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darkthingshappen · 2 years

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Three Days: Chapter 10

This is a collab with @quietly-by-myself for @the-whumpers-soiree. It features Faolan from their Mercury and Time series (link here) and her original whumper, Finlay Iver.

This story will contain elements of explicit noncon, references to past violent events, including noncon, torture, among other adult/dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. It's much darker than what I normally post. Minors DNI.

TAGS: @oddsconvert

CW: branding, PTSD, mock execution - hanging (sort of), flashbacks, cauterizing wound, defiant whumpee, threats of future noncon. past noncon, implied future noncon, intinmate whumper.

Finlay pushed the sweaty hair out of Faolan’s face and kissed his forehead. “So perfect, little Faolan. You lasted much longer than I thought you would.” He’d give the boy a few minutes to come back to himself on his own before he tried to rouse him. He examined the wound to make sure all traces of the brand were gone. It looked like he’d been successful. The wound bled freely due to the sharpness of the blade. It had gone faster than he’d expected, so that was good. He went and checked the instruments that were in the fire-place. They were glowing hot and ready. He’d cauterize the wound once Faolan was awake and then let him rest for a while.

Finlay gave Faolan a while before he got a bucket ready with cold water to rouse the young man. He checked his watch. It had been a good twenty minutes and the wound needed to be cauterized. He leaned him back a bit further. He pinched Faolan’s nose and splashed the water over his head.

As the water hit his face, Faolan bolted up. The next thing he knew, he was coughing from the sudden gasp. However, the coughing made him want to scream in pain. Why?

Reality hit him - the brand was gone, leaving only a hole in his side in its place. It was still bleeding, though much less than before from the looking of it.

Panic hit him next as he thrashed and whimpered from the all-consuming agony.

No. No. No. I can’t take this. It hurts too much. It hurts too much. The words played over and over in his head in a loop.

“I told you I didn’t want you to remove it!” Something about having been out for so long has renewed his fight. “I didn’t need it gone.”

“And I told you, little pet, that I would not have another man’s mark on my things.”

Finlay picked the leather strip up from Faolan’s chest where it had fallen when the boy’s jaw went slack and held it back up to his mouth.

“I have to cauterize the wound. So I suggest you bite down.”

Faolan looked at Finlay with rage in his eyes. “Your thing. I’m nobody’s thing. I’m not something to just be passed around or sold.” There were tears in his eyes. Not just angry, but also scared and worried.

“I beg to differ, little pet. You can’t even decide if you want to be gagged or not. You need someone to decide things for you. Nearly every decision you’ve made here has been difficult for you. You clearly struggle with autonomy and need to be told what to do and how to live. You can’t even follow simple instructions like get on your knees and bow your head. You require guidance and direction at every step. I’m not angry with you, merely observant.”

Finally gave him a condescending smile, still holding out the leather for him to bite down on.

The mix of blood loss, pain, and adrenaline was making Faolan lose control of himself. What exactly he was trying to accomplish by taunting Finlay, he didn’t know. However, that overwhelming sense of rage at someone else marking his body, making decisions about how he would like it, was hard to control.

“You try being a fucking prisoner of war then. See how you like it for a change!” He was fuming. “You try living your life by the orders of another for your country and have your friends hung in rows in front of you. I’d like to see if you came out the other side in one piece. People like you are weak. You get a doctor to write you a letter about your bad back or bad hips when the time comes to fight.”

Finlay dropped the leather strip back on to Faolan’s chest and walked over to the fire where he retrieved the glowing fire poker.

He said nothing more to Faolan before he touched the long edge of the rod to Faolan’s open wound and began rolling it across the raw flesh.

The feeling of the poker across the open flesh of his wound made Faolan scream like he’d never screamed before. He thrashed and fought against the restraints as the world got blurry. If there was one thing the human body wasn’t meant to handle, it was burning flesh. Faolan yelled and swore, but eventually, it all came out choked. His breathing picked up before his vision went narrow and he fell limp again.

Finlay finished cauterizing the wound. Once it was done and there was no blood, he grabbed a disinfectant spray, which would have burned going on if Faolan were conscious, but it would have been nothing compared to what he’d just done, so he left him drifting in unconsciousness. He sprayed the wound and then applied a burn cream before bandaging the large wound in the boy’s side.

Foalan was forgetting his place. Suddenly an idea struck Finlay. He walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a length of rope. It took him almost no time at all to fashion the end of it into a noose. He slung the noose up over the beam in the ceiling just behind where Faolan was restrained. At this angle, Faolan couldn’t see what he was doing. Plus the cauterizing had left him a bit delirious.

Finlay splashed Faolan with more cold water and waited for him to come back to himself. Once he was certain that the boy was paying attention. He slipped the noose over the boy’s neck and pulled the rope tight, not enough to strangle, but enough to instill the fear of strangulation.

“Now, little Faolan, what were you saying about your friends? About how weak I am?” Finlay smiled at the absolute panic on Faolan’s face. He loosened the noose so the boy could speak. He was clearly enjoying the sound of his own voice just a few moments before.

Faolan awoke to the feeling of rope on his neck. Suddenly, he wasn’t there anymore. No, he’d been teleported back years in the past. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.

He felt nauseous despite himself. Part of him could still smell every smell of that day, feel every touch, and see every ray of light.

It didn’t take long before Faolan was reduced to tears. “Please don’t do this. Please.” His tears were quickly turning into sobs. “No. No. I don’t want to die. You can fuck me as many times as you want. Just please don’t do this. I can’t die like them. Please. I don’t want to die.”

His chest heaved in milliseconds, a horrible combination of panic and grief. He could see the bodies of his friends in front of him. “I can’t. I can’t. Please. No.”

“If you don’t want to die, then maybe you should remember your place in life. You’re mine! You understand? Mine!” Finlay yanked on the rope one last time, fast enough that it would leave red rope marks around his neck, just under his chin, ben then he loosened it again. No sense in actually strangling Faolan. It was much more efficient to have him scared out of his mind and compliant.

“Say it! Little slave, Tell me who you belong to.”

Faolan couldn’t speak, much less say what Finlay wanted him to. He was crying so badly that tears had made his neck and chest wet. In between the sobs were coughs. Eventually, he gathered himself enough to speak, but could only repeat the same words he had that day.

“Please. I don’t want to die. Use me as much as you like but please. Please. Don’t let me die here. Please.”

Finlay pulled up on the rope again and forced Faolan’s glance up to his. “Tell me. Who do you belong to? Or I keep pulling.” He tugged on the rope to prove his point before loosening it again to let him speak.

