened the window for the small tawny owl. He must have been exhausted, because he hadn’t realized it was Tonks’ owl until after he read the attached note. In her round scribe it said

‘You’re up late.' He huffed in amusement. Checking his watch he confirmed that she had only left for her date an hour ago. Knowing her boisterous persona he knew this meant the date had not gone well. He wrote his response below her writing and sent the owl back through the open window. Though it was dark and he couldn’t see the owl once it dove out of his tower, he imagined the flight it took to the town down below. He tired to discern her window from the other minuscule lights twinkling up from the village. Maybe next time she’s here he’ll ask which one is hers. With the cool air shocking his face, he felt a second wind brew up in him. He turned back to the essays and picked up reading Lee Jordans.

~

The leather pants were swapped out for flannel pajama bottoms and her white halter top was exchanged for a white tank. Tonks was sipping her wine and reading her book on the couch. The warm tingling sensation of the wine mixed with the warmth radiating from the fire in the mantle was acting as effectively as a calming draught. A tapping on the window broke her from her lull. She saw Artemis at the window pecking for entry. She opened the window and detached the parchment on his foot. He flew over to his perch and drank from his bottle awaiting further instruction as he preened his wings. She unrolled the parchment. Below her note was Remus’ sharp handwriting reading,

‘You’re home early.’ She laughed imagining the cheeky grin he would have had on his face when he wrote his response. She picked up her quill and wrote her response. Artemis landed on her shoulder as she rolled the parchment, extending his leg for its attachment. The owl nipped her ear affectionately as she attached the note. Tonks rubbed the top of his head earning a low hoot of appreciation. The owl set off and Tonks turned back to her book and wine with a soft smile still playing on her lips in response to the professors note.

~

Lee Jordan hadn’t really done his research on disillusionment charms and it showed in his essay. It was a shame to see him slip in his academics, but he refused to show up to Remus’ extra classes and was really dodging all of his attempts to help. Maybe he could get Fred and George to help bring the young man back to the supplemental classes. Remus felt the disturbance of air behind him before the owl flew into his peripherals. The owl hopped from the edge of his desk closer to him. Remus detached the note from his leg. The Professor rubbed he owls head as he read the note from Nymphadora.

‘The best part of the date was the end of it.’ He chuckled hearing Artemis hoot in appreciation to Lupin’s head rubs. ‘I’ll tell you about it when I see you next,’ the note went on, ‘Tomorrow?’ He felt a warm sensation pulse through him at the promise of tomorrow. He looked down to the small Tawny Owl, now with his eyes closed leaning into Remus’ hand as it rubbed circles in his feathers.

“Mind doing another trip for me?” He asked the owl that nipped his fingers affectionately.

~

Artemis flew through the window Tonks had left open waiting for the response form the professor. She read the now crowded parchment, feeling a laugh bubble up in her.

‘Sounds lovely. 7pm at Broomsticks? Will I be apologizing on behalf of all men?’ She looked down at the owl smiling

“You up for one more delivery.” He tilted his head in response.

~

Lupin hadn’t even fully settled back into his grading mindset when Artemis landed on his shoulder.

“Hello again.” The owl extended his leg dutifully.

‘Wouldn’t hurt.’ Was written on the back of their original parchment with, ‘Good night Professor.’ Below it. He smiled fondly at the note looking to her owl that had hopped down form his shoulder and was drinking from his now cold tea. He stood from his desk and walked back to the window wondering for the second time that night which one of the distant lights was hers. Unbeknownst to him the young auror was lost in thought down in the village looking back up at him.

[talldarkandroguesome]

7th of First Seed, Sundas

Nabine tells me that she is going to need to put on a bit of a performance in order to get Urtisa’s informants to believe that she is capable. Therefore, I am to become inebriated, be seduced by her, and have her steal something of value of mine.

All in all a very simple task. The issue is finding something that would be valuable to those she needs to impress, but also not something that Urtisa and her informants could potentially use against the House.

I had thought a signet ring or an official House seal, but those can be used for far too many nefarious purposes. I thought jewelry would be the most obvious sort of item though.

Going through what I had, we settled on a pendant which had the image of Almalexia on one side and the Indoril wings upon the other. Clearly a symbol that you are a high ranking member of the House, but not something that could be used by anyone for anything that might cause true damage.

So I went to the Temple to check on how things were coming with Kuna’s acceptance. So far they are still checking records, so I simply spent time, seemingly praying and meeting with others, before I headed out, under the pretense of frustration, to a small tavern between the Temple and home. It is a small place, mostly used for nobles to meet up with contacts outside of the main taverns further downtown. It has a quieter atmosphere, and rooms that can be rented for private negotiations. The owner even has a posted policy that she will not sell anyone the ability to eavesdrop on your private room, but she is not responsible should someone manage to do so anyhow. It is very difficult, given the way the place is set up, to overhear what is happening in another room. I would imagine you would have to plan far in advance to succeed.

With the stage set, I began to drink heavily. Nabine slipped inside not too long after I ordered my second bottle, but she kept to a table by the door and stayed to herself until after I had moved onto my third bottle.

I stood up to get the attention of the proprietor, and with a carefully placed choreography, tripped over my own chair leg, spilling the contents of my purse.

Nabine came over to help me gather the coins.

I looked up at her and told her how beautiful she was. It was not an act in that moment, for truly she remains the most beautiful woman I have ever met. She flirted back with me in a very feminine manner, not at all her usual self. I invited her to my table and bought her a bottle of rotmeth.

