#fergus fall

[brennacedria]

Dragon Age players, especially players who marry a Cousland to Alistair:

Do you think your Warden's status strengthens or weakens Alistair's claim to the throne? I ask because of how high Cousland's status would influence much of the Landsmeet. Many of the nobles might see it as a strong family supporting the royal family... but many others, I feel, would see it as a way to seize power from that Theirin lineage.

Oh, before I forget: We are not discussing any other characters potentially weakening/"stealing" the throne for their own family here. I do not want to see comments in the notes about similar arguments with other characters even though male Couslands could easily face a similar argument as female Couslands. This is about bastard princes only.

ANYWAY, I repeat my question, because thoughts and headcanons about this are something I really am curious about:

(If you haven't played Origins, please use the "non-Cousland player" options the same way someone who primarily plays another origin would.)

All reblogs are appreciated, especially with ideas and headcanons about Alistair and the Cousland Warden. Reblogs with commentary as tags or in the body of a post are both great in this situation, I think.

[widgits]

a drawing i did for my nathaniel/cousland political marriage au (after nate and luce do a little revenge)

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 3/? Rating: T Warnings: None Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read it on AO3

--

Cloudreach, 9:29 Dragon

The Couslands ate breakfast together every morning, by tradition. Compared to the dinners in the great hall it was an informal event taken in the library, at a round, walnut table draped with embroidered linen, with the morning light streaming through windows that looked north over the sea. After setting the places, the servants retreated to have their own meal, and, left to the privacy of each other’s company, the family helped each other to platters of eggs, cooked meat, and fruit. The dogs – Bryce’s Mallard and Rosslyn’s Cuno, still with the gangliness of puppyhood – also had their place, tucking into their own breakfasts on leather mats laid out to save the priceless Rivaini carpets from the ravages of slobber and grease.

If not for their grand surroundings, the Laurel motifs decorating the furniture and the rich weave of their clothes, they might have been any ordinary family, with ordinary squabbles. The battle on this particular morning raged around Oren, who had inherited the strong Cousland jaw and his mother’s onyx-dark eyes. He sat high in his cushioned chair, digging through his bowl of porridge for the dried apple slices hidden in its depths and ignoring the entreaties from both his parents to behave.

“I’m three-and-a-half,” he insisted, when Oriana dipped her own spoon into the bowl to try and coax at least one proper mouthful.

Across the table, Eleanor levelled a disapproving stare at her grandson. “When your father was three-and-a-half he knew the benefit of eating everything on his plate,” she told him. “How do you think he got to be so tall?”

Oren’s eyes went wide, turning on his mother. “Is it true?”

“Yes, pequeño,” Oriana replied, ever-patient. “We want you to grow big and strong.”

“And Aunt Rosslyn too?”

Rosslyn glanced up from her book. She had taken to bringing one to breakfast in recent months to keep her own company while the rest of the family got on with their business – there was no one else to talk to, after all, and if she kept herself occupied with such volumes as The Travels of Ebullient Ser Claremore of Stannis it distracted her from the reason why misery gnawed at her like a mouse, stopped her dwelling on the fact that it was her own bloody fault no letters had come from Denerim since the Landsmeet.

“All Couslands eat their porridge,” she replied mildly. “Haelia and Mather started the tradition when they drove the werewolves out of the North.”  

A white lie, but the renowned twins, heroes even among the famed and fabled ranks of Cousland ancestors, had held Oren’s imagination like little else could since he heard the story, the illuminations in the family book weaving him tales of wild chases through the forest and daring battles waged against fang and claw.

“I wish you wouldn’t read at the table,” her mother chided, as if she had only just noticed.

“Aldous wants me to broaden my horizons.”

Her father’s eyebrow lifted, amused. “I doubt Aldous meant for your studies to get in the way of your table manners, Pup.”

“It’s not like anyone’s here,” Rosslyn pointed out. “And besides –”

The door to the library opened, cutting off the rest of her protest to admit a human page in a woollen surcoat of deep Laurel blue.

“Calmett?” Bryce turned at the intrusion.

Calmett bowed. “Forgive me, Your Lordship, but a letter just arrived by courier. I thought you’d want to read it.” He offered over a square envelope of thick, cream-coloured paper on a silver tray and Rosslyn saw the flash of a scarlet seal on the back when her father took it.

“‘To His Lordship, Bryce Cousland’,” he read.

Fergus, who was closer, peered at the direction. “That’s rather formal for Alistair.”

The air squeezed from her lungs. She did not miss the curious glance her brother sent her across the table, nor how Oriana’s brow furrowed; it would be one thing for the king to write to the teyrn himself, formal and aloof, but Alistair knew them as well as family and had long since grown out of the shrinking need to call his foster-father by his title.

