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chicagocityofclans · 4 years

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Ethan Cleirigh → Jay Ryan → Warlock

→ Basic Information

Age: 763

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Powers: Panmnesia

Birthday: October 19th

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Religion: Buddhist

Mark: Cleirigh

Generation: 2nd

→ His Personality Ethan is somewhat of a loner and often keeps to himself. He is both intelligent and resourceful. He’s also a very rational individual, constantly analysing risks and the best course forward. After WWII, he withdrew into himself, becoming isolated from the world around him and self-loathing. He’s trying to be caring and compassionate to those in his life as he ages. He doesn't want to be his father's age and completely hate life or humans. His plans are always definite the moment he makes them until something makes him change them, and he frequently operates based on pictures of what he thinks ought to be.

When Ethan uses his power of Panmnesia, his darker PTSD side is more prominent, he is emotionally detached, even from those he is close to. His violent instincts are more discernible and make him more dangerous. With Panmnesia, Ethan can never forget and it plays a large role in who he is. He's often caught staring off in space; he remembers every heart ache as if it were seconds ago: every accident, every book and movie, everytime he walked in on a family member naked or in a compromised position. It drives his anxiety through the roof. All in all, he is still fighting for those who cannot and showing compassion, Ethan embodies intensity and warmth.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Retired

Scars: A scar on the right side of his face, from his eye to his jawbone

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Bodybuilding and Traditions

Two Dislikes: Avocados and Adulterers

Two Fears: Never Finding Love and Doppelgangers

Two Hobbies: Junk Food and People Watching

Three Positive Traits: Survivor, Hardworking, Elegant

Three Negative Traits: Brooding, Antisocial, Impartial

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Ronan Cleirigh (Father): Ethan and Ronan have a regular father son bond. Ethan looks up to the side of his father most people do not get to see.

Willow Radium (Mother): Ethan doesn’t know or care about his birth mother.

Ishtar Cleirigh (Step Mother): Isa has been in his life since Ethan was 2 years old. She is his mother by all means. She helped raise him alongside his father.

Sibling Names:

Nathan Cleirigh (Brother): Ethan is sure Nathan is the way he is because of his mother and his inactive powers. When they were younger they were insparetable but as they grew Nathan turned away from their culture. Ethan believes Nathan wants to be human and thinks he’s better than the rest of them. Ethan is still on friendly terms with Nathan but it’s only because they’re brothers.

Judson Cleirigh (Brother): Ethan and Judson have a close relationship. His brother joined him on the battlefield more than once as a medic. Instead of learning from Ronan, Kaylor, Garrett or Roman, Ethan trusts Judson to teach him about potions.

Teyla Cleirigh (Sister): Ethan tries not to think of his parents conceiving Teyla or Altair but it still weird him out that he has siblings that are over 700 years younger than him. He is happy that he has an active role in her life.

Altair Cleirigh (Brother): Ethan tries not to think of his parents conceiving Teyla or Altair but it still weird him out that he has siblings that are over 700 years younger than him. He is happy that he has an active role in his life.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Talia Cleirigh (Girlfriend): Ethan never thought he would commit but Talia is different and understands him. At first he did not trust her but she slowly gained his trust and his love.

Platonic Connections:

Roman Cleirigh (Uncle): Ronan forced him to move in with Roman and Talia after a few night terrors and PTSD moments. He was always closest to Roman but living with him has expanded their relationship. Ethan can now go as far as calling Roman his favorite Uncle.

Brighton ‘Bee’ Genesis (Uncle): Bee is Ethan’s uncle by marriage. Just like Judson, Uncle Bee joined him multiple times on the battlefields. Unlike his other Uncle Garrett and Aunt Kaylor, Ethan doesn’t mind having Bee around him.

Jin Asato (Friend): Jin, Asa and Ethan met at a Veterans ‘Outreach Program’. They were the only supernatural in the room and quickly bonded. Jin is one of the only people Ethan talks to outside of his family.

Asa Fields (Friend): Jin, Asa and Ethan met at a Veterans ‘Outreach Program’. They were the only supernatural in the room and quickly bonded. Asa is one of the only people Ethan talks to outside of his family.

Chiara Ricci (Friend): Ethan was romantically interested in Chiara for three seconds before she spoke. She reminded him of the tough female soldiers he had worked with before and they quickly became friends.

Hostile Connections:

Lawrence Cocci (Dislike): Lawrence threw a fireball at Ethan once. He claimed it was a mistake but the act alone was inexcusable.

Pets:

None

→ History Ethan was left as a baby on his father’s, Ronan, front porch just outside of what is now Sibiu, Romania. His mother, Willow, left him there having no idea that his father had abandoned the home and started down towards Greece. Ronan hadn’t deactivated his wards and was surprised to feel someone poking around his land. Ronan almost didn’t check because whoever or whatever it was quickly left but curiosity got the best of him. That’s when Ethan’s life really began. He started walking before he could crawl, no one around him crawled and he only mimicked what he saw. His first words were ‘Dada’ followed quickly by ‘damned humans’ and ‘sard! you change his nappies’. Ronan quickly narrowed Ethan's powers down to Panmnesia or Mnemokinesis and lectured him about swearing in public and in front of his aunt, Kaylor.

When Ethan first saw Ishtar, she shined brightly like an angel, and appeared out of nowhere. He learned that she was manipulating time and showed up right in the place he was looking. His two year old eyes couldn’t comprehend that it was just light bending and refracting around her body as she suddenly appeared. Ishtar became one of his favorite people that day. Ethan often found himself bored or learning about things that were way above his age, with panmnesia he could never forget what he read, he read faster than everyone else, he only needed to see something once and could easily repeat it. He excelled quickly with his powers, potions, charms, wards, spells and more. By the time Ethan reached his mid-200’s he was bored with life in general. That's when Ethan joined his first battle, the First Battle of St Albans and later on joined the war efforts of the Welsh Revolt. Ethan finally found something that kept his interest but also him on his toes.

Ethan had fought in many European individual battles but only two full wars; the Welsh Revolt and the First Italian War. It wasn’t until the Revolutionary War that Ethan stopped teleporting to Europe. He fought on both sides in the War of 1812, Mexican - American War, American Civil War and Spanish-American War. For World War I and World War II, Ethan chose a side and stuck to it. After returning from the Gulf War, Ethan became overwhelmed with the fast pace changes around him and rethinking his positions in the military. However, since then he has had multiple deployments overseas; frequenting Afghanistan, Iraq and Kuwait. Ethan had never joined for what he believed in or what he thought was right but only to help him pass time. When he wasn’t at war he was brushing up on new novels, discoveries and his magic. Ethan was always keeping busy and never noticed that he was developing a severe case of PTSD.

→ The Present Ethan was skeptical when his father kicked him out and forced him to consider staying with his uncle and his dream manipulator. He hated not being in his old room and sharing his space with Talia. But she never gave up and was constantly hounding him to let her help him. One day he listened to what she had to say as they shopped together for a Halloween mask for a masquerade ball thrown by Jia. His interest in her peaked and his hostility dampened. While it took almost a year for him to get to know her and fully trust her, Ethan is glad they're giving each other a try and finally making their relationship official.

Ethan has been retired for two weeks from the US Army Reserve. His family had a ‘small’ party for him last week but besides that Ethan has yet to leave the house again. He’s unsure what to do with himself or with his time. Usually between reenlisting, he would read, train his magic and learn new findings within their community, but every book he’s tried this decade has been trash. Ethan is sure that this time he will not be reenlisting in the future. He’s tried multiple times to go into a deep sleep for a few days or longer but he finds himself waking up fully rested after 8 or 12 hours of sleep. Between Talia, Roman, Ishtar, Ronan, Judson, Bee, Asa and Jin, Ethan is finally convinced he needs a hobby or job; the sooner the better.

#Ethan Cleirigh #Taken

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esther-sinclair · 5 years

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Adaine Abernant HCs

Now that she’s out of Hudol’s culture of theoretical magic only, Adaine uses magic for a lot of mundane or petty things. Not that she didn’t before (see: using all of her spell slots on Aelwyn before her first day of school even started), but if something weighs less than ten pounds, she will use mage hand.

Practical applications of magic are a great confidence booster, because this is something that she can do. She’s the one taking spells and making them work for her, and she’s stuck with being the oracle so she might as well take advantage of that in any way she can.

Adaine has issues with getting to sleep, a remnant of frequently staying up until three in the morning to get homework done, but she and Riz are insomnia buddies. Riz has a lot going through his head all the time so he will just talk, and Adaine can exist, knowing that she’s not alone and isn’t under so much pressure to be.

She ends up getting really into stargazing. There’s the magic uses of knowing what phase the moon is in, but it’s also just nice to sit in her window seat, watching stars move past. She learns the constellations, and during one of the Bad Kid’s rooftop hangouts she impresses the others with how many she can point out.

For the first time in her life, Adaine actually has a good sibling relationship. She and Tracker get pretty close, and her feral younger sister side is finally allowed to run free. There are some pretty wildly escalating pranks, because Tracker is a werewolf who was practically raised by the force of chaos that is Jawbone, and Adaine is a Fantasy AP student.

They actually do become pretty close, though. Tracker knows what it is like to be kicked out by parents, and Adaine can actually care about someone who cares about her.

This does, however, mean that Adaine gets to hear about Kristen’s crush on Tracker and Tracker’s crush on Kristen from both sides.

As a kid, Adaine did ballet (or the closest Traditional Elven Equivalent), and has a lot of residual hangups about movement. The perfection and need to be precise just compounds with her anxiety, and she is even more hyper aware of what her limbs are doing at any given moment.

There’s a kind of startling moment when she is hanging out with the Bad Kids, laughing and poorly dancing, and she realizes that she isn’t thinking about the angles of her body or the position of her feet, and it feels so good.

Adaine has visions practically every night, and while some are of superficial moments of luck, a lot of the time they’re of people that she cares about getting hurt, or things going badly, and the pressure amps up because she knows that she’s the only one who can do something about it. That’s a lot of pressure for one teenaged girl, even with her emotional support frog, and she doesn’t talk about most of it. She sees it all as a burden for her, because she’s the Elven Oracle, so she should be able to handle it on her own.

At one point she breaks and tells Jawbone, because she’s trying to be better about that, at being open and asking for help, and Jawbone’s heart breaks just a little. There’s only so much that he can do, both as a guidance counsellor and guardian, but he becomes as good of a support system that he can.

On bad mornings, they can just drink tea and talk, and it’s nice, and for once, Adaine feels some of that weight of the world get lifted off of her shoulders.

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #adaine abernant #kristen applebees #jawbone #tracker #the bad kids

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seadeepywrites · 4 years

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When the River Meets the Sea

Character: Fathom Tidechaser Words: 3490 tw: death, violence/gore, body horror

1. Our Souls Will Leave This Land

Fathom isn’t afraid until the moment his Heal spell fails him. Like a sword parrying in a clash of steel, like a rubber ball rebounding off a stone wall, the magic that is supposed to close his wounds slips free of his grasp, reflecting back on him. As the sudden, breathless darkness of necrotic damage leaches his strength, Fathom feels it: a flicker of fear.

Fathom is occasionally anxious and frequently surprised, but true fear like this is vanishingly rare for him. He has faced vampires and corpse-stealing fiends from Hell and suture-scarred fleshy mutants that should never have existed in the first place. He has healed injuries, raised the dead, and climbed out of his own grave. He has walked between planes, traveled backwards through time, and spoken to gods.

Today, for the first time in his several lives and deaths, Fathom considers the idea that Melora’s blessing may not be enough to save him.

The illithid-lich shrieks without sound, and even aware of what’s coming, Fathom can’t stagger out of the way quickly enough. Its psychic scream blasts his mind free of his body, into some hazy place where the real-time consequences of combat don’t seem to matter. Fathom knows, on some level, that he is standing here in front of the illithid and its creations, flat-footed and slump-shouldered. But most of him is absent, drifting through a blurry infinity of vague concepts and disconnected thoughts. Not unlike being extremely high, actually.

Next to Fathom, the eye sockets of a dozen skulls light up with the same eerie green glow that pervades this lair. Their jawbones seem to widen and vibrate with silent laughter — or maybe that’s just Fathom’s vision swimming. Fathom isn’t present enough to be concerned as his soul begins to prise itself from his body, attempting to wriggle free of his flesh like a snake shucking its skin.

It is only the sigil inked across Fathom’s collarbones that prevents it, the Death Ward flaring in one final, desperate attempt to keep Fathom alive. Even when he himself isn’t fully aware of it. Even when blood slips slick over his upper lip and his neck, running like water from his nose and ears. Even when he sees — sees but cannot make himself react — sees the illithid floating down from its dais.

The illithid reaches out toward him with one hand, whispering in its breathy voice. Fathom can’t quite parse the words over the thunderous roar of his pulse crashing in his ears. It doesn’t really matter, though, does it? The illithid’s slender tentacles reach out too, impossibly long and serpentine, and wrap themselves around Fathom’s head.