Faolan forced himself to breathe a bit so he could speak properly. “Yours. I’m yours.” His voice broke around each word. He could hardly get them out. “I’m your slave. I’m stupid. I need your guidance. Everything I do is to please you, Master. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Just don’t let me die here. I don’t have any good ideas. Please.”

“Good. Better. Don’t forget it. You are stupid. You don’t have any good ideas. You do need my help for even the most basic things.” Finlay said, patting Faolan’s cheek. “And for good measure, you’ll wear the noose like a necklace until we retire for the evening.”

He opened Faolan’s jaw and pushed in the wiffle ball gag. He smirked as he turned away from Faolan, leaving him to rest. That was worth it. Faolan would be very compliant. Foalan letting that little nugget about seeing his friends hang slip had been all Finlay needed to get through to him.

*!*!*!*!*

Faolan awoke to a torture room with no Finlay. The pain in his side was impossibly painful. He couldn’t even breathe properly. The wiffle ball gag didn’t help, but even Finlay’s threat of force feeding had fallen flat because he’d already earned that as a semi-permanent punishment.

Memories of what had happened before came back to him. Immediately, he realized the rope around his neck. Now that Finlay wasn’t around, Faolan allowed himself to cry, differently than he did before. He tried in a truly self-assuring way that he couldn’t muster around Finlay, lest he be accused of throwing himself a pity party.

However, his crying didn’t last long before the numbness set in. He was weak and hopeless. He’d admitted what he never wanted to. What would Finlay do now, with that? What would he be like?

Faolan could only wait and find out.

Finlay didn’t return to the room for several hours. He was plotting. Faolan thinks he’s weak, but the little pet can’t even get through a meal without whining. Well, maybe he didn’t have to eat. Maybe he could just drink. And oh, could Finlay make him drink. He’d brand him and then bed him tonight and then after he was chained back in his room, he’d get everything ready for tomorrow.

Finlay smiled to himself as he sipped his whiskey before heading back down to the torture room. He pushed open the door with the glass still in his hand.

Faolan immediately smelled the whiskey, even before he realized that Finlay was coming towards him.

Finlay smiled at the state of his prey. He had felt a fire ignite inside him at the boy’s defiance, but his brokenness was even better. He stroked Faolan’s hair and tilted his head up. “Thirsty, little Faolan?” He didn’t wait for a response before tilting his whiskey glass and poured the last of it through the wiffle ball gag into Faolan’s mouth.

The whiskey burnt his raw throat and made him cough and choke. The wound on his side screamed in pain as he visibly winced, hardly able to breathe from the pain. Each breath was painful, not to count the forceful coughing.

He whimpered a bit, his eyes pleading with Finlay for some sort of mercy from the horrible day he’d gone through.

“We have one more session to go, pet, before you and I head to bed again. I let you rest all afternoon. Now it’s time to mark what’s mine.”

He pressed his lips to Faolan’s around the gag, running his tongue along his lips and then pulling away.

He walked over to the fire and pulled out the rod that had the glowing brand on the end.

“It may not be a family crest, but you'll still bear your master’s initials.” He stalked towards Faolan's twisting and struggling form.

His thrashing eventually stilled as he forced himself to stay in the moment, remembering the threat of the vat of ice. He wouldn’t be able to handle that with the new burns.

He wanted to beg. He wanted to force Finlay to stop. Break his hand or his face. Stop him in any way possible.

Instead of that defiant glare, he gave Finlay a pleading look. Would he get pain medicine, if Finlay was going to fuck him with his two open wounds? He was already in so much pain. He couldn’t take another burn, more neuropathy.

Would Atticus even be able to care for him, knowing that he’d brought this on himself? That he bore the mark of another man again? That he was so weak as to allow this to happen to him twice? Thoughts raced through his mind and he wished they would all stop.

Finlay stopped just beside Faolan, admiring the way the boy held suddenly perfectly still, his chest heaving with clear terror. And now, the defiance was gone and the lovely pleading look was back on his face, his eye brows knit together, begging without saying a word. Too bad this was inevitable from the moment that he’d begged him not to brand him. Sure, he had a brand ready to go, but he didn’t always use it. Sometimes, he only used the fire poker and burned dots and lines and little intricate designs into his pet’s skin. But this one was positively begging for a fresh brand.

Finlay moved the hot iron brand close to the boy’s skin, just below the ribs on the opposite side. He didn’t touch it to his skin… not yet. He was debating. Sure he could put it there, but why let the placement of another man’s mark determine where his would go? No. He moved it up to Faolan’s chest and pressed it in, just above his nipple across his pectoral muscles, just above his heart. And then he held it there.

Despite the gag, Faolan still tried screaming, only to choke on the dryness of his throat. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as Finlay held the brand there longer than he’d expected. Had William held it there that long? It just kept burning and burning, but something in him refused to faint.

Please, make it stop. Please, make it stop. Please. I can’t take any more of this.

For a moment, he might’ve even forgotten what was to happen next.

Finlay pulled the branding iron away. The burned flesh was still smoking. But he could clearly make out the stylized swirl to his Monogram initials, burned into Faolan’s chest.

He ran his fingers over the fresh wound, smiling at the pained hiss it elicited from Faolan. “It’s perfect. It looks absolutely perfect there. Like you were made to be marked.” He was frankly surprised that Faolan was still conscious.

Faolan’s chest heaved around the brand as he sobbed. He was branded again. It was so much more visible this time around. He’d never be able to wear a tank top or v-neck again. He was curling up internally, wanting to never have another person see what he’d let happen. It was all his fault. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself be branded again.

That feeling of brokenness came back as he realized he truly was Finlay’s. Finlay was going to bed him again that night. Would he be gentle again? Or rough? Faolan didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to be taken against his will again.

Whatever Finlay had in store was squarely his fault, he realized. It was his fault for going to the party. It was his fault for not listening to Atticus. It was his fault for disobeying even if he knew what to do.

Faolan’s tears picked up at the dread of what was going to happen next. He knew it was inevitable. He could only hope that Finlay was worked up enough to finish quickly tonight.

Finlay took out the disinfectant spray again and sprayed off the wound. He knew it would sting and he enjoyed the fresh tears that it brought to Faolan’s eyes. He was ready to take him to the bedroom, so he didn’t waste as much time in dressing Faolan’s brand as he had the wound on his lower side.

He covered it completely with soft gauze bandages, taping them into place. He then undid the strap across Finaly’s head and chest. He wound a cloth bandage around the boy’s body, across his chest, under his arms and around his back so that the bandage would stay in place.

“You did very good staying awake through that.” He pulled the wiffle ball gag out of the boy’s mouth. “You have not earned the use of your hands back yet. But would you prefer the tube or for me to feed you?”