We spent a while talking, just loud enough to be heard by anyone else who might be in the place and looking to overhear. We spoke of little. In truth, most of it was me asking her questions about Valenwood and telling her how beautiful she was. By the time an hour of this had passed, we became more and more libidinous in our conversation, our chairs next to one another, our hands beginning to roam.

The barkeep asked if we would like to take our bottles to a private room and after looking to her and receiving a nod, I thanked the mer and asked for the finest room he had.

It was a simple enough set up: a fine carpet, a simple chandelier, and a pile of cushions. A small cabinet on the wall contained blankets and towels, with a basin and small pitcher of water atop. Just enough for whatever sort of business you might have to attend to.

Of course, we enjoyed the privacy and made sure to use the room well. I told her how much I enjoyed her playing a part with me.

She told me that she liked the sneaking around and putting on a part well enough, but that she did not like the fake submissive role. I told her that I did not find it attractive on her compared to her true personality and I saw a small amount of relief cross her face.

I kissed her and reassured her that, once Urtisa was taken care of, we would have little reason to ever have to put her into such a situation again, lest she decided she wanted to do it herself.

She smacked my rear and told me that she was going to give me a good punishment for being so cheeky with her and that I better not like it.

I told her that I could not make such a promise.

When the evening drew late, I gave her the pendant, kissed her, and told her I would meet her back at home later in the night. She told me it was better not to make a scene and to simply pretend I was so drunk I forgot all about the necklace. Then she left.

I laid down on the cushions once more and polished off the end of her rotmeth. I knew I would need to seem truly intoxicated, so I remained in the room, drinking and contemplating the best ways to kill my wife.

There was a rapping at the door and I closed my eyes, relaxed my body, and let my breaths become slow and even.

After several minutes, the door opened and I heard someone enter. They called out several times to me before I grumbled and muttered something about scrib jelly.

They left and soon two mer were there lifting me up and gently rousing me. They asked me for my identity and where I was staying and then called a carriage to come retrieve me and take me home.

Cheerz was waiting when the carriage arrived and had a couple of servants help me to walk inside and up to my room. Then someone with a healer’s background came to ensure I had not been poisoned or otherwise harmed in any way.

I also heard, though a while later, some argument between Cheerz and one of the Ordinators about how I should not have been left to my own devices. The Ordinator tried to assure Cheerz that Ordinators at the Temple were supposed to have taken over my watch and that she did not know how I had come to be unsupervised.

I should have been more careful about making sure to create a scene over bucking my guards at the Temple, but there is nothing for it now.

I stayed in bed and had the girls run in to wake me up. I feigned a minor hangover, but generally was excited to see them. Kuna had much to say about Dunmer history and says that she no longer wishes to be a princess, but rather, the next Mother Morrowind.

Already I could see that Nabine is going to want my head for this, but it was hard not to find joy in seeing your daughter take on such a strong role model. Rejecting the role of princess for that of a living god. One cannot say that Kuna is not a driven girl. She certainly has lofty expectations.

She asked me if she could have a blade like Hopesfire and take lessons to use it. I told her it would be up to her mother whether or not that was acceptable.

Nabine returned after the girls were in bed, but said that the rouse had been a shining success. They had sent someone to follow her and had seen how deftly she was able to seduce and manipulate me. They were impressed.

I told her that I was grateful and asked how much more time she thought they might need before we set our plans into motion. She told me she needed more time now that she had their trust, just to make sure that they did not turn suspicious. I agreed.

We talked about Kuna’s new future aspiration. Nabine was not pleased that Kuna had been taught about a religious figure, but said that at least it was a powerful woman and a god which Kuna looked to emulate.

I said I would talk to Mother about the lessons, but Nabine said that it would be best just to let them continue for now and that there would be time enough for comparative historical understanding later.

I slept well, still a little tipsy as Nabine and I laid down to sleep. And, with no morning obligations, since the Council is spending the day making their final determination about if I will become the direct heir to uncle Urnel or not, Nabine and I were able to sleep in a little bit. At least, we slept in until the girls came in to jump on us. Cariel has taken to climbing the bed posts and then dropping down from her feet into the bed. Kuna prefers a running leap. At least Cariel is still small, but Kuna is too big to do this without an elbow or a knee hitting a soft spot. I swear, I have bruises from every morning she has done it.

Today the whole family is going to go for a ride in the countryside. Nabine will have to make a short detour to meet up with a contact, but we have already set up ways for her to slip away and slip back undetected.

How wonderful it is to actually spend time with my family.

[blackaquokat]

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 6)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 5 !

A/N: This one is a little short, my apologies. And this is around the point I got stuck back during NaNoWriMo, so I can’t promise consistent updates from here on out, but I promise it’s not over yet.

The poem quoted at the end is called “Wild Duck” by Lola Ridge. It’s a lovely piece.

And I’m a horrible person, because I keep forgetting to credit @timelords-13 as my beta for this fic. Your help is greatly appreciated, my dear, and I apologize for falling off the wagon!

---

When you wake up, feeling strung out and dried of all the moisture in your body, you realize you’ve been tucked into your bed. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and see Yancy at the foot, legs crossed underneath him, reading the Sound and the Fury. 

“Have you been there all night?” you croak.

“Not a bad book, this one,” Yancy says.  “A little...boring, but the writing’s nice. Confusing--”

“It switches perspectives a lot,” you agree. You wipe the crust from your eyes. “You...why did…” You sit up, slowly. “You stayed down here with me?”

Yancy shrugs. “Youse asked me to.”

“No, I didn’t. Not really.”

Yancy looks sheepish. You’d dare say vulnerable. “Don’t push youse’s luck, we’ve got plans to make.”