Melora, Fathom thinks. He would say it out loud, if he could. If he could shape his lips to breathe it out, he would want her name to be the last word he says. It is a prayer and it is a plea: Please. Help my friends where I’ve failed. Give them the power to defeat this evil where I cannot.

The only thing in the world that Fathom truly, deeply cares about — the only thing he will ever live and die for — is his goddess. He would go to his death gladly — placidly allow the illithid to drink his brain like so much beef stew — if he could know for sure that he hasn’t disappointed her. But he isn’t sure of that at all, so Fathom’s heart stutters and his blood freezes to ice as the illithid’s tentacles smother him, obscuring his vision.

Melora, he thinks again, with desperation and heartbreak and terror.

And then the pain begins.

**********

2. The Winds of Time

In the darkness, Fathom hears the sound of ocean waves. He knows the Material Plane and several others by now — the Astral Plane, the Feywild, Orthrys, the Plane of Time, and Pandemonium among them. This place is none of those. This is maybe not a place at all but a feeling, a moment between breathing in and breathing out. It holds him like the fuzzy apathy from the illithid's Mind Blast did, but a thousand times more transient, more ineffable.

Fathom is alone here — until he is not.

He learned a long time ago to see beyond the sight of his eyes, to sense beyond the flesh that covers his bones. It’s that ability now that tells him who surrounds him.

First is the clicking of goat hooves and an uncanny chuckle, a presence as mysterious and mercurial as a dream. The glint of sharp teeth smiling, and a shimmer like a heat mirage. Fathom recognizes the unpredictable, long-limbed, goat-eyed Archfey-in-the-form-of-a-man who scraped him off the rocks of the Feywild and brought him back to life the first time. The Entertainer. The Twilight Walker.

Second comes the rustling of midnight-black wings, which bring an endless field of stars in their wake. This void is hers, as is the longbow the halfling wields and every inch of Tanazil's new human body. Fathom has passed through her domain several times now, but only discovered recently that she was once a person like him. A friend of the party's, once, until she sunk into a slumber from which she would never wake. Umbra, the Raven Queen. Keeper of the boundary between life and death.

Fathom actually tastes the third presence in the back of his throat, the sweet and heady burn of alcohol mid-swallow. If he had a face right now, he'd smile, because it's a familiar sensation. It reminds him of the wild nights of carousing he's participated in over the years and, more rarely, the sheer bloody joy of splitting knuckles and breaking furniture in tavern brawls. There's an energy to this presence, careless and defiant. Appropriate for one of the youngest gods, whose reign over his twin domains of strength and luck is just beginning. Cayden, proprietor of the Drunken Sailor until his recent removal from the Material Plane.

Fourth is another brand-new god, one whom the party itself assisted in his ascension. With him comes the clicking of tiny gears and the whisper of sand through an hourglass that now only exists in memory. He is a god of brilliant ideas and science precise enough to navigate through the stained-glass labyrinth of the Plane of Time — and while Fathom respects him, he does not understand him in the slightest. Fathom will keep his own slow thoughts and poor reading comprehension, and leave the worship of this god to the more intellectual party members, like Curt. Fizzlewick, once a gnome artificer who spliced together various realities. Now so much more.

Fifth is the reason they are all here, an overpowering feminine force who is both beautiful and terrible. Like Umbra, her wings would engulf all if Fathom could see them, but he has already witnessed their burning white radiance. He’s got his suspicions about Trox's allegiance, because he's seen the bug man's shell light with the same bleached-bone color. Amidst the chaos, Fathom can hear the thrum of the threads of Fate as they dance between her fingers. If she has a name beyond the mistress of such things, he does not know of it.

Last and most beloved is the taste of salt and the scent of ozone, vast and untamed ever-changing. Fathom's loyalty to her is as boundless as the waters she rules over and as fierce as the violence of the tempest. She has been in every breath he takes since the day he was brought into the world, and he will follow and fight for her long after he leaves it. Melora, goddess of sea and the wilderness. Fathom has pledged himself to her before, and would do it a thousand times again.

There are other gods here too, ones Fathom has heard of from the many faithful he's met in his travels. But these are the ones Fathom knows, the ones Fathom has actually met personally and spoken to. They surround him with their awful, unspeakable power — if Fathom were still alive, this much divine energy in one place would undoubtedly blow him into tiny pieces or melt his eyes right out of his skull.

"Hi," Fathom says, or tries to. "What's up, guys?"

It is Fizzlewick who answers him, voice gleaming gold against the blackness that surrounds them. His words resonate in Fathom's mind, deafening and omnipresent in a way they never were in life. WE ARE WAITING, he says.

Fathom considers this. "Waiting for what?"

WAITING FOR A CHOICE, Fizzlewick says, and does not explain further.

"Aren't you the god of time?" Fathom asks, skeptical.

YES, Fizzlewick replies, and is it just Fathom's imagination, or does he sound a little bit cranky? THAT IS WHY I AM GIVING HIM THE TIME TO CONSIDER IT.

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess."

Several ideas connect suddenly in Fathom's head, in that lightning-flash and logic-less way he processes concepts:

Curt, invisibility spell broken, screaming himself hoarse in a way Fathom has only heard once before. Although that time he’s been a version of Curt from a future where the illithid had triumphed, and then after the screaming stopped he wasn't Curt at all.

The sound of a vial uncorking. The screaming suddenly cut short.

A gift that Curt was given weeks earlier, when the party visited Fate's domain, in faint disapproval but also in consolation. A promise that the gods had not given up on the young wizard entirely, not yet.

"Huh," Fathom says.

So he settles down to wait in the way he does best: aimless, serene, equivocal. Just vibing. The pain and terror that accompanied his death seem very far away, like faded colors or muted sounds.

At some point, the waiting ends. Was it half a second, or was it forever? It could have been either. Fizzlewick speaks again, and Fathom's soul rouses itself to respond.

HE CHOSE CORRECTLY, Fizzlewick says.

"Cool. So what happens now?"

NOW, Fizzlewick says, I SEND YOU BACK TO HELP MY CHAMPION.

That's new information, actually — that Fizzlewick now has a champion — but it doesn't take a genius to figure out who Fizzlewick's talking about. Which is good, because Fathom definitely isn't one.

The void, the gods, this in-between place — all begin to dissolve, in the same rhythmic way that waves erase footprints in the sand. Instead of divine presence, Fathom becomes aware of a ceaseless wind that carries the whispers of insanity along with it. As the sound of the wind — which somehow, mysteriously, continues to blow indoors and underground — increases, so does another sound: a rapid, clicking whir. Like the hands of a pocket-watch, spinning forward. Or backward. Or both.

Fathom can see again: golden light, bright enough to sear through his closed eyelids. More to the point, he's back in his body, in his deeply cursed plate armor, with his arm made of water and his silver trident at his fingertips.

He is alive, and he's pretty sure his brain is firmly inside his skull, which are both things he never thought he’d experience again.

Fathom's eyes flutter open to a scene that would look really strange if it wasn’t the one he'd been seeing just before his untimely death. Trox and Tanazil are hacking at the illithid, both wielding enormous axes and foaming with berserker's rage. The halfling's elk is there too, rearing up with its wickedly sharp front hooves to contribute to the damage. The giant translucent pods up on the dais seem to have increased in number, which is odd, but it is not the oddest thing here by far.

As Fathom clambers to his feet, he realizes he doesn't just feel alive — he feels great. Better than he ever has in his multiple lives, maybe. The glow that haloed him is already fading, but there is another god's power present here, crashing inside him like thunder and breaking surf. Fathom feels almost limitless. Renewed. Reinvigorated.

"Now that's more like it," he says with satisfaction.

He sends a fragmentary thought through the telepathy rings, just enough to tell the nameless halfling he is alive. Her joy radiates back at him, warm and wonderful.

Then Fathom hefts his shield and his trident, and prepares again to fight.

**********

3. That Sweet And Final Hour

Melora takes him home. Or rather, Melora takes him back to the only place that has always been there for him, a place that has taken from and given to and blessed and cursed him. Melora takes him back to the place that has always been hers, and now is a little bit Fathom's too.

Melora clasps his hand and pulls him between planes with a lurching tug he has come to recognize, not unlike free fall or the sudden drop of a ship's deck below his feet. And then he is with his goddess on the cliffs of Cherat, in the very spot he once stood and whipped up a storm, looking out over the wind-roughened gray expanse of the sea.

Fathom turns to Melora, unashamed of the tears in his eyes. "Thank you," he says, breathing deeply. "It's good to be home."

"Yes," Melora says somberly, looking out across the water.

They stand there for a moment side by side, saying nothing because they have said all there is to say already. The world has been saved. The tapestry of Fate has been re-woven. Fathom's friends, the little dysfunctional adventuring party he has kept alive at all costs, have gone their separate ways. Fathom's journey is, in so many ways, all over.

"I wasn't sure we'd make it here," Fathom confesses, scratching idly at his darkness-beard. He shrugs. "But I figured I'd try anyway, you know?"

Melora shakes her head, smiling, her long hair rippling as it shifts against her bare shoulders. "I know," she says plainly. "I wasn't sure you would either."

"That makes three times I've died," Fathom muses. "Can't say I want to make it a habit. That last one really hurt."

Melora winces. "Fixing that was Fizzlewick's doing. I couldn't— There's only so much I could do, when—"

"I know," Fathom says quickly. He isn't sure if a goddess feels things like awkwardness or embarrassment, but that's certainly the image Melora projects when she stumbles over her words like this. It delights him, actually, the thought that he's spent enough time with her now to recognize the habit.

"I'm glad," Melora says, relaxing slightly. "That you survived. Or, well. That you're alive now."

Fathom tips his head back and closes his eyes, letting the sea breeze mist across his already-damp skin. "That makes two of us," he says. After a moment, he adds, "'Cause now that I've done the save-the-universe thing a couple times, I just want to chill for a bit. And I feel like hanging out on the Material Plane would be weird if I was dead."

"Weird, yes," Melora acknowledges with a nod. "Also sort of forbidden by Umbra and her followers."

"Ha. Wouldn't want Tanazil coming after me. That axe of his is pretty sharp. Though..." Fathom brushes his fingers against the hilt of his trident. "I kind of feel like I could take him."

"Hmm. Maybe." Melora's smile is amused, maybe a little indulgent.

"Curt seemed to think he'd be able to do it," Fathom continues. "But Curt has a pretty big head when it comes to his own powers." He pauses, voice softening. "He made the right choice, though. When it counted."

"That he did."

Fathom shakes his head, sighing. "Imagine fighting the illithid and all that because it was the right thing to do. A moral compass, or whatever."

Melora makes a little noise of objection.

"What? I know damn well I'm not that selfless."

"And what do you call your help in the whole matter then?"

Fathom stares at her. Surely she is just teasing — surely she must know. "My lady," he says, frowning. "That was all for you."

Melora blinks, a slow sweep of her lashes, her eyes glistening gray-blue-green-black-gold. Then she smiles, reaches across to pat Fathom on the shoulder.

"My champion," she says fondly.

Fathom shuffles his feet and squints out at the water again. There is silence between them for several long minutes, though of course it is never really silent here. The waves hiss and crash, and above their heads gulls screech and circle. The sky is a boundless blue, darkening to slate where clouds encroach at its edges.

Fathom is like a grain of sand on this beach, a tiny part of something much larger. His soul sings with it, with the connection to the land and the sky and the sea. He is suddenly quite certain that if he wanted to, he could step into open air and soar. Could fly upward towards the bright, alluring heat of the sun until his lungs lost their breath. Then he'd tumble downward head over heels to meet the sea under sunlight, and it would welcome him into its salty and eternal embrace.

Melora has entrusted him with part of her domain, and Fathom thinks this is one of the few things he’ll be able to carry with him for the rest of his life. One of the sole responsibilities he'll shoulder and never ever grow tired of, never seek restlessly to move on and walk away. He's left so many people and places behind, but this — this he can keep.

"So," Melora says after some unknown amount of time has passed. "What's next? Mushrooms?"

Fathom tilts his head. "Do you mean going to visit Toad like we planned, or the kind that makes you hallucinate? 'Cause I'm down either way."

"Yes," says his goddess, and offers him her hand again.

**********

4. Epilogue: The Almighty Sea

Fathom Tidechaser lives his life.

He spends two weeks with Tanazil in silent retreat and contemplation, drinking in the richness of the ancient, mossy forest, perfectly at peace. But while it’s a haven of relaxation and redemption for Tanazil, Fathom can’t linger. He’s never been able to settle down, not even for a few months. The power Melora has blessed him with guides him onward like he’s a ship sailing toward the horizon, pointing into the bittersweet unknown.

The halfling and her fey patron are always able to find him no matter where he travels, and it becomes something of a game between them all: to play pranks on Fathom, to get their tricks past his uncanny awareness of his surroundings. He catches them as often as they succeed, and it’s always a joyful reunion. The once-nameless halfling introduces herself these days with the name the Entertainer has given her. It suits her.