“Please feed me yourself. I don’t want the tube again. Please.” He was whimpering a bit with each plea to not have to suffer the tube again. He looked down at himself, seeing his torso covered in bandages, and felt another wave of sadness wash over him. He looked awful. He hated himself more than he could put into words.

Finlay mussed Faolan’s hair. “Be back in just a moment with dinner.”

Once Finlay was gone, Faolan allowed himself to truly sob. Big, ugly sounds of a man who had lost utterly everything.

“Fuck this. Fuck everything.” Faolan grew in his self-hatred. “It’s not fair. I can’t keep going like this.”

He tried speaking to himself to soothe himself, to get the words out, but it only seemed to make him more sad and cry harder. He would never allow Finlay to see him in such a depraved, ugly state. He would never endure that humiliation. But alone, he would cry more than he had even with Atticus.

“I miss you, Atticus.”

What he wouldn’t give to be with Atticus right then. He wanted to see the man and have him tell Faolan that everything would be okay. That this was all a nightmare he could wake up from.

As time passed, Faolan forced himself to get together. He would survive, even if Atticus didn’t find him right away. Right?

Finlay returned with a tray and a silver cover on it, like it was a gourmet meal.

“I keep a chef, and I thought, if you were good and got to eat a proper meal tonight, you’d need something that would be nutritious and easy on your stomach.” He pulled off the cover to reveal a roast chicken breast, green beans, and mashed potatoes. “The green beans are steamed. The mashed potatoes are from scratch and made with chicken broth to minimize the dairy.”

Faolan could’ve cried when he saw the meal. It was absolutely beautiful after a day of hunger and being force fed microwaved eggs in lemonade. “Th-thank you.”

“No fancy titles? I don’t understand you. You use them when I’m hurting you, and then when I do something for you that's nice, you don’t use them. Are you just trying to butter me up so I will let you off the hook when you’ve been bad?”

Watching Finlay’s hands with the food, he froze. Finlay had figured it out. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was something you wanted out of me.”

He’d done it with William. He’d call William “my lord” to calm him down from a particularly dangerous mood. However, it seemed that Finlay wouldn’t allow the same thing to slide.

“Go ahead then, thank me properly for dinner. Thanks to you, I like the titles. I will accept my lord or master from now on. I’m not mad. I was just confused. But let’s not say any more about it other than that is how I want to be addressed from now on.”

Faolan froze. He hated using the titles. He couldn’t give Finlay so much, even if it had seemed so easy before.

Something in him was too tired to face more pain, though. He wanted to resist. He wanted to tell Finlay to go fuck himself and his stupid titles. Finlay would never let such a thing slip again.

While stuck in his loop of anxiety, Faolan was silent for many minutes as he tried to find the courage to say what Finlay wanted him to.

“”Do I need to put this meal in the blender too? With more lemonade? And use the tube?” Finlay stared him down, letting the scent of the chef crafted meal waft over him.

“No! No you don’t. Please, not that again. Please.” His voice quickly broke into sobs. That feeling of brokenness washed over him again. “No…”

“Then let me hear a proper thank you.”

Biting back tears, Faolan mustered the strength to offer a proper thanks to Finlay. “T-thank you, Master. Thank you for the beautiful meal, Master.”

Small sobs shook his body as he finally gave in and spoke those horrible words. All for a real meal that he would’ve had at home on any ordinary day.

“Much better.” Finlay set the tray down and cut up the chicken. He put a little of each item on the fork and fed the meal to Faolan.

Finlay let Faolan take his time with each bite. He offered no tricks or slips, he just slowly fed him the meal. Neither of them talked. It was the quietest they’d both been without one of them being gagged.

When he was finished he wiped Faolan’s mouth with a soft napkin. “All done? Would you like something to drink? Some water perhaps?” Finlay kept the smirk off of his face. He couldn’t wait to see how the boy reacted to what he had planned for him tomorrow. But enough of that. Stay in the moment, he told himself.

Faolan nodded a little quietly. “Thank you, Master. May I please have my second dose of Pepcid, Master?”

He gave Finlay an anxious whimper at the twitch in his face, breaking that sacred, peaceful silence they’d had just moments before. He hoped that Finlay wouldn’t take the question or the whimper the wrong way and reprimand him for it.

“I think you’ve earned that. Will you need any more Tums as well?”

“N-no, Master, but I would like another pill of my Zofran if it’s possible.” Things seemed to be going smoothly with Finlay. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be okay.

“That’s fine. We still have a few hours before bed time.” Finlay got his pills and held out his hand to him. His other hand holding the cup of water. Foalan licked the pepcid off of his hand as he’d done before and then tucked the zofran under his tongue. Finlay held the cup of water to his lips and let him drink. “It’s well water, this far out. It’s always cold and crisp.”

Faolan happily accepted the water to get rid of the awful medication taste. He swallowed down the water in large gulps, happy to get relief for his horribly sore throat as well. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. You just need to endure a little bit more. Then, he’ll be kind for the rest of the night. You can do this, Faolan. You can do this.

“Thank you, Master. Thank you for the water, Master.”

Finlay stroked his hair gently. “Such a good boy.” He kissed Faolan’s forehead and then got up and went to the door. He called for his two henchmen and they came in to escort Faolan to the bedroom.

Panic filled Faolan’s chest as the henchmen came in and grabbed his arms to lead him away to Finlay’s bedroom. At some point, he stumbled to the ground, unable to support himself much on the side where the wound was. He forced himself to take deep breaths as he tried to stand, scared that Finlay would shock him.

Finlay offered his hand and put his arm around his waist to help support him as he tried to stand up. “Not much farther. You can make it.”

Taking deep breaths, Faolan stood with Finlay’s help. A building sense of dread formed in his stomach as he caught a glimpse of the door to Finlay’s bedroom. He knew what came next. He doubted he was strong enough to face it.

#three days #faolan dufort #finlay iver #captivity #kidnapping #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #ptsd #branding #mock execution #hanging #noose #flashbacks #defiant whumpee #whump writer #whump community #whump

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reachfolk · 2 years

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Reach Tribes: Doomfang Clan

We're back again with another edition of my series, The Madmen of the Reach: Reachfolk Tribes!! To no one's surprise, I am once again being super biased because this time I'm talking about the Doomfang Clan, which is my beloved Esmeralda's clan. As usual, I'll start with canon info and elaborate more on them in my headcanons section. Note that everything we know about the Doomfang clan is from Legends, so if you've played it, you can just skip over to the HC's section if you'd like.

Lore Taglist: @vilkas @lookathooves @faolan-red-eagle @krogans-give-the-best-cuddles (ask to be added for lore or writing or both!)