His reminder pulls you further into the waking world. “I assumed you were joking, last night, when you said you had a plan.” You lean closer to him. “You were joking, right?”

“Does this look like the face of a joker, to you?” Yancy winks. “Listen, youse was right. This is big. I can only do so much to keep you safe if even the guards can be turned by this guy youse investigating. So, best bet?” He shuts the book dramatically and tosses it between the two of you. “I get you back on the outside, youse take down the guy trying to kill you, and I get no more assassinations I don’t order myself in here.”

You roll your eyes. This is mostly a cover to keep you from outwardly freaking out over the fact that Yancy just said he’d break you out of prison. “You are so lucky I’m off the clock. So where do we go from here?”

Yancy taps his fingers against his chin. “I need to get some...affairs in order. But we should be good to go by tonight.”

“So soon? You don’t need more time to plan?”

“Eagle, I know every single nook and cranny in this place. Getting out’ll be a piece of cake. Just gotta wait for nightfall again.”

You nod. “Enough time to...to say good-byes. Or, well, I imagine you don’t want me giving away the plan, so...I’ll be subtle.”

“Eh.” Yancy waves his hand dismissively. “I think some of them suspect. They’ll help you get ready, no worries.” He leans forward to whisper conspiratorially, “Might wanna give them a refresher on that library system youse trying to set up.”

---

It catches you off-guard, the realization that you aren’t going to get to hang out with Yancy’s group in this capacity ever again. (What does it say about you that you have no doubts that Yancy will get the two of you out without a hitch?) Here you are, standing with them in the yard, wondering how the hell you can cope with saying good-bye.

Oddly enough, they make it easier for you. Jimmy pulls you right in for a hug. “Yancy may not have wanted to see it, but we knew you wouldn’t stay here forever. Good luck on the outside, Eagle.”

You receive similar farewells from Sparkles, Shithole Hank, and Bam-Bam. Tiny, on the other hand tackles you hard into a much harder hug than Jimmy’s. “Don’t die out there, Eagle.”

“I’ll do my best, Tiny.” You hug her back. “Look, I’m going to get that volunteer program for the library set up as soon as possible. Every third Sunday won’t be enough to see all of you guys. You all better stay safe too, okay?”

And then, later, when you’re heading back to your cell, Rex passes by and nudges your arm gently with his club. “I’ll miss seeing you in that cell, Eagle. But I better not see you in there again, you hear?”

You can’t help but laugh, despite how serious he looks. “I hear you, Rex. I’ll try to get more poetry sent to you, okay?”

Rex turns away and strolls down the hall, but not before you hear him sniffling.

Yancy is waiting for you in the cell, on his top bunk. “You ready, Eagle?”

You suck in a breath and let it out, taking one last look around the cell. The one that was decorated after you started reading poetry to the inmates every night. 

This was very close to a home for a long time. You won’t forget that.

“Yeah, I think I’m ready.”

“Good.” Yancy pops up and holds up a long length of black cloth. “Now, before we do, I need you to put this on.”

“...I’d like to remind you of my trust issues--”

“Listen, Eagle, much as I like you, I don’t need anyone else knowin’ the way out of here. You think it’d be so good for peoples in here to be breakin’ out when they shouldn’t be breakin’ out? Didn’t think so, now put the blindfold on and we’ll get started.”

You take in a breath through your nose and take the blindfold from him. “It’s cute that you think I’d broadcast the path out of the prison.”

“I’d rather not take my chances, Eagle, now youse wanna be free or what?”

---

“And here we are!”

The blindfold drops from your face and you take a step back in utter astonishment. 

You’re outside. On the other side of the prison gate. The free side. Just yards away is the woods.

Yancy’s still inside, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. “Told ya I knew all the nooks and crannies, didn’t I? Oh, and uh, one other thing.” He flicks his hand and the photo of your mother suddenly appears between his fingers. “I took a little detour by the warden’s office for a ‘chat’ and thought I’d swipe this back for youse.”

So the warden is most likely dead, you think. I’ll need to work on my surprise when it pops up in the paper later.

Your thumb traces over your mom’s face. The lump in your throat grows and you try to clear it so you can speak again. “Thank you.” 

It doesn’t hit you until that moment. You’re out. You’re free. You’re not out of the woods (literally or figuratively), but this is a start. You can seriously get to work on your case and get your name cleared.

And yet...you can’t bring yourself to look away from Yancy.

When you don’t immediately run off, Yancy’s brow furrows. “Everythin’ alright, Eagle? Freedom is just a gander-on that way.” He points behind you. You can’t tell if you’re imagining the slight trembling in his hand or not.

“Yancy,” you start. You don’t know if you’re just stretching out this last moment together or if you’re honestly hoping he’ll accept the offer you’re about to make, but here you are. You can’t help but feel like if you don’t at least mention it, that you’ll regret it later. “Do you want me to look into your case? See if I can get you a parole hearing scheduled?”

You try to make it clear that this is his choice. That you aren’t presuming what he wants. That you aren’t coming from a place of pity. Lord knows this man has a big issue with pity and presumptions.

Yancy seems floored by your offer. But the next moment, he shakes his head. “I’d...nah, don’t do that. I’ve done bad things, Eagle. A lot of them. And...well, I belong here.” He gestures back at the prison. “This is home.” He doesn’t sound as sure as he normally does. “I...it is for now, I mean, I don’t...”

You nod your head slowly and pocket the picture. “Well...if you change your mind, or if parole comes up without my help and you decide to take it…my guest room is pretty cozy.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You’re offering the human equivalent of a semi-feral street cat a place to live and somehow you are not questioning your sanity at doing so. 