Curt turns twenty, which is a surprise to everyone who thought he'd get himself killed long before that. Technically he has, several times, but Fathom figures that any debt Curt built up from Fathom's resurrections was definitely repaid when Curt asked Fizzlewick to revive him. So they are equals now. On an even footing. Fathom has zero interest in the school of magic Curt is establishing on the moon, but he can recognize the bright-eyed whip-smart type of adventurer who would thrive there. He frequently sends Curt new recruits, and along with them his best wishes, but visits rarely.

Fathom travels as he always has. Now, though, he can raise and quiet storms at his command. He can also fly without a spell, skimming over the surface of the ocean for miles until he finds a ship and scares the hell out of its crew by landing on the rigging like a gigantic shiny albatross. When he is addressed as a minor deity, he scoffs, but then he wonders: are the frightened sailors that far off the mark?

Fathom dies — finally, permanently, for good — at a much younger age than most, but that's hardly surprising. He is powerful enough to face almost any creature on the Material Plane, and several more planes besides, but the one person he can't resurrect is himself. It isn’t a dramatic sacrifice, nor is it a gentle and peaceful passing. It is simply a death — ugly and brutal and fast.

He greets Umbra as a friend, only exchanging a few words with her. Because they both know where he’s going, of course. Melora is one of the few deities with no astral domain, choosing instead to wander the cosmos eternally. So this is less of an ending and more of a transformation — from one way of being to another, like a wave breaking and returning to the water. Fathom’s soul still travels, still soars over the sea, still stirs up storms in thunderous magnificence.

Fathom Tidechaser dies, and serves his goddess long past his death, until his name is mentioned in the same breath as hers. Things change, as they always do. Fathom dies, but he lives on.

#Fathom #Heretic campaign #this is gonna be the last campaign story I ever post for him probably #cause we r DONE #my boy hit 20th level and became a demigod #also also the titles of the sections & the thing overall are from the song by the same name #yes it's a song from the Muppets shut up #also snuck a Hozier reference in there if you're paying attention

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dreamwritesimagines · 6 years

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Faint Of Heart 29- The Conqueror [Ivar x Reader]

A.N.: There we go my darlings, the last chapter! <3 I can’t thank you enough for your support throughout this story, you guys are absolutely amazing and I should probably stop before I get too emotional <3 I love you guys! <3

Summary: Every story has its end.

Characters: Ivar x Reader, Ubbe x Torvi, Hvitserk, Bjorn

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of violence and blood and birth, mentions of sex and arranged marriage, please read with care. Also, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the messed up stuff happening on the show or in here.

Word Count: 6328

Due to the linking issue, previous chapters are in my masterlist!

Gif’s not mine!

You were absolutely certain that you could now understand the meaning of actual pain. Every physical pain you had been through so far, it was nothing. The time you had sliced your hand with Ivar’s axe, all the times you had fallen and bruised yourself when you were a child, even the time when you had been poisoned and vomited blood-

All of that was nothing.

In fact, you were also certain that this would be how you died, but just when you thought it would kill you-

It was over.

Hours of torture and screaming and pain, all of that was over and you were sure you had blocked out every other noise except for his crying and midwife’s simple sentence;

“Congratulations my queen, you have a healthy son.”

You could barely feel Bree letting out a breath or hear Gala’s praying as they gave him to you, and that was exactly when you understood what they had meant;

That right there, that was enchantment.

The rest of it was a blur, how you fed him, how they changed the sheets, and took care of everything, so the last thing you remembered was Bree taking him from your arms, cooing at him softly before you fell into a deep, very deep slumber.

Your dreams were full of different images, many falcons flying over a battlefield, along with a chariot riding over cowslips and sharks jumping over ships until-

“Bring me that physician!”

And no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t open your eyes to wake up from the dream.

“My king-“

“I don’t care if you warm my brother’s bed, get out of my way, or-“

“Ivar, don’t talk to her like that!”

“Bjorn, you stay out of it-“

And then there were more noises of flap of wings, all over the room.

“Ivar, if she just fell asleep-“

“Fell asleep, huh? She’s lying Ubbe, why can’t I see her then?”

“Because you keep yelling and you will wake her up, why else!? We’ve been here less than a minute and you already threatened to kill three people, I’m still counting-”

“Ivar, just see the baby first, hm? Hold your son-“

“I’m not seeing that thing until I see her first.”

“…That thing?”

“Hvitserk-“

“That thing is your son, you foolish-“

“I’m not going to hold him until I’m sure he didn’t hurt her- or… or killed her.”

“By the Gods Ivar, are you listening? She’s fine-“

“Then let me pass!”

And then more noises of falcons cooing, along with wings and-

Something was tickling your nose. It was as if someone was holding their hands right under your nose, and you had seen that happening before, which was more reason to believe you were dreaming.

That was how your father had checked whether Edgard was still breathing one time he’d had fever.

“She- she doesn’t look like how I left her.”

“What?”

“She looks- it’s your fault, it must be because you didn’t take good care of her and she got sick-“

“I’d like to see you pushing a baby out of your body and not looking sick, your majesty.”

“Bree-“

“Ivar, she has been screaming for God knows how many hours, she lost blood, she’s tired, it’s normal.”

There was a pressure by your pillow, as if he was checking your pillow for tears out of habit.

“Did it hurt her?”

“Do you know anything about birth at all?”

“How does Bjorn stand your presence?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question about you with her, your grace.”

“Do you have a purpose of being here?”

“Yes, I’m making sure you will not wake your son up, then I will leave.”

“.Is he- um… Is he healthy?”

“Very. You’re certain you don’t wish to hold him?”

“Not until she wakes up, no.”

And then your dreams were filled with battle cries and a boar for some reason, until there was a creak of the hinges of the door and you moved a little in the haze of your sleep, reaching out to feel the baby lying by your side-

Only to meet an empty space.

The panic shooting through you was so sudden that it made you open your eyes immediately and you sat up in the bed, your heart slamming against your ribcage-

“He’s alright, he’s in his crib-“ someone gripped your wrists and you turned your head, still breathing hard and trying to calm down.

“Ivar?”

“He’s sleeping,” he pointed at the crib at the corner of the room with Eitr perched over it, and you tried to breathe slower, the baby was fine-

Ivar was here.

Ivar was actually here.

“You-“ you swallowed thickly, still trying to catch your breath, “You’re back.”

Ivar nodded, his eyes still searching your face, “Do you- are you alright?”

Even if you wanted to answer, you couldn’t. Your throat tightened, seeing him after so many months without knowing whether he was alive or not made the tears fill your eyes and before you could even stop yourself, you had already flung yourself into his arms. He held you tight, dragging the furs along as he pulled you to himself and you buried your face to his neck, breathing in his scent.

It was almost as if you were in a dream.

Almost, but even more pleasant.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair, taking a deep breath and rubbing your back as if trying to calm you down, “I’m sorry you had to go through that alone little shark, I- I wanted to come back sooner.”

You shook your head slightly, still holding onto him for dear life,

“Were you scared?”

You sniffled and nodded against his neck, making him heave a sigh and tighten his grip.

“Thank the Gods nothing happened to you,” he mumbled, his fingers caressing your hair before he reached under your chin to tilt your head up, then kissed you, making your eyes flutter close.

“I missed you so much…” You whispered, grabbing his armor and pulling him towards the bed, but your grip was too weak for even yourself. Ivar seemed to understand and he chuckled at your small whine when you couldn’t make him move,

“I just got here little shark, I need a bath and-“

“No,” You shook your head, sniffling and still trying to tug at his arm, and at last he moved to get on the bed. You instantly wrapped yourself around him but he didn’t seem to mind it, instead his arms wrapped around you to flush you against him, as if he yearned for your embrace as much as you did for his. You reached out to drag your thumb over his jawbone, cupping his cheek and he smiled down at you, pressing a kiss on your forehead,

“Rest a little, hm? I’ll be here.”

“Do not move though.”

Ivar chuckled, “You’re wrapped around me like an octopus my love. How will I move?”

“…What’s an octopus?”

Ivar’s laugh vibrated through his chest, “I will tell you when you wake up. Close your eyes, go to sleep.”

You nodded slowly and fell asleep in less than five seconds.

A very sharp wail of a cry pulled you out of your deep sleep and it took you almost a minute to understand where that was coming from. Ivar moved beside you, making a face and mumbling about being too tired, and you yawned, hoping somebody would put the poor thing to sleep so that-

“My queen, do you need help?” Gala knocked on the door and you opened your eyes.

Oh.

You were supposed to put the poor thing to sleep.

Right.

“Um- no thank you Gala!”

“How is he so loud?” Ivar muttered, still half asleep and you shook your head, trying to get rid of sleep and pulled away from his warmth. You swung your legs off the bed to the floor, checking whether you could actually move after that terrible pain, but so far everything felt alright, just a little sore. You were surprised at yourself, but then you stood up, and walked to the crib as Eitr flapped her wings, keeping her eyes on him.

He had scrunched up his face, his fists tightly closed with his small thumbs wrapped inside them, and he blinked groggily before you reached inside the crib to pick him up, his small, limbs trembling in your grip as he hiccupped, taking both you and himself by surprise.

“Hey,” you whispered “It’s okay my sweet, everything is alright,”

The baby sniffled for a moment, and you strained your mind, trying to figure out what he would-

Oh.

Maybe he was hungry?

That was what the midwife had said. You were supposed to feed him because he would get hungry quite frequently-

Why was all this information still lost to you now that you had given birth?

“Are you hungry?” you whispered, still rocking him as you walked to the very big and comfortable chair Bree had Gala place in front of the window, where the sunlight was coming through the curtains, creating a lovely warmth. You sat down and slipped your nightgown a little so that you could feed him, sensation still very new to you but that seemed to be what he had wanted, as he stopped crying immediately.

So this was the trick?

You made a mental note to ask the midwife all those questions, leaning back in the seat, supporting his head and he soon pulled back, blinking up at you. You fixed your nightgown, frowning at yourself.

There had to be something else.

The baby moved his legs, scrunching up his face again as if he was getting ready to cry but the minute you changed his position, his face relaxed again, making your jaw drop.

You fixed his position to press him against your chest, his head resting on the crook of your neck and you smiled wide when his breathing got slower, less like he was getting ready to cry but more relaxed.

You giggled to yourself as you stood up, and took a step to pace in the room but as soon as you did, your eyes fell on Ivar, wide awake, sitting up in the bed as if he wanted to see what was happening. He shifted slightly, averting his glances the moment he saw you looking at him.

“Is he alright?”

You nodded, “I think I’m beginning to understand him, a little,” you couldn’t help the excitement in your tone and Ivar nodded,

“Oh.”

“Have you held him yet? Bree has, so has Gala but-“

“I haven’t really seen him yet.”

You raised your brows, “What?”

“I haven’t had the chance.”

“You were here when I woke up?”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You bit on your lip, then approached him, careful not to disturb the baby,

“Hold out your arms then.”

Ivar’s eyes snapped up to yours and he swallowed thickly, “It’s better if I looked at him while you’re holding him.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s too little,”

“Yes?”

“I might hurt him accidentally, if I hold him wrong.”

“What?” You scoffed, “Gods… Hold out your arms.”

“Y/N-“

“I will show you how to hold him. Without hurting him.”

“But what if I do?”

“You will not, because I’m right here my beloved,” You assured him, “Hold out your arms, like what I just did.”

He pressed his lips together, then mimicked your actions until you slowly put the little bundle into his arms,

“You’re supposed to support his head like this,” You fixed his grip and covered the baby’s stretched out hands with the furs before you pulled back, barely aware of how Ivar had stiffened, not even breathing for a couple of seconds before the baby blinked up at him, gurgling and moving his arms again, kicking at the furs slightly. You felt a smile pulling at your lips as you leaned back, keeping your eyes on Ivar and the baby who were both staring at each other with a similar expression of amazement.

“Hello, little one,” Ivar’s voice was almost too low, and you leaned in to touch the baby’s small fists, dragging your fingertips over his soft skin before looking up at Ivar.

“Ivar,” you whispered but he couldn’t seem to drag his gaze from the squiggling baby,

“Hm?”

“We’re enchanted,” You giggled, making him sniffle and smile at you, his eyes brighter with tears and he nodded, looking down at the baby again,

“What- what should we call him?” he asked silently and you tilted your head to the right, keeping your eyes on the baby. Even if you had been trying to decide for months and changing your mind each time, the idea had never been clearer in your head.

“Ragnar?” You asked and his head shot up, his eyes finding yours. He seemed almost speechless and you nibbled at your lip.

“So that we can both remember that we will be better parents than our parents ever were,” you muttered, “And… it fits him. I can’t explain it, but it fits him.”

He swallowed thickly and nodded,

“Thank you,” he whispered and you smiled, then leaned in to kiss his lips, pulling back when the baby started cooing at you again, trying to reach up to you. You let Ragnar wrap his tiny fingers around your pointer, and looked up at Ivar,

“I will tell you something that will change your life, are you ready?”

“I think you already have.” Ivar said and you smiled at him brightly.

“Smell his head.”

Ivar pulled his brows together, “What?”

“Smell his head.”

“Why? Is there something wrong with his head?”