Canon Information

Of all the Reach tribes, the Doomfang clan is arguably the one to stand out most of all. During the early 4th Era, they were based in Bthardamz, the largest Dwemer city in modern-day Skyrim. Unlike most Reachfolk, who were suspicious of Dwarfcraft and were illiterate (due to the Reach's reliance on oral traditions), the Doomfang clan utilized both of these things to their advantage.

In the early 4th Era, the Empire was continuing its efforts to wipe out the Reachfolk (to no one's surprise), and the Doomfang clan wouldn't go down without a fight. They developed a powerful poisonous gas that they were planning to transport with Dwemer animunculi. This gas was a simple recipe combining Falmer ear, deathbell, nirnroot, and red mountain flowers.

[Image ID: a letter written in cursive handwriting, describing the ingredients of the poison gas used by the Doomfang clan. It reads:

"This will stop those imperials. Mix together in a boiling pot. Deathbell, Falmer Ear, Nirnroot, Red Mountain Flower"]

Despite the effective strategy, the Reachfolk got tangled up in a one-sided conflict between Talym Rend, an imperial soldier, and his commanding officer and friend Portia Loran. Talym had made a deal with none other than Sheogorath, and to uphold his end of the bargain, he was instructed to drive Portia to insanity by sabotaging her mission.

Talym achieved this by intercepting a letter sent by the Doomfang clan detailing how to create the toxic gas. He then returned to Portia with false intel that the antidote for the gas could be made using flowers from a grove of Mara. Portia had to take these flowers by force from the clergy.

With the flowers acquired, Legion alchemists refined it into a gas that was meant to counteract the effects of the Reachfolk's poison. However, the two gases reacted violently upon contact, causing a massive explosion that wiped out most of the Reachmen and the Legionnaires. Despite the massive loss of life at Talym's hands (and inadvertently, Portia's), the Empire technically succeeded in eradicating the Reachfolk from Bthardamz.

Personal Headcanons

My headcanons for this tribe run pretty far, so let’s take it all the way back to the Merethic Era. Now whether or not the Reachfolk were even in existence at this time is really muddy and confusing, as most things are when you go that far back in Tamrielic history. Some sources state that the Reachfolk couldn’t have been around until at least after the collapse of the First Empire of the Nords in 1E 420. But other sources claim that the Nedes (i.e. ancient humans not from Yokudan or Atmoran ancestry) were around in Tamriel since the dawn of time.

Reachfolk tradition states the latter, and I will be sticking with that idea for a number of reasons. One, it’s my blog and I do what I want. Two, this is a Reachfolk based blog so we’ll be taking a Reachfolk based perspective on everything when we can. Three, everything covered in this video by FudgeMuppet essentially validates this point and shows that it isn’t a very far-fetched idea. Four, I discussed in this post briefly about the nature of Reachfolk oral traditions and how they stem back farther than the written word, carrying with them tales of the early Merethic Era with great accuracy. Needless to say, I trust their word.

Before I go into the meat of this post, there's one other bit of information I'd like to highlight before proceeding and that's the elaborate cave systems within the Reach. This is something that's discussed extensively in their folklore—that their most ancient ancestors lived within these caves long before Man and Mer fought over their lands. This allowed the proto-Reachfolk to explore their land literally inside and out, and pass on their wisdom through song and story.

This is a really interesting point in the lore, because we actually know quite a bit about cave systems within Skyrim and the people that inhabited them. If you're not picking up what I'm putting down: yes, I'm talking about Blackreach and the Dwemer.

It may seem odd at first, but the pieces line up just perfectly for the proto-Reachfolk to have at least engaged with the Dwemer at some point or another.

I believe the proto-Reachfolk and the Dwemer had a sort of allyship going for them. The nature of this alliance is vague and could be just about anything; perhaps the Dwemer provided protection to the proto-Reachfolk and the Reachfolk in turn bring resources from the surface world to the Dwemer. It's important to keep in mind that this is before the Reachfolk have been ostracised, antagonized, and oppressed by the other races, so it's not hard to imagine them as a vastly different people then. Perhaps their guarded, suspicious nature towards outsiders only set in later. With what we know of their strong sense of duty, it's possible that the Reachfolk and Dwemer fell into an easy alliance based on mutual benefit and returning favors to one another. Over the centuries, the Dwemer shared their knowledge of their technology with their friends, and the proto-Reachfolk shared their knowledge of alchemy and magics in turn.

But as we know, Reachfolk are inherently very suspicious of all things Dwemer, so that's rather bizarre to think, isn't it? I can definitely see that perspective, but I'd once again argue that we don't know how different the proto-Reachfolk are from their modern day successors. I believe the Reachfolk were in a good relationship with the Dwemer up until the events of the Aetherium War, which tore the alliance apart as well as any alliance the Dwemer city-states had with each other.

Then, of course, the disappearance of the Dwemer. This, I believe, took not only full-blooded Dwemer, but also those with mixed Dwemer-Reach ancestry. Seeing not only their friends and allies but also their own children, parents, and lovers disappear from their grasp left a scar of the Reachfolk's psyche, leaving most of them convinced all things to do with Dwemertech were cursed.

Emphasis on the word "most." Yes, we're finally getting into the actual Doomfang clan! I believe the ancestors of the Doomfangs were those left of the Reachfolk that firmly believed in the Dwemer culture and keeping it alive. They saw value in those same intellectual pursuits, despite the risks. These were among the first to inhabit Nchuand-Zel, later to be called Markarth.

Over the years, the clans shift and change and get renamed, but by the time of the fourth era, we end with the Doomfang Clan as the one clan that continues to tell tales of the Dwemer and pass on their knowledge. This is how they were able to get the Dwemer animunculi to work with rather than against them. This is why they chose to inhabit a Dwarven ruin rather than live in the hills. This is why their death is among the worst tragedies the Empire has committed against the Reach.

I do like to think that a very small handful of Doomfangs survived—those that were visiting other tribes or out gathering food during the time of the attack, things like that. They returned to find their home in shambles, their people’s blood and gore splattered across the walls of their own home. All in the name of the Empire’s selfish desires.

I have a ton more to say about this clan beyond just their history, but I'll leave all that for a part two. Stay tuned!

#tes #tesblr #reachfolk #reachmen #series: the madmen of the reach #subseries: reach tribes #doomfang clan #oc: esmeralda

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shadowfae · 3 years

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(Nebulaic Collective) A More Formal Farewell

Note from the Skyrose Garden: the Nebulaic Collective, our partner system, asked us to post this on their behalf, so here it is. We personally are going nowhere, out of sheer stubbornness; but they did have to deactivate, and here's a bit of an update. Their letter is under the cut.