(The last person to live with you besides your mom was Damien, but those days are long past. Maybe...maybe it’d be nice to have a housemate again.)

Eventually, you look back up and, to your surprise, Yancy looks as if you just plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to him. 

How can I say good-bye to you? How can I just leave you here? I know it’s what you want, that you’re taking responsibility for your crimes, and it’s one of the reasons I think I--

No, no, cut that thought off at the roots, do not even let it linger--

“I’ll, erm…” Yancy clears his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, Eagle.” His hand rubs anxiously at the back of his neck. “Maybe when parole comes around, I’ll...maybe…” He shakes his head hard, then, and forces a grin. “Anyway, I better get back. Don’t get arrested again, and hey, don’t forget about visitation! Every third Sunday, Eagle, you hear?!”

“Yancy, wait--!” 

But he’s already faded back into the shadows. Back into the prison.

The gaping ache of regret in your chest threatens to swallow you whole. Out of nowhere, you remember Lola Ridge. 

So my soul...emptied of the known you...utterly... / Is yet vibrant with the cadence of the song / You might have been…

You swallow past the tumor in your throat. You force your hands to release the bars of the gate. One step back. Another. Another. Another. Until you manage to turn away and scurry into the woods.

The last line of that damn poem drops into your brain like a feather, but no less devastating than a comet crushing and burning you to ash.

A word that rattles well in emptiness: / Good-by.

---

Thank you for reading! Please reblog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

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[spectacled-renegade-writes]

SCP Sides: Deceit

Notes: JANUS WILL NOT BE IN THE MAIN STORY. I love my snake boy but I wrote this au a long time ago. Before the court room episode and before I knew him. My mental health has been better and my motivation to write is coming back... But I’ve run into a new problem. I no longer have the means that I did previously to write with. I typed this file on my phone as a little bonus to you all to let you know that I’m still here. But, I greatly dislike typing on my phone so I will not be doing chapters this way. My brain goes faster than my thumbs can type. I’m so sorry that the next chapter is taking so long but I hope you all enjoy this extra little thing and thank you all SO MUCH for your support.

Trigger Warnings: Lonliness, minor self loathing, and mentions of surgery (specifically to the vocal cords)

Summery: Deceit’s file.

Words: 762

Masterpost: Here

Ao3: Here

Item #: SCP-0203

Object Class: Euclid Keter

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-0203 is currently kept in a 5m x 5m room with an attached bathroom completed with shower and bathtub. The room contains a full sized bed with a nightstand, two (2) bookshelves containing books about philosophy, a TV with a DVD player, one (1) love seat, and a wardrobe. SCP-0203 may request new material provided it be reviewed beforehand. SCP-0203 is allowed to wear whatever wardrobe he may choose.

Video surveillance is required in SCP-0203's containment cell at all times however audio surveillance is strictly prohibited and as such, none of the surveillance cameras are to be equipped with audio functions.

SCP-0203 is NOT permitted to leave his containment cell.

Description: DO NOT LET YOURSELF HEAR SCP-0203'S VOICE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

SCP-0203 is a young male, aged 3 upon arrival, however ages like a regular human. SCP-0203 has been contained within the SCP organization for 14 years and is currently 17 years of age. SCP-0203 is 5’7” and 125lbs in weight. Subject has blond hair and heterocromia. SCP-0203’s left eye is brown and right eye is yellow. However, SCP-0203's most distinctive feature is the snake scales that adorn the right side of his face. It’s worth mentioning that the subject’s yellow eye is that of a snake’s eye.

SCP-0203 has the ability to influence the actions and thoughts of any living creature using his voice. The influence of his voice can be transmitted through audio equipment as well. SCP-0203 can determine the length of the influence. It can last from one second, up to the victim’s whole life.

SCP-0203 was found by an SCP personnel by accident while said personnel was off the clock. While personnel [Redacted] was walking her dog, SCP-0203 walked up to her at a crosswalk. When the personnel crouched to ask the SCP where his parents were and if he needed medical attention (due the SCP's facial anomaly), SCP-0203 demanded that the personnel give him her dog. The direct quote was as follows, “Why do you have my dog? Give it to me!” (It is worth mentioning that the dog in question was and is the property of the SCP personnel in this scenario.) The SCP personnel then genuinely believed that her dog belonged to SCP-0203 and as such, gave her dog to the subject. When personnel [Redacted] arrived home, she remembered that the dog belonged to her. Personnel [Redacted] called the agency about the incident and requested a team be sent out to collect the specimen. The SCP foundation was able to find SCP-0203 because the dog which he took had a tracker on its collar.

SCP-0203 has taken up sign language to communicate. Before learning sign language, the foundation brought in an expert lip reader to communicate with the SCP.

For the first five (5) years of SCP-0203's residence in the foundation, the SCP was completely unresponsive to any tests or instructions. Only after Incident-0203-A, did the SCP finally open up to personnel. SCP-0203 expressed loneliness and a growing loathing of his own abilities. He expressed that it was isolating and he just wanted a friend, one his own age.

Despite opening up, SCP-0203 has not reveled his past nor his real name. Personnel have began to refer to SCP-0203 as “Deceit". This nickname is NOT to be used in reference to the SCP in any official document. One previous mix-up was enough.

On multiple occasions, the SCP has requested the severing of his own vocal cords so that he may leave the facility. Request pending. Request denied. SCP-0203's facial anomalous properties are warrant to keep the SCP in the foundation even if procedure on vocal cords are executed.

Repeat request of procedure to sever SCP-0203’s vocal cords so that SCP may be acquainted with other SCP's. Request pending.