You tilted your head, shooting him a look, “Ivar. Smell his head.”

He looked at you as if you had lost your mind, but lowered his head to nudge at Ragnar’s forehead and his eyes widened, before he looked at you.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t that magic?” You laughed but then both of you turned your heads when someone knocked on the door.

“Are you two decent?” Ubbe’s voice carried out into the room, “Can we see the baby?”

“We?” Ivar asked as you grabbed your robe to put it on, then tied it around your waist, shrugging at him.

“Sure!” You called out and the door opened, then Ubbe, Torvi, Bjorn, and Hvitserk walked inside.

“Morning Y/N- let me see,” Torvi approached Ivar, walking past Ubbe and you got off from the bed so that they all could come closer, crossing your arms and leaning sideways to the wall. Someone touched the small of your back, making you look over your shoulder and Bree smiled at you.

“I held them off as much as I could,” she muttered, “Bjorn has been talking about the baby for two hours now,”

Ubbe squeezed your arm as he walked past you and you smiled at Bjorn who wrapped you in a big hug before making his way to the baby as well.

“I’m the eldest, I get to hold him first.”

“That has nothing to do with that, do you even know how to hold a baby?”

“I dropped you on your head while you were a baby Ubbe, does that count?”

“Nobody is dropping my son!”

“Hey,” someone touched your shoulder and you turned to look at Hvitserk, shifting your weight.

“Hi. Welcome back, all of you.”

“Are you alright?” his voice was concerned, but it held none of that tone he used to have, making you raise your brows, and you nodded fervently.

“Yes,”

“Let’s hope he takes after you,” Hvitserk said, winking before walking to see the baby as well. Bree leaned her chin on your shoulder,

“Bjorn says a lot of things changed while they were on a raid.”

That raid.

Gods, you were so distracted by Ragnar and Ivar’s return that you hadn’t even had a chance to ask him about it.

“Did they-?”

“It’s a long story, Ivar can tell you.” Bree said, “But… I believe neither of us will be having nightmares anymore.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a breath before opening them again to focus on the brothers.

“You looked at him enough, Ubbe!”

“Yes, hand him over!”

“I’m sure the baby doesn’t want to see your face, Hvitserk.”

“He will be taking after his most handsome uncle, which is me, so when you think about it-“

“He looks nothing like you, thank the Gods.”

“Hey!”

“That’s it, let me hold him-“ Bjorn took the baby from Ubbe and you stole a look at Bree who was watching him with a smile on her face. You nudged her slightly, and she tried to repress her smile.

“Hm?”

“It’s not a bad thing if you’re reconsidering your plans, or lack thereof,” you muttered, making her scoff a laugh,

“He looks like me if you ask me.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“And I’m hoping my son will not look like you, Ubbe,” Ivar frowned when Bjorn leaned in to smell the baby, “You knew about that?!”

“Of course, I was around when all of you were born, remember-“ Bjorn’s boasting was cut off when the baby started crying in his arms and just like that, all the men in the room froze.

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“Y/N, he’s crying.”

“You four just brought down a kingdom and you don’t know what to do when a baby cries?”

Ivar looked between you and the baby, shaking his head slightly and you repressed a laugh, then made your way to Bjorn to take Ragnar, who stopped crying as soon as he was pressed against you, sucking on his thumb while he wrapped your hair in his other hand.

“Have you decided what to call him yet?” Bjorn asked as you pressed your lips on Ragnar’s soft tuff of hair.

“Ragnar,” you said and Hvitserk’s head whipped around, Ubbe gawked at you and Bjorn raised his brows.

“Her idea, not mine,” Ivar said as you rocked Ragnar in your arms, and Bjorn nodded slowly.

“Thank you,”

“It fits him,” you smiled as Ragnar cooed against your skin happily, shifting to press his cheek to your shoulder.

“We’d better leave you,” Ubbe elbowed Hvitserk, “Besides, Hvitserk has things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Like shutting up Ubbe,” Hvitserk said drily, shooting him a look, and walked towards the door, “Don’t get holed up in here, either of you.”

So, as it turned out, Vikings had many traditions concerning babies, and one of them was to acknowledge the child. Ivar had informed you about how it would go, but since both you and him were exhausted, you had decided to wait until the night, so that everyone could be ready for it.

Which of course, left you to spend more time with Ragnar, but now, both of you actually had time to pay attention to everything he did –or didn’t do-, so when the midwife walked into your bedchambers for the third time that day, she found you and Ivar frowning at the crib once again, with Eitr circling in the room.

“My King,” she bowed, “My Queen.”

“He hasn’t been crying,” you said, biting at your lip, and the midwife raised her brows,

“My Queen?”

“He’s asleep,” Ivar said and she looked between you,

“Good?”

“No, it’s not. Why isn’t he crying?”

“Why would he cry, your majesty?”

“Because he’s a baby, why else?” Ivar said crossly and turned to her, “Check him.”

The midwife smiled at you, “I already checked him, my king,”

“Well check him again!”

“You’re worried because he’s asleep?” the midwife asked you and you nodded slowly,

“He’s been asleep for an hour, and he still hasn’t woken up,” you explained, putting your hands on your hips, “And should we- what should we do if he’s asleep? What if he’s hungry?”

“I’m sure he’s supposed to cry,” Ivar added, glaring at the woman “You must be missing something.”

“Are three furs enough or should I get more?”

“What if he’s thirsty- should we give him water?”

“No!” The midwife said and you and Ivar exchanged looks, then turned to look at Ragnar again who was sleeping peacefully in his cradle.

“What if he’s cold?” You asked and she looked at Ragnar,

“I’m sure he would let you know, your majesty.”

“He’s a baby, and he hasn’t been awake for-“

“He has gone through a very long journey, my queen.” The midwife said, “It’s normal that he’s tired.”

“What if we woke him up?”

“No you can’t wake him up-“ you started, but it was too late. Ivar reached inside the crib and poked Ragnar’s soft stomach, making him grimace and open his eyes to let out a whine, then he started crying,

“Are you happy, my king?” The midwife asked and you heaved a sigh, then reached into the crib to pick him up,

“Ivar!”

“See, now he’s crying.”

“Yes because you poked him!”

“Unbelievable-“ you hushed Ragnar who was sniffling against your neck, rubbing his back and soon enough, he stopped crying. Instead, he blinked his teary eyes, reaching out to hold your hair in his tiny fist and the midwife looked between you as you heard Gala’s hurried footsteps along with some whispering.

“Every child is different, my king,” the midwife said, “But as far as I can tell, little prince will be calmer than most of the babies, perhaps his mother’s influence?”

“Is he- is he hungry now?” You calculated in your mind, panic taking over you “I- I last fed him an hour ago, should I wait for him to-I should get him more blankets-”

“Y/N, he won’t be able to move under four furs.”

“He can’t be cold though-“

“My Queen, have you sat down or rested since last night? Either of you?”

“I slept a little,”

“I do not need sleep.”

The midwife heaved a sigh, “You should give him to someone you trust so that they can take care of him for an hour or two.”

“I’m not staying away from him.”

“What sort of an advice is-“

“The baby can sense if you’re restless. Or…” she eyed you up and down, “Afraid. Both of you need a rest before tonight’s feast.”

“I can take him to Lady Bree, my queen.” Gala spoke from the door and the midwife nodded,

“Great.”

“I’m not-“

“I’ll be with her,” Hvitserk’s voice carried into the room before he peeked his head in, and Ivar frowned slightly,

“What are you doing here?”

“I was just passing by,” he said, “Besides, Bjorn is still talking about Ragnar, and I could barely see him because Ubbe kept holding him. Let us spend time with him a little, you saw him enough.”

“Saw him enough? He’s my child!”

“But it’s our turn.”

Gala stepped inside to take Ragnar from your arms, Ivar’s eyes stopping on her bracelet for only one moment before you protested,

“But-“

“Only an hour my queen. And we will be right outside the door, we will not even take him to the Great Hall.”

“I’ll get Bree here.”

“Rest,” the midwife said, “And please stop poking your child, he needs his rest too.”

“He’s not doing anything,” Ivar stated and you rubbed at your eyes, the fear crashing down on you as all of them left the room, leaving you and Ivar alone.

“Y/N?”

You shook your head slightly, looking at the closed door before turning to him,

“What if we make a mistake?”

“What?”

“What if we-“ You nibbled on your lip, “What if we do something wrong and he ends up-“ your voice cracked “We don’t even know whether he’s hungry or cold or- or anything, what if I accidentally starve him-“

“I’m sure you would realize if you were starving him, Y/N, it’s not like he’s very silent-“

“Or what if he gets cold?” you motioned at the door, “It’s not like he can say that! What if I’m not meant for- for-“ you swallowed thickly, “We keep saying that we’ll be better than our parents, what if I’m worse than my mother?”

“Love-“

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you told him, “I can’t even tell if he’s hungry or not. I can’t even- I can’t even tell if he’s supposed to be asleep or not, I just-“ you wiped at your eyes, then walked to sit down on the bed, running a hand through your hair, tugging at the roots. Soon enough, you heard the sound of Ivar’s crutch and then he pulled a chair to sit in front of you.

“Did you know Ubbe and Hvitserk almost drowned because mother was busy with something else?”

Your raised your glances and let out a whine, “Oh Gods, what if he drowns Ivar? We- we live by the sea-“

“I’m not telling you that to make you worry,” Ivar interrupted you, “What I’m saying is that-“ he took a deep breath, “Fine. Maybe you do not know what to do. I just poked him to make him cry, so it’s obvious I also do not know what to do.”

You let out a teary laugh, and wiped at your nose.

“But at least we know what not to do,” Ivar stated, “I’d say it’s a pretty good start.”

You nodded slowly, reaching out to entwine your fingers with his, still biting at your lip. Ivar pressed a kiss on top of your head and eyed you up and down, then looked up as if he was trying to remember something when he saw you still frowning,

“So, have you had a chance to ask Gala about her new bracelet?”

“What?”

“She has a new bracelet. And I know that, because I last saw that bracelet in someone else’s hand when we were in your home country.”

Your head shot up, “Whose?”

“Ask her.”

“Do you know though?”

Ivar nodded, and made a face, “Terrible choice if you ask me.”

“One of your warriors?”

He made a small noise, “Close.”

“Not an Earl?”

“Not an Earl, no.”

You smiled slightly, “Who though?”

“I’m not saying anything, ask her tonight.”

You nodded slowly and your eyes shot up to his,

“What happened in the raid?”

Ivar pulled back slightly, “That’s not a talk for right now, little shark.”

“But Ivar-“

“Tonight, I promise you.”

You nodded again, and shrugged, looking around the room,

“Now what?”

“Now you tell me what has happened in Kattegat while I wasn’t here.”

By the time you were ready to take Ragnar to the Great Hall, Ivar was already in the map room with Earl Eric and you were making sure Ragnar was wrapped in the furs properly, but he kept wriggling and moving his arms and legs, making you smile and coo at him. Bree was watching you and Ragnar, and Gala was preparing your crown until you turned you head,

“Gala?”

“Yes my queen?”

“May I see your bracelet please?”

She blushed almost instantly and Bree looked between you,

“What?”

“Gala has a new bracelet, I wish to see it.”

She lowered her glances to her arm, then looked up at you to see you smiling,

“My queen-“

“It looks very pretty,” you said, “Where did you get it?”

“It’s a- it’s a gift.”

“From?”

“That’s a very romantic gift,” Bree commented and you nodded

“It is, is it not?”

“Your warrior?” Bree smirked and Gala bit on her lip,

“I- it’s nothing really. I just- it looks lovely, so I thought I could perhaps wear-“

“Of course you should wear it, it looks gorgeous on you!” You cut her off, “Who gave it to you?”

“My queen-“

“Who is it?” You sang, and she blushed even worse, taking a shaky breath,

“Prince- Prince Hvitserk.”

Your jaw dropped and you pressed a hand on your chest, sitting up straight,

“Hvitserk?!”

“Oh-“ Bree’s smirk widened, “Oh I knew something was happening today.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“You were quite occupied!” Bree said and both of you turned to Gala,

“Well?”

“It’s just- he says- he says he saw this and thought of me, I’m sure it means nothing to him. He just saw a bracelet on my nightstand when I was resting at home earlier- after Lord Tredan, perhaps that’s the only reason-“

“Oh how sweet you are, Gala…” Bree muttered, and you pressed a kiss on Ragnar’s tiny hand to hide your grin, then took him into your arms,

“But you accepted it?” You asked as you grabbed your fur, and walked out of the door with Eitr flying behind you, and Bree and Gala followed you.

“Yes,” Gala nodded, “Shouldn’t I have?”

“Well, does he have your heart?”

“I wouldn’t dare, he’s a prince.”

Bree rolled her eyes, “He does not seem to care, why would you?” she asked, and all of you approached the entrance. As soon as you walked inside, you saw Ivar on his throne, talking to Floki and you waved at him, seeing him smiling back to you before Ubbe came to take Ragnar from you. You already knew what would happen, so you took a deep breath and walked to the table where Hvitserk was talking to Bjorn, and sat beside him,

“What are your intentions?”