Cheeks warming, she dropped her gaze to her plate of half-eaten jam toast, though not quite fast enough to avoid catching her mother’s eye. It was a steady look, a shared confidence; it reminded her of the noble’s mask she had been taught, the blank face required to stare down your worst enemy and make them flinch first. She straightened her shoulders. As her father read the letter she watched with a face of mild, polite interest, taking in the downward pull of his brows as he went on, the way the corner of his mouth flattened into the greying edges of his beard.

“Well? What does it say?” Fergus asked.

Startled, Bryce looked up. “He’s being sent to Starkhaven. From Denerim. King Cailan wishes him to be an aide to the ambassador.”

Fergus clicked his tongue. “Surely Cailan would have allowed him to travel from Highever if he had asked.”

“It isn’t for you to second-guess the king,” Bryce chided, his voice unusually severe. “There might be any number of reasons why the ship left berth at Denerim.”

For a moment, the table stewed in the tension chafing between the teyrn and his eldest child, until Fergus turned his head away with a nod and a sigh and picked up his spoon again. Unnoticed by either of them, Rosslyn frowned at the paper in her father’s hands, the guilt that churned in her stomach for driving Alistair away aclash with a growing anger at his lack of loyalty, his cowardice. Ever since he had first gone to Denerim, no correspondence had ever come back to Highever without at least a small note addressed to her. Did he think no one would notice the change? Did he fear her so much, or put such value on his injured pride that he would shield himself behind the king’s will to neglect his duty to her family?

“May I see the letter?” she asked.

Her father gave her a long look, but passed it to her all the same, as gently as if the paper itself might bite. Curbing her annoyance, she unfolded it and scanned the lines. The unmistakeable scrawl that Aldous had tried so hard to smooth out in their lessons was unchanged, the words short, signed at the bottom with a formality out of place for the person she knew. Despite this, glimmers of humour shone through the stiff, careful style, pulling a traitorous twitch from her lips as she read:

Your Lordship –

I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing you this news in a letter instead of coming to tell you in person. King Cailan has requested that I go to Starkhaven to assist the ambassador there, and since he requires no delay, I’ll be sailing from Denerim as soon as the ship is loaded and the tide is with us. It’s likely I’ll pass by Highever at the same time this letter reaches you – just in case, I’ll wave from my cabin and keep my eyes towards the castle.

If all goes well and I don’t make a complete fool of myself stepping off the ship at journey’s end, it may be some time before I can return to Ferelden, and so this is – for now – a farewell. This is a great opportunity for me to ‘cut my diplomatic teeth’, as my brother keeps on telling me, but I could not leave without at least writing to thank you for everything you have done for me. Without your kindness I don’t know where I would have been by now, but it certainly wouldn’t be here, and I will be forever grateful for that. I hope in return I’ll be able to do you proud.

In my own hand,

Alistair Theirin

It took two days for a courier to take a message from Denerim along the coast, maybe less if the relay used good horses, but half a day less still to cover the distance by water. He would be out on the open sea by now, with Ferelden a smudge of green on a distant horizon.

Starkhaven. It was a place she knew by reputation and court gossip more than anything else. Nate had spoken of it well enough since leaving to become a squire to one of the knights there, and in his own quiet way had painted a picture of exotic markets and gilded palaces merry with the splash of fountains. At least he would be a familiar face to help Alistair orient himself, such a long way away from home.

She wished he had written to her.

[chaddavisphotography]

Fergus Falls Regional Treatment Center in Fergus Falls, Minnesota.

[alexjcrowley]

Are we really going to pretend Takin Over The Asylum doesn't have a pitch that smokes 80% of Netflix original series

[tipsypixel-sims]

The next big thing Finley wanted to tackle was Pinaccle Peaks' power supply. And she knew just the Sim who could help her!

"Sure I know how to build a wind turbine! I'm gonna run some calculations to determine how many we're gonna need. You're also gonna have to build an electrical substation. With material costs only... yes... around 20.000§ should do..." - Fergus was already drawing the blueprints in his mind.

Together with their aspiring city planner the three of them startet the planning-process.

Caleb: "Are you sure three turbines will produce enough energy for all of the residents?"

Fergus: "Of course. It was me who did the math, Caleb. I'm sure."

Fergus: "When choosing the building grounds it's important that it's somewhere we can easily add more wind turbines as our population grows. I'm sure next year we're gonna need chaging stations for electrical cars as well, I'm currently working on a prototype."

Finley: "Mhm, sure... Wait! Where are you working on this prototype? Are you paying attention to fire-protection measures?!"