Incident-0203-A: Five (5) years after SCP-0203 arrived at the foundation, personnel began to grow desperate in response to SCP-0203's unresponsive behavior. In an act that was not approved by higher ups, personnel [Redacted] entered SCP-0203’s containment cell. Immediately upon entering, SCP-0203 instructed the personnel to take him out of the facility. Direct quote is as follows, “I don’t belong here. Take me out of this building.”

With the help from personnel [Redacted], SCP-0203 made it all the way to the entrance of the SCP facility before he was collected by MTF, whom was wearing proper noise canceling gear.

Following the containment breach, personnel [Redacted] was terminated, SCP-0203's class was changed from Euclid to Keter, and the locks on SCP-0203's containment cell was leveled up to O5 clearance only.

-

General Taglist:  @i-am-avacado @cdragontogacotar @rptheturk @grey-lysander

SCP Taglist:  @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @sunshine-goblin @world-class-izzy @cryingovermyfandoms @pattongirl @witch19 @sugarblob0 @khalyy0502 @michealawithana @krisdoesart @herestheanxietea

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[kagrenacs]

Dreaming...Fish Pond. Skipping stone.

“Like this?”

“No, curl your arm more, that’s it.”

[[MORE]]

With a flick of the wrist Nall released the smooth, grey stone. It skipped across the glassy surface of the fish pond two times, before falling to the murky depths below.

“It skipped twice this time! I bet you can’t do better!” The child grinned.

Sil smirked. “Oh yeah? Watch this.”

He flung the stone in his hand across the pond, hitting the surface three times before plunging. The Gourami Ide that resided in the pond scattered at the disturbance.

It was a sunny day in Ald Sotha, the warm rays of the sun beating down, though not unbearably. The children of the minor house were out playing in fields of Gold Kanet and ponds of fish.

“How did you do that?” Nall asked, mouth wide.

“I’ll show you again...”

Dreaming...Pottery Wheel. Laughter.

“What is that?” She laughed

Sil looked offended. “It’s clearly a guar!”

“More like a pile of Kagouti dung.”

“Children, hush.” Their grandmother said, her weathered hands shaping a lump of clay into a simple bowl. “These are important skills to know. Your father may teach you about politics, magic and history, but I can teach you the real useful things. How to make pots to store spices, the best ways to skin a fish, how to stitch up a hole. He forgets that there’s a life outside House business.” She glanced over to Sil’s deformed creation. “We’ll work on it.”

Dreaming...Torchbugs. Overturned jar.

The night was cool and the familiar chirp of crickets could be heard through the otherwise silent air.

Sil walked in, clutching a jar of glowing torchbugs.

“You’re sure this will keep the monsters away?” Nall asked, huddled under a pile of blankets.

“Absolutely. You see these torchbugs? They’re magic torchbugs.” He said.

“Are not.”

“Are too! I know more about magic than you do, trust me they’re magic torchbugs. And everybody knows magic torchbugs keep away the monsters under the bed. The monsters are scared of the light you see, so as long as you have this jar beside your bed they won’t bother you anymore.” He gently placed the jar on the nightstand beside her bed. A faint glow illuminated the room, chasing away shadows.

“Thank you Sil.” Nall said, relaxing a bit.

He smiled as he turned to leave. “Goodnight Nall.”

Dreaming...open window. Sunlight through glass.

“Theuda dear, will you pass me the needle and thread?”

“Of course mother.”

Nall sat with her grandmother, and mother, the afternoon was sunny, a perfect day to play outside with her cousins... had her mother not insist she worked on her studies.

She idly watched a spider slowly crawl across the sill of the open window.

“Nall, don’t get distracted.” She scolded, pulling a needle through a swatch of fabric.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the dull book.

It was not even a second later before she sprung up and turned to her mother again. “Is Sil coming home today?”

“Tomorrow.” Her mother corrected. “The road to Mournhold is long, and he must do his duties as arcane councilor to our Hortator.”

She let out a puff of frustration and rested her head on the table, watching the way the sun danced through the glass of the windowsill.

Dreaming...Deceased Bird. Handkerchief.

“Chirpy, beloved friend, cherished member of House Sotha.” Sil recited, the recently deceased bird swaddled in a handkerchief as his younger cousins encircled him.

“Gusuron na d’lain, comfort is given to the family grieving at the time.” He recited, gently lowering the bird to a makeshift ash pit. “Beloved of Chirpy, step forwards.

“Devahrokad, ash, Return to the ash you were born of.”

Udok and Serlyn stepped forward, towards the tiny body. Flames washed over the bird until nothing remained but ash.

“Walk through the Waiting Door and join the ancestors.” Sil finished.

Without a word Nall teary eyed, placed a bouquet of Gold Kanet on the pile of ash.

“I hope he’s happy with Grandata.” She whispered.

“I’m sure he is.” Sil said, pulling her in an embrace.

Dreaming...Scrib Jelly. A rainy day.

Nall sat by the window, a half eaten piece of toast coated with Scrib Jelly sat beside her. Rain pattered against the window sill, tiny droplets chasing trails down the glass.

“I’m bored!” She yelled to no one in particular. “I want to play outside!”

“You’ll catch a cold!” Her father smiled. “Besides there’s plenty to do inside.”

“Like what?”

“Well you could paint, you could read a book, you could play a board game with one of your cousins.”

“I don’t want to play with them. I’m mad at Sallaemu.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah he said I smelt worse than muck on a Guar.”

“What about Sil?”

“Hmm, I guess. He’s always busy though.”

“Well why don’t you go check and see.” Her father smiled kindly.