Hvitserk turned his head to look at you, then lowered his cup,

“To- to finish my drink?”

You pointed in front of you so that Eitr could land on the table, looking at you.

“No, with Gala. What are your intentions?”

Bjorn raised his brows, then walked to approach Bree while Hvitserk stared at you,

“Why- did she say anything to you?” he asked in a haste, “What are her intentions with me?”

“She said nothing, I’m merely asking you.”

“She’s-“ he cleared his throat, “She’s very lovely.”

“That she is. Have you seen Eitr lately?”

Hvitserk frowned slightly, and nodded at your falcon, “I’m seeing her now.”

“She has a really sharp beak. Claws too.”

“I can see that as well.”

“Oh good,” you smiled at him, “Because if you break Gala’s heart, you will be seeing Eitr’s beak and claws very, very closely.”

Hvitserk’s eyebrows rose and he stole a look at Eitr who flapped her wings, then he turned to you,

“Understood,” he mumbled as the Hall fell silent, and Bjorn placed Ragnar on the ground. You kept your eyes on the wriggling baby, and you could barely keep yourself from going there to take him into your arms until Ivar lifted him to put him into his coat, and Hvitserk leaned in closer,

“He’s acknowledging that he’s his son,” he said, as Ivar splashed some water on Ragnar’s face, making him let out a faint cry and you drummed your fingertips on the table, biting inside your cheek. Hvitserk pushed your shoulder with his.

“Have you seen his gift for him?”

“What?” You asked as Ubbe came closer to Ivar, carrying something wrapped in silky fabric, but as soon as they revealed a crown, you heard Bree’s gasp from the corner of the room.

You had seen that crown a thousand times.

Edgard’s crown.

You could understand most of the things being said by now, as you still gawked at the crown.

“My son will be called Ragnar,” Ivar said in his language as the whole Hall listened, “And to him, I gift the crown of his mother’s home, for he will be the one to rule there, and Kattegat together.”

You let out a breath, keeping your eyes on him. Your heart flipped inside your chest as Ivar’s gaze met yours, and he pressed a kiss on top of your son’s head, smiling at you slightly.

The dinner lasted hours, since everyone looked like they wanted to celebrate Ragnar’s birth. Most of the people were drunk and once Ragnar started fussing in your arms, you had to excuse yourself, saying that the guest of honor needed his much needed rest. After many protests and funny faces from his uncles, and a small kiss from his aunt Bree, you carried Ragnar to your bedchambers with Eitr following you suit.

You did wonder if your mother had felt anything like this, when you were born.

On a second thought, maybe not.

You were sure you could never be away from him, not even for five minutes, let alone days, like your mother.

Eitr spread her wings over the crib and you smiled up at her, running a hand over her feathers with Ragnar’s eyes following your every move. He opened and closed his little mouth like a bird, then took his fist to his mouth, kicking his legs and you caressed his chubby cheek, leaning your chin on the wood of the crib. You hummed a very old song Bree had taught you when you were still children, keeping your eyes on him as the door opened and Ivar walked inside.

“I thought you’d be busy for a while,” you smiled up at him as he came closer to press a kiss on top of your head, then sat beside you, turning Edgard’s crown in his hand.

“I’ve been away from you for months,” he said softly, pulling you closer, “The whole Kattegat can wait.”

“Can they?”

“Definitely,” he said, taking in your scent, “Imagining you for all those months wasn’t enough, you smell even better than my dreams.”

“You dreamt of me?”

“Each night,” Ivar nodded, “Each night I dreamt of you. Of what I would say to you when I came back, of what I would do.”

“And I’m better than your dreams?”

“You are.”

Your smile widened as you giggled, feeling his lips on your neck and you squeezed at his arm, still holding onto him as if he could disappear any moment.

“Ivar?”

“Hm?”

“We made this,” you whispered, making him breathe out a laugh and he pulled back to look down at the tiny bundle, wriggling and kicking at the furs.

“When I saw those falcons, I thought he killed you.”

You frowned and turned your head to see him better, “Killed me?”

His eyes grew almost cold as he fell silent, as if going through what had happened back there, with-

“What happened during…that?”

“Your brother is dead,” he held up the crown and even hearing it made your stomach flip, but you pulled yourself together.

It was either your child’s safety, or Edgard.

And you had made your choice long before Ragnar was even conceived.

“But something happened, when I- he said something. Before I killed him.”

“What?”

“I told him his country would belong to our heirs,” Ivar whispered, “I told him that his kingdom would belong to us, to our heirs. And he wished- he wished for your death. At childbirth. He wished the baby to kill you.”

And all of a sudden, you could feel the hair on the back of your neck standing up. It was nonsense, you knew it was, you were alright and so was the baby, but something just sounded-

Wrong.

Something just felt wrong.

You would remember that, years later. Years and years later, just when both you and Ivar stopped worrying about that cruel wish your brother had made at his last, dying breath, you would remember.

But it would be too late.

Ironic, really. Just like Gala had told you. You would remember that when it was too late.

Through that chaos, you would be the first one to remember that. With your son’s scream of agony in the Great Hall. With one of your daughters’ yelling at the Gods, in the storm outside. With your other daughter, crying just outside the door, holding the newborn baby, trying to hush him.

You would remember.

With Ivar pleading you not to go, not to leave him alone while he held you tight, your vision becoming darker and darker, until the last thing you could feel was his warm touch, through that cold Kattegat always had.

With the flap of falcon wings echoing in your ears.

It wouldn’t take that long for Ivar to follow you.

But neither he, nor you knew it back then.

“I’m fine,” you assured him, entwining your fingers with his, “My brother always wished me dead. You just happened to hear it.”

“Y/N-“

“I’m fine, my beloved. So is the baby. Leave your worries behind, where they belong.”

He nodded slowly, looking at Eitr.

“We’ve done everything you said, it actually worked perfectly,” Ivar told you, “Turns out there were more than those five lords that disliked Edgard- Bjorn even met Bree’s father. And-“ he reached out to touch Ragnar’s hand which instantly wrapped around his finger, “Our child will rule there, when the time comes. Just like he will rule Kattegat.”

“He’s merely a day old and he already has two kingdoms,”

“As we promised.”

“As we promised,” you repeated, leaning in to press a small kiss to Ivar’s lips before caressing his cheekbone and he stole a kiss from you again, making you giggle before he put Edgard’s crown next to Ragnar. Ragnar looked almost distracted if that was possible, his eyes going up to the bright, golden crown before Ivar chuckled,

“You’re already quite the conqueror, baby shark.”

You leaned your head to Ivar’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to himself, and you reached out to run a knuckle over Ragnar’s chubby cheek, his bright eyes –he would have Ivar’s eyes, you were sure of that- focusing on you and he let out a soft coo as Eitr moved on top of the crib, spreading her wings wide as if trying to protect him. Ragnar looked up at Eitr, his small mouth opening and closing in awe.

“Did you hear that my sweet?” you whispered, smiling at him, and making yourself comfortable in Ivar’s arms as he pressed his nose into your hair, kissing the top of your head.

“You’re going to conquer the world, Ragnar.”

The End.

Thank you so much for your amazing support and feedback, and your wonderful art and headcanons, moodboards and oneshots and everything my lovelies,this story wouldn’t be the same without you, I love you so much! Kisses! <3

Special thanks to: @nympha-door-a @theskytraveler @iblogabout-stuff @mamaraptor @vikrone @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @asongofmarvelanddc @not–even-a-real–fan @alicedopey @thorohdamnson @captstefanbrandt @flowers-in-your-hayr @marauderskeeper @badbitsh13 @superwolfchild-fan @mblaqgi @thescarsweleave @marvelsvalhalla @natalielbeauty @pandalandalopalis @alyssiamarierenee @bloodyivar , @eleanorsparkz @illumminated @itsjoshebelbitch @vikingalexthedane @hangirl93 @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @skadithegoddess @geekandbooknerd @supercarricat @sky-daybreak @athroatfullofglass @blushingskywalker @little-froggy @girlwhoisfearless @aikeji @part-time-patronus @actuallyazriel @rhabakoli and lovely anons! You are amazing! <3

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inconvenient-sneezes · 5 years

Text

a continuation of the rocky horror commission from yesterday!

read chapter 1

“Creature of the Night”

Chapter 2: Giving in to the Madness

***

However, the next morning, Frank was not in his bedroom.

Columbia’s daily duties began with rousing Frank from his slumbers, first and foremost. But when she rapped on the door lightly with her knuckles and received no response, Columbia’s throat tightened with nerves.

“Frank?”

There was no response.

Columbia gently, ever so slowly opened the door to his bedroom and was genuinely surprised to see the bed empty. In fact, Frank’s king-sized bed was still made up from the day before. She knew this because she was the one who made it up, every single day.

She stepped back into the corridor and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Frank?”

Her voice reverberated through the castle and her heart sank when there was no response. Well, there was one response.

“Columbia, quiet your racket!” Riff Raff snapped from down the hall. He was scowling, as usual.

“Have you seen Frank lately?”

Riff Raff glared back at her. “No. Master has not visited the kitchen for his morning tea yet.”

Columbia cursed under her breath before turning on her heels. She tore down the staircase, almost falling down the last few steps, and turned the corner toward the basement.

The wooden steps creaked as she quickly descended them. “Frank?”

The silence made her increasingly worried, so much so that she didn’t even knock before entering his treasured lab.

And there he was.

Frank was collapsed on the cold, cement floor of his lab, unconscious but shivering. He was curled up on his side and had apparently tugged his crisp, white lab coat over himself as a means of warmth.

Columbia rushed to his side and placed a delicate hand on his forehead. She wasn’t very surprised when she felt the heat rising from his skin. But she did feel guilty.

“Frank?” She shook his shoulders gently, then harder when he didn’t wake immediately. “Frank!”

His tremendous eyelashes fluttered open. “Oh, hello darling.”

“Frank, why are you on the floor?” Columbia asked, alarmed. She eventually succeeded in tugging him into a sitting position.

Unfortunately, sitting up caused his sinuses to prickle and he snapped forward with two, ticklish sneezes. “Hh’RDSCHOO! Huhhh… h-hah! Hah’SZSHHHOO!”

Frank gasped again, nostrils quivering as he was on the edge of another gut-wrenching sneeze. The feeling quickly dissipated and he sniffed disapprovingly.

“Bless you, love,” Columbia whispered, petting at Frank’s face. “You’ve caught my cold, haven’t you?”

Frank tried to shake his head, but as he did, his plump, red lips stretched into a yawn-turned-sneeze. “HPFSSHSH!” He managed to pinch his nostrils shut, but the sneeze escaped anyway.

“Oh, Frank,” she murmured, helping him stand. “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Columbia, darling, it’s not your fault. My kind are not usually so s-susceptible to suhhh… s-such diseases,” he stammered, quickly placing a forefinger under his trembling nose.

“God, I’m so full of cold,” he snuffled miserably.

Columbia hated seeing him this way.

“Why don’t you lie down? I’ll take you up to your bedroom. I can take care of you, Frank. I can.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want them to see me like this. It’s humiliating.”

She knew by them he meant the others — Riff Raff, Eddie, Magenta — and she understood perfectly. Although, she thought, a lab was not an ideal place to take care of someone suffering from a nasty cold.

“But are you positive? I’m sure I could sneak up there somehow, and we could—”

Frank laughed, a harsh barking sound, thanks to his illness. “Sneak me up there? While I’m a sneezing, sniveling mess?” He scoffed. “I’m disgusting and they’ll all know it.”

“You’re not disgusting,” she argued, taking his hand. “You’re sick.”

He shrugged. “Close ehhh… e-enough.”

“But, I mean, you can’t stay in this drafty old lab overnight. You’ll only get worse. And there’s nowhere for you to sleep!”

“Actually,” he began before coughing weakly into his hand. “Actually there’s a cot in the back room.”

“A cot?”

Frank nodded. “I do sometimes rest here, Columbia.”

She dragged the dusty cot out of a closet into the main lab, per Frank’s request. Surely he’d change his mind and follow her upstairs, into the warmth of his large bed.

“Do you have any blankets?”

Frank opened his mouth to answer her, but snapped his head away to sneeze wetly to the side. “H-huhh… huh! Hh’WRHFFFHH!”

“Bless you,” she said, rubbing his back.

He shivered and nodded. “There are some b-blankets in the corner.”

He felt miserable.

Frank crawled onto the cot, suddenly aware of how weak he felt. Not being able to do exactly what he wanted, when he wanted frightened him. But his fear began to dissipate as he felt Columbia’s comforting touch on his face.

“Hmm. You’re still warm.”

“That’s what a fever does, dearie.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. Please, just lay down.”

Her heart sank as she watched him try to settle himself in the cot. Columbia gently draped a grey afghan over him and stared into his glassy eyes. “You feeling bad?”

Frank laughed sharply. “Oh, well, it’s not like I’ll perish right here.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

He sniffled, rubbing his tickling nose on his wrist. “I just w-wihhh… w-wish my nose didn’t — heh’TSHUHHH! Hep’SHAHHH! — didn’t itch so horribly,” he said, blinking back tears that his sinuses brought to his eyes.