Hey, folks- Nebulaic Collective here.

It’s been a couple months since we had to deactivate our blog to keep certain people offline from finding it, so we thought we’d reach out and update everybody on what’s going on with us and why we haven’t come back like we promised we would.

Basically, we’ve decided we’re not remaking after all. For those of you who might have been hoping we would, or weren’t even aware what happened to begin with, we apologize that we didn’t get the word out sooner. This semester has been incredibly rewarding and wonderful so far, but also incredibly taxing in terms of our workload. We’re extremely busy trying to finish our undergrad and figure out what comes afterwards, and that’s where our focus needs to be right now. Quarantine derailed a lot of our progress in terms of becoming financially independent from our family- something that’s absolutely crucial to our continued recovery- and we’ve only just started getting back on track. That’s taking up most of our time and energy, and has to come first.

Additionally, we just don’t have enough spoons to devote to social media anymore. Being on Tumblr again after our hiatus triggered a lot of old fears and paranoia, and we were exposed to a lot of things we were probably better off avoiding. The state of online discourse being what it is and the extremes people are willing to go to in the name of it genuinely scares us, especially when it occurs in communities that are supposed to be welcoming and accepting of people like us. It seems increasingly unavoidable, and we’ve in turn become increasingly uncomfortable with it. Purity culture is a massive problem, and makes it harder for us to open up. After all, who wants to talk about their exotrauma if they’re just going to be told they’re as bad as their abusers for existing as they are? Who wants to speak on being a system if other systems are just going to assume we’re lying for attention? Who wants to talk about our complicated experiences with queerness and the labels we use if it’ll just be written off as “queer is a slur, don’t use it”? And how do you curate your experience to avoid it all when the people who hate you are actively seeking you out?

For the most part, we’ve felt supported by the community and the people in it- the above isn’t an indictment of all alterhumans, but of the current social media climate. The more hostile things become, the less we want any information about us to be publicly available- especially sensitive topics like the minutiae of our identities. We’ve always been notoriously private, but now that we’re aware of our plurality and the mental states of our system members, privacy has become an imperative. Disclosing we’re plural to new people that we meet is even more fraught than disclosing we’re trans, and disclosing we’re alterhuman just isn’t something we do for very good reasons. Offline, we have to be very careful about what we say regarding our identity, and having a repository of information about it that can be easily traced back to us makes us extremely nervous.

We don’t want to stop writing about being alterhuman, or keeping up with the community. We might occasionally contribute a post or two to Pale’s social media accounts, or send in asks to his blog. A personal website may or may not happen- we’d like to do it, but don’t know realistically if we have the time. A lot of other projects that are important to us are getting put on the back burner because of college right now anyway, and we’re not sure we can add another to the list at this juncture without a caveat that it might never get done. If you want to reach us outside of tumblr, ask Pale off anon for our discord- we’re happy to chat with others and would love to hear from some of you. Though we do technically have an account on NNP and want to use it more, Discord is a better bet for reaching us and we don’t have as much time to contribute to the forum as we’d like. We’re much more likely to be active there in the future than any social media, but that won’t be until we’ve graduated and devoted some more time to other projects like our writing and art.

So, this is it: a better explanation of why we’re gone and where you can find us now. We’re happy to report that we’re all doing well. The antidepressants we’d started a little while back are still working great, and we’ve got an appointment very soon to potentially start the process of HRT. We love our major and are finally excited about what we’re studying again, and have been much more mentally stable this semester than in the past. Offline life is going well, which is a big part of the reason why we’ve decided to step back from the internet. It’s nice to have things to live for that aren’t completely virtual and centered around social media.

Thank you for all the support and kindness you showed us, and we hope we’ll meet again someday.

Sincerely,

Faolan, Luco, Fiadh, Jesse, Macrantha, Kagaho, Minos, Ivy, Sebastian, Hades, and Sui

(The Nebulaic Collective)

#otherkin #fictionkin #alterhuman #faolan tag #(since that's our tag for the entire system iirc)

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pellelavellan-a · 4 years

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Pelle’s Companion Verse

Recruitment:

Must complete What Lurks in the Shadows Quest. Pelle is opened as a companion option after leaving the area and completing two other quests. The quests are of no significance at all and can be any two quests in your Journal. Once two more are completed the next time you enter Skyhold a cut-scene will be unlocked where Pelle is standing in the war room with Leliana and three other scouts. Leliana informs the Inquisitor that she found Pelle standing near the gates of Haven looking quite obviously lost. Once Pelle explains that he changed his mind about his refused recruitment earlier at the end of What Lurks in the Shadows you are given the option to turn him down or to recruit him.

Upon recruiting Pelle, an NPC will automatically appear in Haven in the Chantry, Faolan. While you can ask Pelle about his clan he does not speak in any great detail about himself. Mostly Deshanna, his people, their village, and the time they spent in Orlais.

Speaking to Faolan reveals more about Pelle personally. His childhood, his personality, his passion but also his flaws. More is revealed about Pelle’s personal life can be later revealed from NPCs Talwinne, Maevis, and Durgen who will appear after Calling in a Favor if they survive.

Approval:

General Approval:

Helping people, finding elven ruins, mage rights, speaking well of the dalish, history knowledge dialogue options, often approves of the most peaceful option in problem solving, learning about the inquisitor before they were inquisitor, asking him questions about the dalish, kindness, honesty, flirting (conditional)

General Disapproval:

Violent or aggressive actions/dialogue, lying, destroying elven graves, anti-mage rights, negative Dalish comments, racism, making anyone tranquil, disrespect or disregard for other’s religions and culture, Orlesians, killing judged characters, fliritng (conditional, it’s really about the timing of it)

Mages or Templars:

Inquisitor Sides with Mages : Greatly Approves

The Inquisitor Sides with Templars: Slightly Disapproves

The Inquisitor Recruits Mages as Allies: Greatly Approves

The Inquisitor Recruits Mages are Prisoners: Greatly Disapproves

The Inquisitor Recruits Templars as Allies: Disapproves

The Inquisitor Recruits Templars as Prisoners: Greatly Disapproves

Skyhold Hiding Place: Skyhold Garden

Here Lies the Abyss:

Inquisitor Exiles Wardens: Disapproves

Inquisitor Recruits Wardens: Approves

Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts:

Celene rules alone: Neutral

Celene and Briala rule together: Greatly Approves

Public Truce: Slightly Approves

Gaspard rules alone: Greatly Disapproves

Gaspard and Briala rule: Approves

What Pride Had Wrought:

The Inquisitor performs the rituals: Approves

The Inquisitor does not perform the rituals: Greatly Disapproves

The Inquisitor Allies with the Sentinels: Greatly Approves

The Inquisitor does not ally with the Sentinels: Disapproves

Breaking Samson’s armor: Approves

Sparing Calpernia: Approves

Fighting Calpernia: Greatly Disapproves

Drinking from the Well: Greatly Disapproves

Morrigan Drinks from the Well: Disapproves

Base Quests:

Calling in a Favor

Location: Skyhold

THIS QUEST HAS TWO ROUTES

High to Neutral Approval:

After Skyhold is unlocked, Pelle will approach the Inquisitor about a letter he received from his Clan near regarding their safety. He will express that they are in danger and could potentially be killed if something isn’t done to help them. This unlocks a war table mission where you can choose to send troops, spies, or an ambassador to Pelle’s clan in order to help defuse the situation between the elves and the nearby humans.