Okay, next project: firesafe researchfacilities.

Finley: "I appreciate your help Fergus, but do you really think a space suit is necessary to build the wind turbines?"

Fergus: "Not really, but I thought I might as well ask!"

Finley: "Okay, well It's a No then."

With fall coming to an end so did the construction of the windfarm and electrical substation. The town funds were pretty much depleted, but everybody was happy to finally have more electricity than what their rooftop solar and photovoltaic cells were producing.

[xfindingtrouble]

“ hey, look at me… “ // eleanor to ellis! QAQ

Ellis hates the way his shoulders shake, the extremities of his emotions hard to swallow. this always seemed to happen when they took him places, important events were the best place for his dramatics after all. it was no secret that Ellis Cousland was easy to rile up & he was almost sure he had overheard staff taking bets on how long it would take for him to storm off from dinner. he hoped they lost all the coin in the betting pool, as he had been dismissed instead.

He had promised to stay in line, standing in for Fergus as he could not come with their parents. Oriana had just given birth & it was enough of an excuse to keep Fergus close to home. it had been all good fun until the ( horribly stupid ) lord of the castle had made a comment remarking Fergus' absence, poking at Ellis' faulty table manners. it had put him on edge, ready to jump at the first opportunity provided to tear into him. Which he had done promptly, with little hesitation. One misstep in a political half-truth had been all ellis needed to call the man a liar in his own home. A long, tense silence was all he was granted before being asked to return to his room, like a misbehaved child.

In hindsight, he had been too impetuous, his heart had gotten the best of him... there was a reason he avoided these sorts of things, after all. He was better at books than people, stories & history were more his forte. Ellis had made little progress getting back to his room, desperately fighting the urge to turn around & continue barking insults at their host. His mother's voice is enough to ground him, for a moment. he feels stupid, using his palm to wipe the tears from blue eyes. only when his lungs stop burning does he find his voice again, dragging it up a too-tight throat.

" I can't, I can't, " maybe he sounds too desperate. maybe he's being dramatic. his feelings are too big for his chest, causing each breath that passed through his lungs to burn. If he looked at her now he was sure he would slide out of his skin, leaving only a slush of shame where her son had stood only moments before.

If he didn't look at her, he could remain in this terrible limbo where his actions were not quite real yet. It would have probably gone better if his Mabari had taken his place at dinner instead. When he finally gives into his mother's direction, he meets her gaze with a poorly timed joke. He can't quite crack a smile, " Next time, take Fergie. At least he'll keep his elbows off the table. "

[potatoesandsunshine]

summer queen/winter queen when i tell you it will change the world...

[autotrails]

American Auto Trail-Northern Pacific Railway (Fergus Falls to Henning MN)

American Auto Trail-Northern Pacific Railway (Fergus Falls to Henning MN) https://youtu.be/yEYUfffOL5Q This American auto trail explores the route of the Northern Pacific Railroad, Fergus Falls Branch, from Fergus Falls to Henning, Minnesota.

[coffeecupandcorgi]

Saw your tags on the Fergus Falls post! You're right, most of the out buildings are gone. So now you can stand in the grass between the wings and have one long uninterrupted view of the hospital structure.

I visited again in May and they've boarded up all the first floor windows (that's a lot of windows!). I'm guessing to prevent vandalism during the summer concert events.

If you bring a snack, you can have a picnic out on the lawn!

Thank you for intel and advice! I unfortunately had to cancel the trip I was planning to MN last fall, but I'm hoping to visit sometime soon. Looks like the Fergus Falls Center for the Arts is doing the Outdoor Concerts at the Kirkbride summer music series this year too!? So hopefully the main building will be around for a while yet... I really do want to have a picnic on the lawn!! :]

[carbuncleinawig]

im going insane over this photo set btw. roose telling fergus something along the lines of how these years [ada being on the cusp of adulthood] are rough and still you need to cherish the time you have. and then i go fucking insane because roose [believes that he] lost his son. the advice is coming from a place of grief that's still fresh and he 'can't' talk to fergus about it because he's still lying about his backstory/etc and just aaaaaa

[the-hamlet]

"Welcome home, such as it is."

Salutations! And welcome to our humble home.

I am Reynauld, and I run this blog with my dear friend Sarmenti. Here you will find artwork of ourselves, our companions, and any other posts we may enjoy.

You may find our system's primary blog here.

Please understand that Sarmenti and I are very real people. This is not a play-pretend blog, we are both introjects, and our identities to us are as real yours is to you. Treat us as fair as you would anyone else.

The body we inhabit is over 18, and thus, we would appreciate if anyone under the age did not interact with this blog.