“Oh, baby,” Columbia murmured, kissing the top of his forehead. “You poor thing.”

Frank hated to admit it, because he was usually solidly dominant, but he was starting to enjoy his role as the helpless victim. Seeing Columbia in charge gave him warm, electric feelings, even though he felt achy, sniffly and miserable.

“Huh’RHFFFSSHHHH!” The sneeze ripped through him and some part of Columbia was beginning to enjoy this too.

“Bless you,” she said, slyly kissing him on the tip of his nose.

“C-Columbia,” Frank stuttered, panicked. “D-don’t! My n-nose!”

He took in a large, shuddering gasp before sneezing helplessly into his hands. “I’ve got to— Hh’RRDSSCHHH! H-huh’RFSHHHH!”

She pressed a handkerchief into his trembling hands and he buried his face in it, partly due to his own embarrassment and partly due to his need to blow his nose.

Frank snuffled into it, feeling his cheeks and ears turn red again. Fuck this human emotion called humiliation.

“Ugh, I’m so full of cold,” he complained, lower lip jutting out as he pouted.

Columbia stroked his face and studied it. The earthy tones on his eyelids, his thick, arched brows. She wondered to herself how one being could be so expressive without actively saying anything at all.

“Oh, I know,” she said, not sure what else she could say at this point. I’m sorry?

Frank sat up, sniffling. “Honey, I simply can’t last like this for very much longer.” He scrubbed at the tip of his nose with the palm of his hand, trying to alleviate that infuriating, persistent itch.

While he was distracted, Columbia took her chance. She leaned into him, kissing at his jawbone before eventually finding his lips. And to her relief (and joy), Frank didn’t break away — he welcoming the contact with open arms.

In fact, Frank was thirsty for this romantic connection. It had been far too long since he’d had such contact with another, let alone a human. Transylvanians were much fun, of course — the constant flow of lust, the need for sex, the hunger for it — but humans were much more emotionally raw. And true, unpardoned emotion was something with which Frank sustained himself on.

“Frank,” Columbia moaned, biting at his lower lip.

He grabbed her shoulder, his hand blindly groping for her breast. “Darling, d-don’t stop.”

Unfortunately, he felt his eyes water with the need to sneeze and knew that as he was infected with a horrible headcold, that need would be impossible to stop.

Columbia felt his chest expand — heard his dramatic, surprised gasp — and her heart sank as he shakily pushed her away.

“A-apologies, dearest — hh’ASHHHOO! PSHHHOO!” He sneezed freely to the side in a full-bodied double.

“Bless you,” she said, breathless. He looked so beautiful in this helpless, desperate manner.

Frank was usually so effortlessly composed. Whenever he smirked, she could see hints of brilliant white, and of course his teeth were perfect. Now, his eyes seemed to droop with exhaustion and there were dark circles under his equally dark pupils. His twitching nostrils frequently gave him away and Columbia began to realize that she liked seeming him this way. Not weak per se, but uncomfortable — uncertain, even.

“Oh, I do feel quite disgusting,” Frank said, massaging the bridge of his nose gently. “I’m sorry you have to see me this way, Columbia.”

She shook her head. “Frank, you can’t help it. It’s not your fault.”

He signed, tired of it all suddenly. “You know, I’m going to go upstairs, darling.”

Frank stood up suddenly, towering over his companion, who was still kneeling by his cot. She watched him stand, then noticed him swaying. “Frank?”

His eyes were glazed over and he seemed to be staring out in front of him, at something she couldn’t see. “Frank, look at me.”

Instead, he swayed once more before crumpling to the laboratory’s cold floor.

“Frank!” she shouted, desperately trying to pull him back to his feet.

Upon realizing this would be impossible, Columbia managed to get his unconscious form back into the cot. She felt his forehead, which was unbearably warm.

“Oh, Frank,” she murmured, touching his cheek.

Columbia began removing Frank’s lab coat and clothes until he was clad only in his underwear. She gently unclasped his favorite pearl necklace and set it aside.

Hurrying now, she quickly located the lab’s sink and faucet, and turned it on, letting the cold stream of water wet the cloth she held in her hand. Columbia returned to her love’s side and dabbed at his temple with the cool washcloth before folding it and placing it on his heated brow.

“Frank,” she whispered, trying to rouse him from his sleep. “Frank, please wake up.”

Columbia was brushing his black, unruly curls back from his forehead when he opened his eyes, slowly blinking.

“Columbia?” he croaked, coughing lightly.

She nodded and was surprised to feel tears in her eyes. She obediently blinked them away. “Yes, it’s me. I’m here.”

“What… where am I?”

“You’re in your lab, I— you’re sick,” she stammered, running her thin fingers through his hair. “But it’s alright now. We’re just brining your fever down.”

Frank inhaled shakily, coughing again. “Oh, it hurts. My muscles, they ache.”

“It’s probably the flu,” Columbia told him, stroking his cheek. “You’re alright.”

“I feel horribly cold,” he told her, his teeth chattering. “I’m not fevered, I’m cold.”

Columbia kissed the top of his eyebrow, still touching his cheek gently. “I know. I’ll make it better.”

She felt a shiver course through his body and she suddenly felt guilty. Was this her fault? Columbia continued to touch him, gently as usual, and Frank felt his body light up. It was as if all his nerves were suddenly so alive — so full of life itself — that he could feel every last brush of her fingertips on his skin. Without realizing it, he moaned her name.

“Yes?” she asked, expectantly.

“I wish,” he began, but his breath caught as the tip of her finger accidentally brushed his cold-ridden nose.

“C-Columbia,” he stuttered, sitting up in alarm. “I h-hahh… h-have to— huh’RHHHSSHHOO! Hahhh… h-hahH!”

Frank’s face fell as the sneeze dissipated. “Apologies, love, I thought I still had to…”

He trailed off as the need to sneeze returned full force and Frank turned away with another, drawn-out, torturous sneeze. “H-huh… hehhh… h-hih’HRRISCH!”

He straightened his back, sighing with satisfaction. “There’s sobethig aboud a good sdeeze that feels… electrifying,” he said thickly, sniffling.

“Oh, baby, you sound awful,” Columbia cooed. “You still feel cold?”

Frank nodded, snuffling into the back of his wrist. “I do.”

She wrapped the fuzzy afghan around his shoulders and wasn’t surprised when he shook with another thunderous sneeze.

“Hah’RRSCHOO!”

“Bless you!” Columbia murmured, placing her head in his lap. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

Normally, Frank would tease Columbia until he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, just to provoke her into showing some true emotion. Some emotion that he, oddly enough, envied. But he could tell tonight that his condition was taking some toll on her and Frank sensed she felt… guilty.

He waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t kdow whad you’re talkig about,” Frank said, congested. “If anyone, I’b sure Riff Raff had something to do with this.”

Columbia smiled and laughed lightly. “Maybe.”

She placed her hand innocently on his crotch and then changed her mind, climbing into the cot with him. Normally, two beings wouldn’t be able to fit comfortably on one cot, but Frank’s cot was exceptionally long, given his impressive build, and luckily for Columbia, she was petite enough to fit in with him.

Columbia laid next to him and put her head on his chest. She was so close to him, Frank could smell her scent, even as congested and stuffed up as he was. The smell of lavender and rose water drifted up toward his nostrils, teasing and tickling his already irritated sinuses. He sighed shakily, willing himself not to sneeze and ruin this quiet moment that he didn’t usually get to experience.

She felt the steady rise and fall of Frank’s chest and noticed a hitch — an extra, desperate inhale in — and knew what was coming. But as usual, he tried to warn her.

“B-babe, I have to sdehhh… sd-deeze ahh… agaid,” he told her shakily, the corners of his lips pulling back into a tortured snarl. “H-hihhhh… hh’DSSCHHHHUH!”

“Bless—”

Columbia was interrupted by another hitching gasp from Frank, who did his best to turn his head away from her pleading eyes.

“E-ehh… heh’TDSSCHHHUH!” He snatched the handkerchief and shakily put it up to his quivering nostrils.

To Frank’s surprise, he felt Columbia’s small, soft hand over his, holding the embroidered piece of cloth to his trembling nose, desperate for a reprieve. “H-hahh… ahhH! Hoo.”

He exhaled, somewhat defeated. “Id’s sduck.”

Columbia willed herself not to smile, but did so anyway. “It is?”

Frank nodded, snuffling miserably into the handkerchief. Columbia continued stroking his face and mischievously petted at his red nose. Frank’s nostrils flared at the touch and his eyes opened in panic.

“D-doe, Columbia! D-Dod’t! I’b godda— hehhh… h-hihHH!”

She delicately placed a finger under Frank’s quivering nostrils and give his nose a deliberate rub before pressing up again his nostrils. It felt good to be in control in some way with Frank. He was always so domineering, so in control, that it was empowering to experience their roles, reversed.

“Better?” she asked innocently.

Frank was afraid to move too much, certain he was on the verge of sneezing all over her in what was sure to be a disgusting display. “Y-yes,” he choked out, still fighting the need to sneeze. Damn this cold.

Columbia slowly removed her finger and the pressure she was putting on his pink-tinged nostrils, begging for release.

“Th-thags,” he told her shakily, deeming it finally safe to attempt to breathe through his nose again.

“Of course,” Columbia responded, closing her eyes and leaning down to kiss the tip of his cold-sensitive nose. She opened her eyes to see Frank struggling against a losing battle. His red lips were slightly parted as he gasped, lost in the beginnings of a hitching fit.

Frank’s eyelids fluttered shut against his will as he reared back to sneeze. He sucked in a sharp breath and buried his face into the closest thing to him: the afghan currently draped over his shoulders.

“H-hehh… hih! DSSZZHHHCHOO! Hah... ehhH! TDZSCHHHUH!”

“G-god,” he choked out, in the midst of an intense sneezing fit. “Heh’ESSSZSHOO!”

Columbia’s heart was racing after witnessing quite possibly the most erotic sneezing fit she’d ever seen anyone experience. “Bless you,” she said, sincerely.

Frank was still panting. “Th-thags, love.”

He laid back down, breath still hitching until it was quiet again. He let out a soft sigh that was punctuated with a liquid sniffle. “I’b dot sure how humads deal with this so — hahhhH! — so often,” he said thickly.

Columbia smiled fully, looking up at Frank. “Oh, there are ways to forget how miserable you feel,” she assured him.

“Oh, so the sdudent dow becomes the t-teacher,” Frank stammered, amused. “Columbia, darling, you dever f-fahhh… f-fail to surprise be.”

“Never?” she asked innocently, letting her hand trail down his clenched abdominal muscles, down, down, down to his tight underwear until she allowed herself to stop upon feeling the bulge in his garments.

Frank swallowed, surprised at her touch, and once again found himself gasping for air. How could such a simple touch leave him like this? A sweating, shivering mess, almost powerless to her touch.

He groaned as she worked at him and almost couldn’t believe Columbia had this effect on him. But then again, he wasn’t that surprised. Her fiery red pixie cut was proof enough for him.

Columbia continued to touch him and slipped her hand under the waistband of his underwear. She heard him audibly gasp and assumed it was because of the sheer pleasure he was feeling. He shuddered and she felt his chest rise as his breath began hitching. Oh. It wasn’t from her touching, it was from—

“H-heh’TDSSCHHHUH!” Frank let out a ferocious sneeze that tore through his frame.

He moaned as Columbia continued to pleasure him, then let out another shivery sneeze.

“H-hih’DSSZZHHHCHOO! Ah’TDZSCHHHUH!”

“Bless you,” Columbia told him again, kissing him.

***

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#in which frank has a horrible cold and columbia cares for him #next up in unpopular snz fandoms #snz #snez #snzblr #snezblr #sneezefic #snzfic #snezfic #sneezeblr #sneeze kink #snz kink #rockysnz

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avaquet · 5 years

Text

Ev’s Family

Well, here is Evelyn Lavellan and how she looks before the Conclave is destroyed. But, I talk a lot about her, so why not her family? Especially since her father makes an appearance in my long-fic, and will play a big role later.

Sometimes it helps to know more about the author before delving into these things, don’t worry, you won’t get my life story, far from that. But, I know how things might look, especially here on tumblr and I’m Paranoid.

TL;DR - I am the first one from my father’s side to be born on the mainland. My father, who’s Hawaiian, does have darker skin than both my mother and I. My mother is basically transparent. I came out looking like a copy of my mother because genetics are really fehking weird. Ev’s family line exhibits similar features in that regard, as in Ev looks quite similar to her own mother, which y’all will see shortly.

Also! Fair warning, there are mentions of abuse (because for some sadistic reason I can’t let my OCs have a normal happy childhood)

Here is Evelyn’s mother; Valonna Lavellan. Valonna came from the Kirkwall alienage in search of a better life. She changed her last name and got her vallaslin soon after Clan Lavellan accepted her as part of the family. Valonna has skills in duel-wielding daggers and knows how to keep them hidden from prying eyes, her own parents taught her how to do that. She escaped from the alienage with the help of a human named Evelyn, which inspired her to name her own child down the line.