Regardless of choice, the clan faces near extinction though the reason why is different based upon the choice. Even though his clan has been mostly killed, Pelle holds himself responsible for their fate and thanks you for trying to help them. He will then ask to be left alone for a little while. You can talk to him again after leaving the Skyhold for a bit and returning.

Three NPCs will appear in Skyhold after the completion of this mission named Talwinne, Maevis, and Durgen. All of them can be spoken to and interacted with and will provide extra information about Pelle.

Talwinne: Tells childhood stories about himself and Pelle, will talk about being a hunter, his father and blacksmithing, minimal dialogue about Aela.

Maevis: Will talk about how she became Pelle’s apprentice, minimal dialogue about her feelings about the clan being attacked. She will also talk about Deshanna’s last days after Pelle left home.

Durgen: Will defend Pelle against Maevis’ claims that the massacre was his fault. Will ask any Inquisitor about themselves. He talks about his family that he lost save for his father who he left behind after a disagreement. Speaking with Durgen will also reveal information about Pelle having a lover prior to joining the Inquisition who died six months prior in Orlais.

Very Low Approval

Pelle will assume that the Inquisitor cares little for the Dalish or for his concerns. Instead of asking for help he will take matters into his own hands and forge commands for soldiers to help his clan. The whole clan is murdered as well as the soldiers and Pelle comes clean to the Inquisitor about his crimes.

Pelle will insist upon being arrested and will become open for judgement. At judgement you will have the option to Free Him, Kick him out of the Inquisition, or Kill him.

Free Him - Disapproves

Kill Him - Approves

Kick Him Out - Slightly approves but is no longer an available Companion for the remainder of the game.

Romance:

Pelle can be romanced by any male Inquisitor regardless of race. While you can flirt with him in Haven he is cautious about getting close to the Inquisitor at first.Bringing him along in the party helps by unlocking banters in which the Inquisitor can occasionally interact with Pelle and another companion.

Once you have unlocked Skyhold, if your approval is high enough Pelle will approach the Inquisitor about the situation of his clan unlocking the Calling a Favor quest which can be completed at the war table. Once that is completed you have a chance to talk to Pelle about the result and console him about his clan’s fate. Flirting in this scene would be ill advised as he gets a little upset.

Once this quest is completed you may continue to flirt with him in casual conversations. After leaving the area and returning you unlock a cut scene where Pelle confronts the Inquisitor about the flirting. He seems a little uncertain and troubled. He will say cryptic weird things about whether or not what they’re doing is right. He will admit to liking the Inquisitor more than he should but that he does not know if becoming closer will be a mistake in the future. He will also ask that if the Inquisitor is just playing with him to simply tell him now rather than break his heart later.

If the Inquisitor says it’s simply casual: Greatly Disapproves

If the Inquisitor ultimately goes nevermind: Slightly Disapproves

If the Inquisitor pursues him anyway: Approves

The romance carries out from there on out and he will ask the Inquisitor how they feel about a little scandal (aka dancing at the Winter Palace)

His romance quests are unlocked after completing Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts,

if you do not complete Calling in a Favor before completing Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts his romance will be locked and you cannot initiate it.

High Approval/Romance Quests:

Making Amends ( War Table Mission)

Dust to Dust

Continue reading for Quest Descriptions

Making Amends

Quest can only be unlocked after completing either Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts,

Location: Skyhold

Quest can be initiated after overhearing Pelle and Maevis bickering in the gardens. If you speak to Pelle after leaving Skyhold and returning he will confide in the Inquisitor that he has been arguing with his apprentice Maevis a lot lately and that she is very upset with him for joining the Inquisition. If you press for questions Pelle will tell you more about Maevis. Pelle generally expresses a deep concern for Maevis and her temper and notes that she is not adjusting well.

Finishing this conversation opens up a war table mission where Maevis and a few other scouts are said to have gone missing during their last mission. Leliana is the only option in learning the whereabouts of Maevis and the scouts. Once they are found you have the option to retrieve Maevis without Pelle or to tell Pelle and take him with you.

Dust to Dust - TWO ROUTES

Location: The Emerald Graves

You gain approval for telling Pelle about Maevis and the scouts. He will then suggest you go together to find all of them and bring them back to Skyhold. There is also an option of this quest where you can neglect to inform Pelle and retrieve Maevis without him.

Looking for Maevis will reveal bodies of dead elves who appear to simply be peasants. The dead elves vary between men and women. The last dead elf found appears to be an Inquisition scout who appears noticeably younger than the rest.

Once you locate Maevis and the scout’s whereabouts you are met with the body of two dead scouts and three thugs. The further you follow the path into the cavern the more dead bodies you find.

If Pelle is in the party he will at first be worried that Maevis may also be dead, but his concern shifts halfway from Maevis is hurt to Maevis is behind it.

Maevis is found at the end of the cavern, this initiates a cut-scene

If Pelle is in the Party: Maevis will beg for Pelle to stay away from her and claim that she does not want to harm him. When he presses on she becomes furious and demands he stay back a second time. Pelle will insist that he only wants to help her and will approach her directly.

If Pelle is not in the Party: Maevis will ask where Pelle is. She will instantly becomes upset at Pelle and start to say that Pelle did not even care to notice she was missing and had as much resolve to find her as he did to help the Dalish.

If Pelle is present he is able to talk Maevis down. She tells him about the band of thugs who were murdering elves for sport who killed her friend and the other elves you found out in the graves. She confesses to letting her anger get the better of her but that the men deserved to die and that she intended to teach them. But what is more troubling to him is that she has made a deal with a rage demon and that she is very scared. He will try to reassure her that he will do everything he can to help her and will offer to take her back to Skyhold.