She walked into Sil’s room, not bothering to knock or announce her prescience, instead just flopping onto his bed with a groan.

“What is it Nall?” He asked, nose deep in a book at his desk.

“I’m bored!” She complained.

Sil turned to face her. “Do you want to see something cool?”

She raised her head. “What?”

Mechanical legs creaking, he got up and sat himself next to her on the bed. His hands were cupped and a faint squeaking came from them.

“Close your eyes.” He instructed. “Now hold your hands out. Ok, open your eyes.”

She obeyed and looked down at her hands. Within them rested a tiny mechanical mouse. It’s little wire legs squirmed in her grasp and it’s metal ears perked up.

“What is it?” She asked in wonder.

“I made it, it’s a creature made of clockwork.” He said, proudly. “You can keep that one, I’m planning on making more.”

Dreaming. Glowing Embers. Wool Blanket.

She sat curled before the fireplace in the main living space. It’s embers crackling in the dimming light. A wool blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold.

Her mother, two cups of tea in hands, sat down beside her, warming herself by the fire.

“Thank you.” Nall said, taking the Canis Root tea and leaning on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m tired.” She murmured.

“You can rest my little scrib.” Her mother said soothingly, stroking her hair until she drifted off.

Dreaming... One netch. Two netch.

“One netch, Two netch, purple netch, blue netch...” Her aunt sung to baby Mileitho.

He was named after his grandfather and it was easy to guess why, the resemblance was strong. Especially in the eyes, the same intelligent eyes her grandfather once had could be seen in both Mileitho and her brother.

Sil extended a finger to the child, who happily clenched his chubby little hand around it. Sil smiled, watching the baby look around with wide eyes.

“Do you want to hold him?” Her aunt asked with a smile. Nall eagerly nodded.

“Sit down and I’ll pass you the baby, make sure to support his head.”

The swaddled infant was placed in her arms, and she watched his face with wonder.

“He’s so small!” She remarked.

“You were that small once.” Sil pointed out. “You were uglier though.”

“That’s mean!” Nall said, sticking out her tongue and scrunching up her nose.

A cheerful giggle erupted from the child, his face lighting up with glee at the face his cousin was making.

“Let me try.” Sil said, leaning over her and making a face at the baby. More laughter erupted, filling the room with giggles.

Dreaming... Knee abrasion. Lullaby.

“There you are.” Her father said, finishing the healing spell. The cut on her knee repaired itself, leaving only but the faintest mark.

With rough, but gentle hands her father wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Don’t cry my dear, it’s all better now.”

She sniffed and nodded. “Thank you Ata.”

“You’re welcome my dear. Let’s get you tucked into bed, shall I sing the Brave Little Scrib for you?”

Dreaming...Familiar embrace. Moonlight.

“Sil?” She called out in the darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in.

“Mhmm?” He groaned sleepily.

“I had a nightmare and Ata isn’t back yet.”

He sighed and sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Come here.” He said, pulling her into an embrace. “You can sleep in my bed, I’ll grab some pillows and sleep on the floor.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

Dreaming... Storm clouds. Wind.

Her father gazed out the window at the horizon, the storm was overhead, rain beating down on the small village. Wind whipping the trees and stripping them of leaves.

“Mehrunes Dagon must have sent this storm himself.” He muttered, turning back to his task of sealing off the windows.

“Is it bad?” She asked, taking a peak out of the window before he closed the shutters.

“I’m afraid so, yes. I want you and Sil to stay away from the windows. These winds are so bad they can pick up branches and break windows.

“Do you think we angered the gods?” Nall said, following her father as he moved around the house, doing various tasks in preparation for the worst.

He raised an eyebrow. “A curious question. But I doubt it. We made all the proper offerings to the Good Daedra, and prayed for protection against the bad. Sometimes these things just happen. Now pass me that screw.”

Dreaming... Burning tapestry, screaming.

Fire. That was all she saw, crawling up the wooden walls, enveloping the tapestry that hung over the mantle piece.

Sil lay unconscious beside her, his left arm twisted at an unnatural angle. Pieces of the crumbling house trapping them together.

Somewhere, someone screamed. Maybe it was her.

A horrible cracking sound, as if wood was splitting, came from above her, and the ceiling started to bulge inwards.

“Azura. Please let it be over soon.” She begged, tears steaming down her soot stained face. She closed her eyes and waited for the end.

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

For the oc ask game!!! 😍😍😍 1. Class (or a general description of their skillset)

2. What was their childhood like? Who raised them? Do they have siblings?

3. Where did they grow up? A city? A village? Isolated, in the wilderness? What was it like to leave?

4. Do they pick a side in the Civil War?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how much do they hate the Thalmor? The Empire?

Five questions for the lovely Ravonna! 💖

Thank you so much for the ask dear! Also, if anyone sees this and likes Ravonna, you can check out my fic!

1. I like to think that Morrowind is the little magic corner of Tamriel, so basic magic is standard there. Everyone does it. However, Ravonna’s fascination with magic, her determination to get revenge and the fact that she’s a bit of an overachiever made her a master destruction mage. She does amazing in the other schools of magic as well. All of them except for healing. She thinks it’s pointless to fill her head with those spells when she can just buy healing potions. (she cannot do alchemy for the life of her). Of course this is going to bite her in the ass constantly. Good thing we have a certain Dragon Priest who used to be a healer ;). But don’t worry, he’s willing to share his knowledge later on. All I can say is that I can’t wait to write the scene, hehehe!