Valonna found peace in Lavellan, she was good at helping trade with the humans that often came by. Sometimes dwarves. But, she was excellent at bargaining and got to work closely with other members of the clan in doing so. Valonna found herself getting attached to someone who checked in frequently, not a trader himself, but the First of clan Lavellan in training, Taelhen. They became close friends after a while, sharing stories about childhood or the troubles they got into, well Valonna was more of a rebellious child then Taelhen.

Soon, that friendship blossomed another seed in the pot of their relationship. Attraction and romance. They were a cute couple, and many deemed their romance as successful and beautiful. And it was. They shared many laughs and many stories, and were together for about half a decade before finally becoming bond mates. Valonna felt amazing that day, she thought the tradition was beautiful, poetic, symbolic. It was probably the happiest day in her life.

(WARNING)Later, well, Evelyn was born. Though, there was a shift in dynamic. Valonna became more easily irritated, and though Evelyn was planned, it was like Valonna didn’t want to be a mother anymore. She missed Ev’s first steps, first words, first book, first...everything pretty much. And most seconds, too. Valonna focused more and more on her work within the clan as if to escape from home. She became less and less patient and more and more annoyed with her own child. Of course Taelhen had to work, he was First to the clan and had an extremely symbolic and vital role. But he still put more time into raising Ev and caring for her than Valonna did when she was supposed to be watching Ev.

(W)It started off small. The first few months when Ev was an infant, Valonna seemed so much different than what she grew into. She was so happy to be a mother. But then, she started dreading the responsibility. She became irritated, grouchy, angry when Ev cried, though she would still do the responsibility, just not in a kind way. Then she began to ignore Ev for periods of time. Then she left the house more and more. Then came the emotional quips and jabs. Then when Evelyn was about five years old, Valonna got physical. But only once, as Taelhen walked in the moment Valonna struck Ev, and from that moment on Valonna was not welcome around either Ev or Taelhen and later on the Keeper exiled her. Though, Valonna found another clan, even if they were reluctant to accept her.

(W)She does regret what she did, she didn’t realize how far she had fallen. But the damage she caused, was unforgivable to Taelhen, and would drastically affect Evelyn down the line. With one hit, Valonna caused much physical damage but a shit ton more emotional. It was a backhanded swing in the form of a fist, over something so small as Ev accidentally looking in a sweets jar. Ev was betrayed, severely hurt and afraid, bleeding from the lip and back of her head as the force of the blow caused her head to knock a corner. A bruised jawbone, a black eye, welts, and a concussion. Not to mention the absolute hole in Ev’s heart, where Ev said to Taelhen, “Paba, my heart is crying.”

Valonna was never seen by Clan Lavellan again. Or heard from. Though, she does live in another clan far, far away.

And here is Evelyn’s father, Taelhen Lavellan. A direct descendant of Lavellan themselves. A mage, the First to clan Lavellan when he came of age. He is the child of Lavellan and an island clan, bringing the two clans closer together and sharing more of traditions. The two clans visited each other quite often as well. As one may notice three prominent features of Taelhen, he has vitiligo, heterochromia, and a Mallen streak in his hair. (A/N: this was photoshopped, I am unaware of any mods that allow these, also that dark spot in his ear I just noticed and might’ve been an accident during the photoshop process)

See, now we must go into Clan history. (HC) Before Taelhen was of age, or old enough to remember, his father was the Keeper of the clan. Father, came from Lavellan, while the mother came from the island clan (A/N: I’m still trying to figure out a name for the clan please be patient with me). Though, his father wasn’t a very good leader to say the least, and after a while realized this and left the clan without a trace. Which was irresponsible to say the least. Taelhen’s mother was not a mage, but a clan hunter, and so Deshanna as she was First, became Keeper. When Taelhen got older, his magical prowess became more and more defined. He also had an eagerness to learn, and is extremely patient. Meditative one might say. So, when he came of age, he was announced as First. His mother, sadly, passed away during a hunting accident about a year after Ev was born.

His demeanor is calm and sympathetic. He is in love with life and the world and he can find beauty in the smallest of creatures, like an ant. He is also in gratitude of said creatures and plants. He’s nurturing, caring, and also powerful. Because of his collectiveness, he doesn’t often panic, but he does think fast. His patience rewarded him as he reached the pinnacle of his magical power, being as strong as his personal connection to the Fade allows. In battle, he seems to show no emotion, but being hit by his magic would be akin to a dragon falling on your face. Of course, his judgment, despite thinking fast, might not be the best at times. Especially when he has to think fast.

He fell in love with Valonna after spending much time together, as he caught himself gazing into her eyes and internal thoughts being just how wonderful of a person she is. He would describe it as a fairy-tale. Though, Valonna was the one the initiated the relationship because he can be quite shy. They got bonded and he would say that it was one of the happiest days in his life.

the happiest day of his life was when he held Ev for the first time in his arms. He did his best to be there for her when Valonna refused to. Taelhen was so concerned with Ev, that he didn’t quite see what was happening to Valonna. Though, after a while he did seem to fall out of love with Valonna due to her not helping and distance. It was the most stressful time of his life, juggling parenthood and his role in the clan. The only reason he kept Valonna around was for the minuscule help she did give, though he didn’t know exactly what she was doing. He had a gut feeling. And he followed that gut feeling which led him to walking in on Valonna striking Ev.

He was filled with rage and was actually about to strike Valonna down, but his concern for Ev was much more. Taelhen forced Valonna out of the house and went straight to work on caring for Ev. Using magic to bring potions and poultices, bandages and ointments from around the home. Using magic to heat and cool the wet rag he offered. Using magic to make Ev laugh. Consoling her, calming her down. Talking to her and repeating over and over again, “It’s not your fault, Ev.” Though, he would feel guilty for not seeing things sooner for a long time.

He needed help raising Ev because of how demanding things could be, but Ev was getting older now so she actually accompanied him when he was doing his work. Which got Ev close to Deshanna and she became more of a mother to her. They got to help and watch her grow, they got to witness her magic. They even got to see her Dreamer abilities come out, which surprised both of them because Dreamers are exceptionally rare. Ev’s magic grew and grew over the years, and she had an affinity to learning, puzzles, and adventure. Ev loved nature, and art, and general romanticism. Which, sounded familiar. Though, she had a stronger connection to the Fade and could be more powerful than pretty much everyone else in the clan. That’s when both Taelhen and Deshanna decided that Ev would be First, Taelhen had happily accepted the position of Second. Though, when Ev joined the Inquisition, he would return to his position as First. A lot of jumbling happened.

Well, that’s Ev’s family! Blood family anyways, tis quite small as she’s an only child and never really got to meet her grandparents. But her chosen family and Clan Family well...is quite large. I like to HC that Lavellan is over 100 strong with over 50 mages. And despite the trauma she had when she was five, she did end up living a pretty wonderful childhood. Though, the trauma still bleeds into her daily life, just not as bad as when she was younger. Ev is recovering! And she was loved and supported in her clan just as much as she gave love and support to them.

#Evelyn Lavellan #Taelhen lavellan #valonna lavellan

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creacherkeeper · 3 years

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AAAAA SAME ANON AND I LOVE UR THOUGHTS ON THIS AU SO MUCH!!!! hskdhdkdbd PLEASE ignore this if u don’t want to talk about this au of course, but honestly i only have more !!!!! about it with every piece of info. like the line about fabian and riz’s jaeger being “unstoppable. almost.” and about how adaine joins the fray specifically bc they’re down and adaine and aelwyn are the only ppl who can fill in their place right now. also how kristen is drift compatible with everyone im!!

NO NO NO IM SO HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!! like pacific rim really blessed us by not only being an AMAZING movie but also the best au fodder of all time??? god pacific rim au my beloved <3

some additional stuff because i cant stop:

i think ayda and adaine are totally drift compatible, but never tested together, as ayda only joined the program to pilot with fig

penelope, dayne, and ragh actually triple piloted until fig signed up. everyone thought it was better to separate penelope and dayne because they were ... not always team players when together. but after it came out everything that had been happening between dayne and ragh, that decision was heavily regretted. ragh got ... a lot of counseling after dayne was kicked out. when he was moved to combat trainer, he got a lot happier and became good friends with tracker, who'd been on base long enough to see everything go down

ayda and aelwyn actually knew each other in undergrad. aelwyn became friends with her mostly for strategic purposes, because she was the daughter of the head of the jaeger program and aelwyn wanted to build jaegers. ayda became friends with her because they were both the youngest in the STEM program and she was desperate for someone she could relate to, at least a little. they got along okay but didn't really keep in touch after graduation. they didn't start getting closer until aelwyn became a pilot, because then they COULD actually relate to each other, as scientists-turned-fighters

ayda still found out she was autistic through jawbone, once she finished school and came to base to study kaiju. she opened up to him about how hard it was to relate to her peers, and he was like kiddo youre probably autistic?? like over half of the scientists here are?? and she was like. OH. after everythings over and fig goes back to being a musician, she donates a lot of her touring profits to autistic-led advocacy groups because like. she's literally felt what it's like to live with an autistic brain, and it makes her the biggest ally of all time (and ayda being a very prominent autistic scientist AND pilot actually does like. SO MUCH for autism acceptance. she frequently gives lectures on fig's touring routes)

after they close the breach, fabian gets into a huge blowout fight with bill. cause bill makes his money by selling kaiju parts, so without the kaiju, he doesn't have a job. and by that point fabian has had enough distance and experience that he's like. i would have died for you but i fucking made a name for myself that was better than anything you've ever tried to do, now i get to live for me. and even though he wasn't expecting it, bill actually completely accepts and supports that

yeah so pok actually died cause he got eaten by a kaiju after drifting with one using the pons system he invented. its extremely difficult to hear but riz is also like. that is the most badass thing ive ever fucking heard oh my god (they name the neuroscience program at riz's college after pok. sklonda starts law school there the year after they close the breach)

kristen literally proposes to tracker the day after they close it, barely conscious, with a giant hole in her chest, from her hospital bed. everyone is like. my dude. tracker thinks its extremely romantic

(they end up adopting a bunch of kids who were orphaned because of kaiju attacks)

gorgug goes to college and becomes a high school social studies teacher. zelda runs a local gym. they have an extremely quiet life and are happy to, most of the time, not be noticed or bothered. every once in a while an extremely nerdy kid will recognize gorgug's PARENTS as jaeger mechanics and completely ignore gorgug and zelda thinks its hilarious

after they close the breach, the abernant parents reach out to BOTH aelwyn and adaine to ask them to come back home to visit and be celebrated. and theyre like. mmmm fuck that actually?? but adaine does have a BIT of an existential crisis cause shes like OKAY WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO WITH MY LIFE NOW?? they actually end up getting a little apartment together somewhere and aelwyn pays the bills as an engineer making advanced prosthetics. she encourages adaine to just try out as much as possible, and she takes a ton of classes at the community college, the community center, and at various local businesses. but its actually jawbone who inspires her to go back for another degree and become a psych researcher. she makes waves in the trauma and ptsd field

theyre all pretty happy that kalvaxis, category iv, and nightmare, category v, got blown to hell at the bottom of the ocean

#fantasy high #dimension 20 #the bad kids #OKAY I REALLY HAVE TO STOPPPP #YALL STOP ENCOURAGING ME IM TOO INVESTED IN THIS AU #(dont stop i love it)#pacific rim au

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tomes-of-fenwyrm · 2 years

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August Reading Wrap Up:

The Neverending Story - Michael Ende

5/5: Full of life and imagination! This encompasses everything I expect a fairy tale to be and it fulfilled every wish I could’ve had for one. The first half was delightful and I enjoyed seeing a more fleshed out version from the movie’s and the latter half was surprisingly introspective. I love how it’s possible to read this at a young age and still enjoy it but upon rereading as an adult, you’ll find a completely new layer to relate to. It’s a book that grows with you and I think that’s beautiful.

The Penderwicks in Spring - Jeanne Birdsall

4/5: I didn’t enjoy this one as much as Point Mouette but it was still extremely comforting. I enjoyed specifically seeing Batty’s perspective on things and the kind of way she’s dealt with family trauma. It felt raw. It felt real. It reminded me of how those feelings are so strong as a kid.

The Penderwicks at Last - Jeanne Birdsall

3/5: I hate to say the series ended on a sour note but....it did a little bit. It wasn’t terrible, it just didn’t have that flavor I come to expect from these books. Most of the characters didn’t feel like they were acting like themselves and honestly the story itself was kind of boring. There were a lot of issues I had with the story direction. Jane still remains my favorite though. If I reread this series again, I’ll stick to the first three or four.

Parable of the Sower - Octavia E. Butler

5/5: I’m surprised I ending up liking this as much as I did! This was recommended by a friend and even though I’m not the biggest apocalyptic fiction person, I gave it a go. It’s shockingly realistic for when it was written, and it’s easy to see how our reality could easily fall into this kind of corruption if we don’t try to stop it. Lots of good themes, I liked the character development. It felt personal when you’d hear characters give their own personal accounts of what life has been like for them and it helped me feel like I was really getting to know them. It was extremely dark and I had to take frequent breaks. It’s important information though, so worth it. It ended with a message of hope, and I like that the most.