If the Inquisitor expresses any form or disgust with Maevis, or calls her an abomination, Pelle will become very angry with the Inquisitor and says they will have a discussion when they return to Skyhold.

If Pelle is not brought along, Maevis’ rage slowly begins to shift until she is revealed to have made a deal with a demon and transforms into an abomination. At this point you are forced to kill Maevis. Upon killing her, her journal is found as a drop item.

When you return to Skyhold:

If Pelle was there and was able to talk Maevis down and everything went well. He will thank the Inquisitor for helping him find Maevis. He will also say he owes the Inquisitor, and that if the Inquisitor ever needs anything they need only ask.

Additionally he will ask the Inquisitor what he thinks of what became of Maevis now that she is out of ear shot. He will also confess to be left at a moral loss as he does not know if what she did was right or wrong.

If he was brought along but the Inquisitor expressed any disgust with Maevis or even so much as hints that Maevis is an abomination, Pelle will confront the Inquisitor about it back in Skyhold. He will tell the Inquisitor how insensitive it was to say to Maevis when she was in such a vulnerable state. Based upon how the conversation carries out Pelle will either let it go and give the Inquisitor the benefit of the doubt that they put their foot in their mouth, or if the conversation goes south he will break up with the Inquisitor terminating Pelle’s Romance.

If Pelle was not in the party, you will have to return to Skyhold and return Maevis’ journal to him to complete the quest. If this route is taken, Pelle is furious with the Inquisitor for not only taking such a personal matter into their own hands but also murdering his apprentice in the process. This route results in an immediate termination of Pelle’s Romance.

Additional Facts:

If Pelle is broken up with, he becomes very curt with the Inquisitor and is not usually willing to talk. It unlocks some banters involving Pelle and Cole in which Cole will express Pelle’s feelings of shattered trust in the Inquisitor. While Pelle’s approach to the Inquisitor is often abrasive and short, listening to Cole address Pelle’s feelings about their relationship shows that Pelle is actually very sad.

If Route B of Calling In A Favor Occurs and Pelle is not killed or imprisoned, it also unlocks Cole and Pelle banters where Cole is reading into Pelle’s mind about the guilt towards what happened to his clan, and the fact that he was simply walking a free man despite having killed so many people.

Pelle’s “Romance Scene” cannot be unlocked until after Dust to Dust is completed. It will only be activated if A.) Maevis is rescued and returned to Skyhold with no complications, or B.) Maevis is rescued and returned to Skyhold but Pelle confronts the Inquisitor about their behavior and forgives them.

Pelle’s staff is not able to be unequipped, it also cannot be modified. The stats of his stats improve with him as he levels up. This is because he is very stubborn about anyone handling Deshanna’s staff except for himself.

Should Pelle and a romanced Inquisitor part ways after Trespasser he will gift them his Keeper’s Ring as a promise ring.

#hc: pelle #may add more in time about post trespasser but for now #have this #pelle: companion

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faolanmeadowes · 4 years

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there we will go // self-para.

Summer of 1800. Meallán Cottage, Ireland. tw: implications of suicide

He watches the sky in the days leading up to their anniversary, half-afraid it will turn into a winter storm in the middle of summer. Irrational, but this tiny fear lives within him. He’s unsure if he can handle the sight of their home obscured in a spattering of snow without feeling his heart squeeze in his chest, but he shrugs it off. He cannot be afraid when he’s already lived through his greatest fears, there’s no room left in him for it.

His steps drag. He knows this route, he recognizes the trees on either side of him and the shadows they cast over the path. There’s a carving in one of the trees, a permanent mark in a slowly changing world. Touching the grooves of his son’s name is painful to the point of sickness, heart squeezing at the uneven loops of the letter B, the shakiness of the R and the A as he tried to curve the knife, and the jagged lines of the N. Bran, it says, and it hurts.

Faolan tears himself away from the tree, heaving for air. It’s been almost a decade since he stepped foot onto this land of theirs, and twenty-five years this winter since he last saw them.

Can he bear to see the rest? He must. He must, he promised.

The carving in the tree heralds the change from forest to meadow and a cloudless, sunny day meets him as he breaks through the cover of trees. Their cottage is there with its crooked chimney and ivy-strewn walls. It almost looks like he can open the door and see them waiting, smiling, laughing. Any second now he’ll hear Bran and Deirdre’s laughter as they tell stories to the chickens. He waits, and waits some more when he realizes it’s not going to happen.

Vines are crawling over the stone and dust coats the windows. No one has been here in some time, likely not since he last stood here, and Faolan stares at the door for several long seconds, hand hovering on the handle. But, no, he cannot go back inside. It’s no longer the ruin and mess it was twenty-five years ago, he found the strength to do that much, but the care in which he took to keep the inside preserved meant he couldn’t bear the idea of going inside and stepping in on something that is no longer his. The inside of their cottage is for them, he will not go inside until it’s time to be with them.

He doesn’t go inside.

He stops at their graves, a finger brushing over each name, the gut-wrenching pain no less with time. No tears come, he feels as though he should have none left for this, but Faolan knows the truth. Knows the feeling will hit him as it always does, a vicious cycle of thinking he’s free from the anchor of grief only for it to snag around his ankle once more. He presses a kiss against his fingers, brushing it over the stone bearing Caoimhe’s name and two for the kids on her behalf, before making his way to the back of the property.

A shallow creek trickles to his left, winding around the side of the cottage and into a large, overgrown pond in the back. The willow tree next to it is twisted and bent, long branches stretching out and near kissing the water’s edge, turning the pond into a tiny, secluded haven. Once, he stood beneath this tree when it was little bigger than a branch sticking out of the dirt, holding her hand and promising to love her forever, and now it dwarfs him many times over.

Flowers grow, ripe for plucking, and he could take dozens without making a dent in the way nature has taken over this meadow. Maybe, one day, he’ll come back to find it swallowed up altogether. He hopes it does, and if it does, it’ll start with the patch of naked dirt near the back window. His eyes are involuntarily drawn to it. No more grass than it did the last time he was here, as if the ground has made a permanent mark where she died, as if nature is mourning his daughter as much as he is.

He half hopes when nature reclaims this place, it’ll take him with it. Let him be devoured by the grass and trees and flowers, let him rest and return to them. He isn’t so afraid of dying as he was in his youth, not really, it seems an almost peaceful thing to do in this place, surrounded by the best and worst of his memories.

He takes the yellow flowers for Caoimhe, pushing the thought of everything else from his mind and settling on the edge of the water. They are cold in hands, stems wet from the recent rain, and his mind circles back to this day and this time years before, when it was her hand and his holding the stem of a flower. He remembers his hands shaking, and his heart galloping, and he recalls the certainty that their future together would be long, happy, and endless.