As for other skills, she thinks she is an amazing sneak. She is not. Seriously, she should stop. Getting detected by all of the draugr, giants, bears and guards isn’t very fun. She does decently with one handed weapons, all thanks to Teldryn. But she hates anything that is heavy and requires much strength. It’s enough that she walks and runs all over the place, refusing to take horses and put them into danger. Absolutely no two handed weapons and shields. She’s never used a shield in her life and would rather die than use a greatsword, or worse, an axe. She loves wearing enchanted fancy robes. She’s also a master in the art of speechcraft. 

2. She had a bit of an unusual childhood. She grew up in a tavern in the city of Blacklight. The tavern was big and very beautiful. She doesn’t really know anything about her roots (yet), just that her mother brought her to the tavern and dropping dead after making the innkeeper promise he’d take care of her. And he kept his promise. The innkeeper, Endryn, along with his brother Teldryn and the tavern’s bard, Hjaldir took care of her and raised her as if she was their own daughter. She learned a bit from each of them: being determined, ambitious and strong from Teldryn, being kind, friendly and always helping those in need from Endryn and having fun, singing, being witty, charismatic, playing every instrument and not taking anything too seriously from Hjaldir. Him and Ravonna formed a strong bond. Some say it’s because they were two nords in a land full of dunmer, others say it’s because their personalities are really similar and they complete each other. Some even say they look strangely similar. I made them both and I have proof! Here you go:

Anyway, her childhood was full of love. She quickly started singing at the tavern and making friends of all ages. She proved to be quite charming. Magnetic, even. Everyone wanted to listen to her songs and her tales. She’s had her fair share of adventure in Morrowind. First with Teldryn, and then with friends from the guild of mages. And of course, many, many shenanigans. She got everyone in and out of trouble.

3. As I said before, she grew up in Blacklight, which is one of the major cities in Morrowind. The ash storms weren’t very nice. Nor was the limited food. Or the scribs. Or any Morrowind creature for that matter. The truth is she never truly felt like she belonged there, but it was a place full of fascinating stories and fond memories. A place full of love. And it will always stay like that in her heart. Leaving was unexpectedly easy for her. She was at that point in her life where she wanted to see the world and travel. However, she didn’t want to leave the way she did: on a quest to destroy the Dark Brotherhood and those responsible for Endryn’s assassination.

4. She hates politics and doesn’t understand it. Every time someone asks her about politics, she says that she’s just a bard and doesn’t want to get involved in that stuff. She doesn’t even care about the civil war at first. She's just furious that they were going to execute her and Lucien, who she was travelling with at the time. But, as time passes and she gets comfortable in the land of Skyrim, it truly saddens her that the country is falling apart because of stupid, stubborn people. As for picking a side, she’d like to knock some sense into both sides.

5. She doesn’t hate the Empire, but boy does she wish they’d be a bit less stubborn (at least make levitation legal, for Gods’ sakes). She knows that the Empire is trying to keep everything in control and that the allegiance with the Thalmor is solely too keep the peace. Speaking of Thalmor, she absolutely hates them. Anyone that thinks they’re above all, is racist, exclusivist and elitist is on her list of people she strongly dislikes. The killing and torturing that the Thamor do makes her blood boil sometimes. It’s unfair and horrible and she hopes that karma will work her magic and they end up being treated as they treat everyone else.

Thank you again for the tag and sorry for the huge essay haha. I could talk about my ocs all day. This was really fun!

[iamvegorott]

Farm Life Ch 5

First Ride

“I’m going out for a ride,” Edgar stated as Bim was helping him clean up dinner.

“You have a motorcycle?” Bim asked, using the sponge to wash off his plate.

“I have horses.” Edgar chuckled.

“Oh…” Bim could feel his cheeks warming up a little.

“You can join me, Maggie could use some work today too, she’s starting to get a little hefty.” Edgar offered.

“Me? On a horse?” Bim scoffed.

“If you think it’s too hard then-”

“Too hard? Excuse me?” Bim placed his plate down and fixed his sleeves. “I’ll just be sitting on a large animal, it’s not too complicated.”

“Then get changed and prove it, I’ll head down and start getting things gathered.”

“I will.” Bim huffed and headed towards the stairs, stopping when he remembered they haven’t gone clothes shopping yet. “Uh...can I…”

“They’re in the same place as before,” Edgar said, already knowing what the question was.

“Thank you.” Bim scrambled up the stairs, knowing his moment was ruined.

“Alright, Sheila, let’s go find our spares.” Edgar watched as Sheila wagged her tail happily before taking off for the front door as if knowing what was going to happen next.

x~x~x

“Ed! Ed!” Bim called out as he headed down to the barns, nervously looking over his shoulder every now and again at Milo, who had been following him since he stepped out of the house. Elijah has been walking next to him as well, but at least the donkey was half his height and didn’t have the ability to swallow him whole.

Maybe he should stop watching horror films for a while.

“Let me get these two tied up to the trailer and we’ll get started,” Edgar said as he came out of the larger barn, guiding two horses by their lead ropes. Both horses already saddled up and ready. Bim ended up moving back a good several yards when Edgar got near him with the horses, heading over to a black trailer. “Can you hold this? I know Mags ain’t gonna run, but it’ll make me feel better.” Bim just stared at Edgar with wide eyes. “Scared of a little pony?” Edgar added with a teasing tone.

“No.” Bim scoffed and took the rope from Edgar, jaw tightening with fear as he kept his eyes on the horse, yelping when she suddenly lowered her head.

“She just wants some grass,” Edgar said when he heard Bim’s sound, not even looking away from the rope he was tying. “They always act like I never feed them,” He added with a little laugh and took the rope back from Bim, laughing more when Bim jumped away from Maggie when she started moving. “Just place a hand on their butt if you go behind them and you’ll be fine.”