Parable of the Talents - Octavia E. Butler

3/5: Then this happened. Maybe I had a case of world exhaustion going straight to this from Sower but honestly, I just didn’t like this one. It felt a bit repetitive and most of the themes of how terrible the state of things is, was already established in the first book. I also felt like the format was kind of unnecessary unless you wanted to take that perspective from the beginning. The characters also felt different and I just can’t like anyone. And no one likes any one else either. There’s very few real human connection in the book an it just feels like automatons walking around. There’s also so much death and gore that I just began to feel desensitized to it. It was also much longer than the first and it felt so extreme. I just wasn’t feeling this one. I feel like the first book was solid, said what it needed to say and could have been left at that.

Sandman Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 - Neil Gaiman

5/5: Stunning universe! I fell in love with everything! The characters, the stories, and the art! Absolutely fantastic but it should come as no surprise from a author like Neil Gaiman. I read the first volume in about a day and I was so fully immersed, I cried multiple times. I’m excited to read the next two volumes soon.

Persuasion - Jane Austen

5/5: Another absolute favorite book of mine. This one is a quiet love story. The romance comes from the smallest of glances, the constant, quiet longing from each person...it’s beautiful. Despite the size, it’s packed with story and characters that feel real and developed. Also coming into a story where the two main characters already have a history is genius. I’m rambling but this has to be one of my favorite Austens.

Cain’s Jawbone - Edward Powys Mathers

Unrated: This is indeed a book. Yes. I’ve posted about this a bit on my main account but I’ve been so inconsistent at solving it. I did read the entire thing through though, so I’m giving myself a point. Step one is a success!

The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller

3/5: This was a disappointment to me as well. It was fine. Just that. Everyone raves about this one and I’m probably missing something (a heart?) but I just wasn’t feeling this one either. Felt a bit wooden to me and since I already knew what was going to happen, I just didn’t feel like weeping, you know? There was a few scenes I thought were written really prettily but otherwise, I just kind of felt bored half way through. It also feels very one sided somehow? Patroclus really adores the way Achilles does...anything really.. and Achilles....thinks Patroclus is neat? I never feel like their attraction matches energy at all. I’ll be trying Circe sometime soon, so I hope I like it a bit better. This was still worth a read though.

Horrorstor - Grady Hendrix

3/5: This was also just fine? I liked the beginning the most. I didn’t get as much comedy as I was expecting although I really like the furniture descriptions for each page. I did listen to an audio book so I don’t know if a physical copy would help with immersion. I was also unaware that Grady Hendrix is known for his gory imagery so imagine my surprise...(I also had hope that you were a good person Basil, I’m annoyed.) Over all, it just felt drawn out. Still kind of fun to listen to while doing chores.

11 Books Read This Month!

Mini Update:

You may be noticing a lack of a Rory Gilmore challenge book for the last few months. This is because I’ve found so many other books I want to read, that I just haven’t had time for it. At this point, I think the challenge has served it’s purpose which was, really, to get me back into reading. It was in case I felt like I had nothing to read, I could glance over the list and choose something. Right now, I feel like I’m fully back into my groove pre-slump and I’m almost overwhelmed with how many I could read. Which is perfect. :)

I’m going to attempt to be a little more organized (and hopefully more professional) with this blog and other related socials in the coming months. I’d like to delve into Instagram and Tiktok a little more and have a consistent upload schedule, so keep your eye out for new content!

#august wrap up #tomes of fenwyrm #books #wrap up

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your-dietician · 3 years

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What Happened When the PetNet Smart Pet Feeder Went Out of Business

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/business/what-happened-when-the-petnet-smart-pet-feeder-went-out-of-business/

What Happened When the PetNet Smart Pet Feeder Went Out of Business

The Amazon and PetCo-backed startup PetNet sold a WiFi-connected pet feeder controlled using an app.

When a failed acquisition forced the company out of business in 2020, customers were left with useless hardware.

An analysis by Insider founder that of 33 wearable or connected home startups leading the industry in 2015, only 12 sold products that are actively supported today.

See more stories on Insider’s business page.

Allen Sampsell knew something was up when his cats started to act out. Freya, a “chonker” born without a tail, and May, a younger tortoiseshell with all of her appendages, were hungry. Sampsell had no idea how many days or hours the duo had gone without eating.

“My cats very obviously kept acting like they weren’t getting fed,” said Sampsell, who works on an Air Force base near Omaha and travels frequently for his job.

Normally, such daily business as feeding the cats went off without a hitch. For the last few years, Sampsell had used the PetNet SmartFeeder, an $150 Internet of Things device which dropped a set amount of kibble into a feeding bowl based on a schedule set using a smartphone app.

But in spring 2020, the feeder started to go offline. Then PetNet asked for more money. In a letter to customers last May, the company said that anyone who didn’t pay a $30 annual subscription fee would no longer have a working cat feeder.

“I am not even sure if people actually fell for that,” said Sampsell, who opted against the subscription. “And then they folded up shop completely.”

From doorbell cameras and smart locks to fitness trackers and smart glasses, Americans are increasingly dependent on internet-connected devices that rely on software and servers to perform basic functions. But as early venture capital funding runs out, and business plans fall through, many of these startups are forced to sell their assets or shut down entirely, leaving consumers with closets and junk drawers filled with beautifully designed but useless hardware. Worse, because many of these connected devices are designed to handle essential aspects of household life, their sudden demise can create all sorts of problems and headaches.

Even the most well funded of IoT startups have failed, including the $3 billion fitness tracker company Jawbone, which shut down in 2017 after struggling to pay its vendors. Others shut down after getting acquired, like the startup North, which stopped supporting Focals, its $600 augmented reality glasses, when Google bought the company in June 2020. Of 33 wearable or connected home startups leading the industry in 2015, just 12 sold products that are actively supported today, an Insider analysis found.

In some cases, unsupported IoT devices, including the PetNet feeder, Jawbone fitness bands and the smart food scale Orange Chef, are still being sold through online retailers like Amazon and Walmart, which give no indication that the hardware won’t be able to connect to the app required to use the product. Amazon and Walmart did not respond to requests for comment about why they are continue to sell internet connected devices that will no longer work as they’re supposed to.

Though PetNet was just one small company among many, I had personal reasons for uncovering why it failed. Like Sampsell, my PetNet cat feeder had stopped working. My cat Dewey was waking me up at the crack of dawn for a meal that she would normally get automatically. She was hungry. I was tired. That’s when I called PetNet CEO Carlos Herrera.

“The hardware was the Trojan horse”

By the time PetNet sent the email asking for subscription revenue, the company was already in a tailspin.

The startup released the second generation of its cat feeder in January 2018 but the feeder had trouble connecting to the internet. The issue, Herrera said, was with one of its vendors which stopped supporting a key piece of software right when the pet feeder shipped out to customers.

Reports about PetNet’s connectivity issues circulated, which hurt its sales. On top of it all, PetNet had taken on substantial debt from that same vendor to cover its supply chain costs.

“One hand is washing the other with poisoned water,” Herrera told me over the phone one day this June, a year after the company ceased operations.

Herrera had dealt with hardware problems before, but hardware was never supposed to be the heart of PetNet’s business model.

He started the company in Los Angeles in 2012 with two friends, one who he met while playing soccer as a kid growing up in Columbia, and the second who he knew from their job building sensors in the defense sector post 9/11.

Their idea was to sell pet food to cat and dog owners using information entered into the PetNet app. The automatic pet feeder was a way to get people to share that data.

“The hardware was the Trojan horse to get the online food business going,” said Bob Kron, a sales and marketing consultant for startups, who ran sales for PetNet in its early days.

PetNet raised a couple million dollars in seed funding through an accelerator and early investors like Grishin Robotics, but Herrera struggled to get the support of large venture capital funds.

He had better luck with strategic investors and in 2015, PetNet raised $4 million, including money from Amazon’s Alexa Fund, followed by a $16 million Series A in 2016 led by PetCo.

Crystal Cox/Insider

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Crystal Cox/Insider

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Crystal Cox/Insider

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The strategic investments brought creditiblity to PetNet but the deals had strings attached. Most of the money from Amazon went toward integrating the device with Amazon Alexa, Herrera said, which meant hiring someone to do that work. (A spokesperson for Amazon said that integration with Alexa is not a requirement for Alexa Fund investments.)

The investment from PetCo came with a partnership deal that required PetNet to use PetCo to deliver the food that it sold through its app.

By 2015, PetNet had grown to around 50 employees with big plans to expand the application, but hardware problems derailed those plans.

Despite its sleek exterior, the first version of the feeder had major design flaws. Customers used a wide array of kibbles, and some brands of food contained oils that eroded the rubber router that moves food through the machine. Sometimes the kibble pieces were so big that they got stuck altogether.

The money Herrera had earmarked for new projects was reallocated toward remanufacturing the hardware. PetNet addressed the kibble problem by offering its customers a free ramp, which went under the feeder and tilted it at an angle so the food would fall out more easily.

While a software company can fix a bug and redeploy its product overnight, even small issues with hardware products can take half a year to fix, Herrera said. “It means you have to repay for everything.”

For every unit sold, PetNet lost around $10, Herrera said. For every ramp it gave away, it lost another $15. Herrera said he only took a salary one of eight years the company was in business.

“The problem with early stage startups is that you’re always going to be tight with cash,” Herrera said.

By 2018, PetNet was ready to raise more money, and Herrera had his hopes set on a $100 million Series B. But his investors were wary and wanted PetNet to find an acquirer instead.

The startup got close to sellings its business in August 2019 after 18 months of negotiations, but the deal fell through, Herrera said. Soon after, the startup ran out of cash.

“Ultimately, the product/market fit was not there,” PetNet investor Alexey Alexanov, a partner at Cabra VC, said in an email. “Not enough pet owners purchased the SmartFeeder for the company to gain from the potential economies of scale in the supply chain.”

The PetNet feeder is still for sale on Amazon, even though the company is winding down and the product doesn’t work.

Becky Peterson/Amazon

Most consumer IoT companies disappear

Julie Ask is a vice president and principal analyst for Forrester where she researches mobile technologies. But it’s her husband who bought the wifi connected teapot and door handles, and notably, a wifi-connected air filter.

“These are expensive one-off products that entertain my husband,” Ask said. “I don’t know what we’re going to do if it goes out of business. I don’t know where we’re going to get the filters.”

Ask said she’s seen a shift in business models over the last decade as hardware companies adapt to the realities of the market. Like PetNet, most device startups offer their services for free in an attempt to win over customers, with plans to charge for premium services once the customer is hooked, and then eventually to monetize data garnered from the device.

A Ring doorbell in 2019. Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

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Internet of Things. Alex Wong/Getty Images

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Two models of Google smart speakers, including the smaller Nest, on display. Matthew Horwood/Getty Images

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“Few companies go into this thinking they’re going to make money on hardware,” Ask said. “All of this data is generated to develop some kind of context that feeds insights that lets these companies know more about their ultimate customer or, in this case, a pet.”

Venture funding into connected devices has increased over the last few years, though there are fewer companies in the space raising money.

In 2017, IoT companies, which include consumer goods as well as products in healthcare, infrastructure and connected cars, raised $6 billion in equity funding across 788 deals, according to CB Insights. In 2020, IoT companies raised $10.2 billion across just 465 deals.

“Devices are a really, really hard business. And so a lot of them go under, even if the product is amazing,” Ask said.

PetNet’s product and brand went to creditors

Sampsell has become somewhat of a celebrity among PetNet customers thanks to his YouTube channel AllensCloud, where he posts instructional videos with simple tech projects, including two videos on “hacking” the PetNet feeders.

In the videos, Sampsell gives instructions on replacing the PetNet electronics with a wifi connected board that lets people control the feeder directly with another app. Collectively, the videos have 5,400 views.

The jury-rigged feeder works well, and it still sits in Sampsell’s kitchen in Nebraska. “I’ve been using it ever since I first put it in there,” he said. “I have no plans of buying a different one.”

Winding down the company has been rough for Herrera. He knows customers are angry, and many have told him as much directly. PetNet can’t file for bankruptcy because that would cost money, and there is none, but he plans to personally pay back each person who paid for a $30 subscription once he has the means, he said.

Dewey reposes in the time between her nap and her meal.

Crystal Cox/Insider

The defunct PetNet feeder is still for sale on Amazon and Walmart.com, though Herrera said he gave up control over the product and brand to creditors. The app is down and the PetNet website now redirects to a pet blog called Pet Keen, which posts tips for pet owners. It’s not clear who runs it.

For Herrera, there’s no question that consumer hardware startups are a dead end. He doesn’t think venture capitalists want to invest in the space and he no longer thinks they should.

But the experience hasn’t turned him off to startups. He’s working on some new projects, none of which involve manufacturing.

“Most startups fail, so that’s just the world we choose to be in,” Herrera said.

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