If you wish to talk to us or make friends, please, do not be afraid to reach out! We are always willing to make friends. Send us an ask, or send us a message. We will not be bothered in the slightest.

Some information on us will be listed below, along with a guide to our tags. Thank you for your time!

⎯ Reynauld

-

Reynauld

He/Him | 35~ | 5'11" | Cisgender | MLM

-

Hello! My name is Reynauld, though you may also call me Rey if you so wish. I am known as The Crusader by others as well.

I am in a loving relationship with my dearest Dismas. I could not possibly be happier... he is a flickering flame in my darkness!

He has helped me through much of my amnesia regarding life in the modern world. I have learned a lot, but I may find myself clueless from time to time with anything new and not from my home. As such, most of the technicalities on this blog will be handled by Sarmenti or our host.

Other information? ...I have a soft spot in my heart for horses, I suppose.

Praise be the Light!

-

Sarmenti

He/Him | ~28 | 5'9" | Genderfluid | Queer

-

This is Sarmenti! I don't mind being called "The Jester" either, but it's sort of silly to call a man only by his job title, don't you think?

I have found myself in a very passionate and beautiful relationship with my lovely songbird Baldwin! Yes I will be mushy about him on this blog, yes I will be as cheesy as I possibly can, and no, you cannot stop me. He doesn't have his own blog to link like Dismas does, but you'd find him in the same system that he's from. They're good people.

I have significantly less amnesia than what Reynauld experiences himself, so I handle a majority of things on this blog. Additionally, I have a burning passion for all things musical! A song for the unfortunate--sung with the soul and played from the heart--could mean much more than any plain spoken words... I also enjoy literature and poetry, to a lesser degree.

Continuing off of Reynauld? I happen to like foxes and songbirds.

There will come a poet, who's weapon is his word... he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh lord~!

---

Tag Guide

#➢ ⎯ “Signed‚ Reynauld.” - Posts & Reblogs from Reynauld

#➢ ⎯ “Signed‚ Sarmenti!” - Posts & Reblogs from Sarmenti

#✧ ⎯ “Truth prevails!” ❬Reynauld❭ - Posts featuring Reynauld

#✧ ⎯ “Slice‚ slice‚ slice!” ❬Sarmenti❭ - Posts featuring Sarmenti

#✧ ⎯ “Right where it hurts!” ❬Dismas❭ - Posts featuring Dismas

#✧ ⎯ “Petals must fall.” ❬Baldwin❭ - Posts featuring Baldwin

#✧ ⎯ “...Laughable‚ mate.” ❬Tardif❭ - Posts featuring Tardif

#✧ ⎯ “Get'em‚ girl!” ❬Willam & Fergus❭ - Posts featuring Willam & his dog Fergus

♡ ⎯ “On the old road‚ we found redemption.” ❬Reymas❭ - Posts about Dismas and Reynauld's loving partnership

♡ ⎯ “Ah‚ the songs we'll write together...” ❬JestLeper❭ - Posts about Baldwin and Sarmenti's unending duet

[sidewalkstv]

Fergus Falls Access Television (Fergus Falls, MN)

Viewers in Fergus Falls, Minnesota can watch SIDEWALKS ENTERTAINMENT on Fergus Falls Access Television. #FergusFallsAccessTelevision #FergusFalls #Minnesota #TVStation #SidewalksEntertainment

Viewers in Fergus Falls, Minnesota can watch SIDEWALKS ENTERTAINMENT on Fergus Falls Access Television. Airtimes (Subject to Change): Various Days and Times Channels: Channel 180 and 187 (Charter Cable Systems) Channel 8 and 18 (Park Region Ottertail Telcom) Cities: Fergus Falls, MN Official Sites: Fergus Falls Access Television Website

[chaddavisphotography]

Fergus Falls Regional Treatment Center in Fergus Falls, MN.

[nobrashfestivity]

Thomas Frederick Arndt Aunt Fud's Chair, Fergus Falls, Minnesota 1970 gelatin silver print The Minneapolis Institute of Art

[tipsypixel-sims]

Another burglary, this time the mayors house. This burglar sure had guts. And Caleb hated them!

Finley had already written to the SimGovernment requesting a police officer be stationed in Pinaccle Peaks. And just as the leaves started to fall, she arrived: Harper Nolan.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say: We're really glad you're here."

"Thank you. I will make sure to find the person responsible for all the break-ins. But maybe me being here will be enough to make them stop."

Fergus had no doubt that Harper was good at her job, but he just wanted to be extra sure that nobody would steal his things. And his most recent invention the "SentryBot" would provide that extra security.