“Why?”

“They might kick ya,” Edgar smirked when Bim took a step closer towards the trailer. “She’s not gonna go out of her way to get you, it’s self-defense.” Bim just made a face. “If you’re not up to it, you can just watch.”

“I can handle it.” Bim puffed his chest out.

“Helmet’s hanging on the front.” Edgar was doublechecking Maggie’s saddle since it was a different one than what he usually rode with.

“I’m gonna have helmet hair,” Bim mumbled his complaint as he placed the safety equipment on his head.

“Is that really the concern you’re having right now?” Edgar asked as he placed on his own helmet, clicking it easily.

“Ed? Is my helmet too small?” Bim asked, unable to get his strap to close.

“I was gonna make a mean joke, but I figure you’ll have enough of a headache later,” Edgar stated as he went over to Bim, taking the straps and adjusting them. “I haven’t used this one yet and he straps just need to be longer.” Edgar easily fixed the helmet and clicked the strap together, finding that his hands were lingering there for just a second more than they should have. “Need a stool to help get you on Mags?” Edgar asked, stepping away from Bim at a speed that confused Bim a little.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to jump up on Mount Olympus on my own.” Bim nervously laughed.

“You should see Buddy.” Edgar went into the trailer. “He’s a Clydesdale.” Bim had no idea what that meant but figured it meant that Buddy was a really big horse. “I’ve been trying to get my hand on a Shire horse but no one seems to be selling.” Edgar came back out with a stool in his hands. “They’re called ‘gentle giants’.”

“Sounds like Wilford,” Bim said and got a laugh from Edgar.

“He’s only gentle when he’s happy.” Edgar placed the stool next to Maggie’s side. “Hope on up.”

“Ugh…” Bim just stared.

“Step up, put ya foot in here and swing the other over,” Edgar instructed, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing again when Bim nervously stepped up the stool. “Last chance.”

“Stop trying to make me scared.” Bim blew a raspberry toward Edgar. Edgar just rolled his eyes.

“Get yourself a handful of mane, they can’t feel it, I promise and swing that leg over.” Bim made a little sound before trying what Edgar had said, finding himself falling back down and stiffening when he didn’t really make it over. “I know you’re stronger than that, am I gonna have to heave you over?”

“Maybe…” Bim said softly.

“Hold on.”

“Hold wha-ah!” Bim yelled when Edgar suddenly grabbed him by the waist and lifted him up and onto the horse. Bim’s jaw dropped and he could feel his face warming up at the realization that Edgar just picked him up like he weighed nothing.

“Let’s ride,” Edgar said, having gotten on the other horse with no problems. “Let’s go, Tiz.”

“How do you get them to move?” Bim asked, watching as Tiz started to walk.

“Squeeze your thighs,” Edgar answered. “Pull on the reign in the direction you wanna go and Maggie’ll do everything else.”

“Okay...cool...I got this.” Bim went stiff again as Maggie started to walk towards Tiz and Edgar.

“You look like ya gotta shit.” Edgar chuckled.

“Shut up,” Bim grumbled.

“We’ll just do a few rounds around the yard.” Edgar pointed to where he was talking about. “Think you can handle it?”

“Easily.” Bim stuck his nose up but was quickly made to go back to his ‘gotta shit’ face when Maggie started moving a little faster to catch up to Tiz.

“They like walking together,” Edgar explained.

“Good to know.” Bim squeaked out.

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[daisymondays]

Top 5 Drarry Fics?

God I literally couldn’t pick my top 5 Drarry fics if my life depended on it Nonnie, like I literally think i’d die because i’d keep remembering another fantastic fic and then my captor would get so fed up with me they’d just kill me to shut me up – this scenario got away from me

however i can give you five Drarry writers that I would literally trust to take me anywhere and whom as a writer I look up to an insane amount:

1. @lqtraintracks i’d literally read LQ’s shopping list at this point which really sums it up quite well. However, aside from shopping lists, LQ’s fics always promise fantastic Drarryiness (its the best way to sum it up okay!!) she just nails their dynamic !! burning hot smut, beautiful descriptions and suucchh amazing emotions // characters!!

2. @bixgirl1 another Drarry writer whose shopping list I would read with great pleasure because im sure said shopping list would include incredible characterisation, life destroying smut, high key banter and general fanatasticness !! idk how she’d do it all in a shopping list but if anyone was going to it’d be bix

3. @magpiefngrl is such a phenomenal writer who i really do look up to a lot like every time she speaks about writing im there scribbing notes down. Also her writing is just amazing, her scenes are so evocative and poignant and her characters always feel so true to themselves !! im never disapointed

4. @femmequixotic i have literally read everything they have ever written for Drarry and i will probably continue to do so as long as they keep writing drarry. Im suuuch a huge fan of femme’s works, again their characterisations are always so strong and emotional, like their characters are all so well-rounded and 3D with a whole range of motivations and personalities, and it’s always amazing!! everything is amazing

5. @aibidil has the most amazing imagination !! (i really overuse the word amazing but its true) like her plots are insane !! Her fics so often look outside the box of the usual Drarry fic and she’s got these amazing takes on ideas !!! Also banter, Aib’s hilarious so her fics are always fantastic plots with bonus of banter, great characterisation and feels for days

omg narrowing this down to 5 was actually ridiculously hard as i have so many other drarry writers i could mention and want to mention like there are just soooo many incredible ones out there, we’re really blessed, but this was me actually trying to stick to the question and give you 5, not 5 + a few more as i’m fickle

Thanks for ask Nonnie