“I gave you a flower like this one once. Do you remember what I said?” he asks. “‘Thank you for saving me, but you could be quicker about it, I thought I might--” He chokes, clearing the lump from his throat with no success. “‘I might really die there’ and you… The look you gave me.”

Once, he would laugh, remembering the look on her face. “You saved me. I saved you. That’s what we did.” Until-- until-- No, he must not. He must finish this.

Faolan clears his throat again, shifting forward, placing a flower on the water for a moment. “You are blood of my blood, and bone of my bone…” he murmurs to the air, watching the flower float in the water. “I will always hold you…” He repeats their vows, choking and stopping after each aching word. The flower sinks like a stone on water.

Battle for composure long lost, he feels the weight of the world returning, tears falling without pause. “I will never leave you…” His eyes are blurry, and the tree casts a shadow over the water so like a person that his heart stutters. If someone is there, he isn’t afraid of them. He has no room left in him for fear, but a desperate hope clings, as if he might see her standing there. His fingers meet empty air. No one is there, he knows, even as he imagines her hand on his shoulder, her fingers on his cheek, her lips on his own.

#lethe: task two #headcanon #drabble #you can thank ally for THis #if you aren't familiar with Faolan's story his family was brutally killed and this is like twenty-five years after that??#and if you think Faolan is recovered from it you are WROng #so tiny warning I mean there's nothing high key mentioned about it #but #tw implications of suicide #I'd rather be safe than sorry

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fullrangeofemotions · 4 years

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A birthday on an everyday Thursday

A short drabble of Donna’s morning on her birthday. She is now 48! Almost 50! Just a little domestic look into Donna and Ally’s life on this birthday morning.

----

One minute she was standing in a forest and suddenly, the ground under her crumbled away. Her heart dropped into her stomach, right hand stretching out to try and grab onto something but there was nothing. In the distance, she could hear a ringing. The shock turned into annoyance as the ringing continued. Darkness engulfed her, everything disappearing as she cracked her eyes open. Donna was back in her room, but the ringing continued.

A soft groan escaped her lips as she stretched her hand out and grabbed the phone. She was not even paying attention, pressing the green circle automatically before pressing the phone to her ear. “ ‘ullo?” she grumbled and it was enough for her parents to begin singing happy birthday to her, completely offkey. Donna knew they meant well and she loved them, she did….but it was way too late…or early for such phone calls. “..mkay…loveyou,” she managed to mumble out, reaching up her hand to press the red button, but leaving the phone pressed to her cheek.

Moving the phone back to the bedside table felt like too much work, but she managed to gather the energy to grab the phone and place it on the little table next to her bed. She yawned and turned to her other side, a soft smile stretching her lips as she caught sight of her sleeping companion. Ally was spread out, lost to the world and a smile on her lips. Donna could only hope that her Ally was having the sweetest of dreams.

A huff from the end of the bed had her raising her head, enough so she could lock eyes with Faolan. His sad, droopy eyes stared at her for a moment before he huffed and rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes once again. Donna sighed and dropped her head back onto her pillow, deciding that Faolan had the right idea.

A soft chirping sound had her scrunching up her nose. No, she groaned, trying to ignore those chirping sounds. She knew it was her alarm, but if she pretended, she did not hear, perhaps it would go away? A sudden cold nose began to sniff her neck, making her let out a soft yelp. She sat up and glared down at Faolan, who only wagged his tail.

“You are lucky you are cute,” she hissed at him, but any sting was taken away by her reaching out to scratch behind his ears, cooing at him. “Come on, time to go outside,” she gave him one last scratch behind his ear before slipping her feet into her sandals. She hummed softly as she made her way out of her bedroom and towards the back, Faolan trailing next to her. She slid the door open, just enough for Faolan to be able to go out and come back in when he was ready.

Donna moved into the kitchen and began her routine. The coffee machine gurgled as it heated the water. The stove clicked as the burner came on; eggs were taken out, along with some chopped vegetables she had chopped earlier in the week for omelets.

As she closed the door to the refrigerator, a paper stuck to the door caught her eye.

‘July 9, Mom’s Birthday’ was written in huge letters, taking up the whole paper. It made Donna beam, warmth settling into her heart. She ran her fingertips over the word ‘mom’.

The warm was very slowly replaced by guilt. Donna was sure that Ally would have liked to have done something to celebrate, but Donna had to work. She had already take a long weekend for July 4rth, she had to go into work. Not to mention, what kind of summer could she offer Ally when Donna had to work? She dropped her hand back down to her side, letting out a tired sigh.

Ally had not said anything, but Donna could not help feeling terrible when she thought of all the things they could be doing if Donna did not work. Yet, if Donna did not work, they would have no money to do anything at all. She let out a breath in exasperation.

The sound of crinkling from the pan had her snapping out of her thoughts. She rushed to lower the heat, before beginning to crack the eggs and scattering the vegetables inside the pan as well. Faolan roamed back inside, sniffing around her, looking at her hoping for any scraps. Gently, she pushed him, giving him a look which he of course ignored.

Suddenly, she was tackled hug making her stumble back. Ally was clutching at her legs tightly, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I wanted to wake up early and sing happy birthday and make you breakfast! I’m sorry!” she mumbled into Donna’s thighs, making Donna chuckle softly.

Gently, she pried Ally’s arms off before crouching down to be eye level with her, “having you in my life, is already the best birthday present,” she told Ally, teasingly taping her nose. Ally pouted, “you say that about every day.” Donna leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ally’s forehead, “that is because every day I’m thankful for you,” she answered honestly, before getting back to her feet.

“Now take a seat, breakfast is ready,” she motioned for Ally to sit. Donna hummed as she placed half of the omelet on a plate for Ally, and the other half went on a plate for herself.

“Do you have a lot of work today?” Ally asked as she picked up her fork, legs swinging back and forth.

The answered was yes, she really should stay the whole day. Probably find some time to catch up as well. But Donna just knew that Ally wanted to do something, anything….Donna did not want to tell her that as you got older, birthdays were not a big deal. So what, Donna was now 48, it was your everyday Thursday. That would disappoint Ally, and Donna could not bare to see her daughter sadden so she did the only thing she could.

“Nope, I figured by lunch time, we could go out to lunch and then spend the afternoon at the beach, hmm?” Donna offered, pleased when Ally cheered, getting off her seat to hug Donna, before rushing out to get ready.

Well, work was not going to go anywhere. She would finish it at some point, she always did.

Besides, it was her birthday, what better excuse for a half day? She thought with a smirk.

#;drabble #v. i believe in miracles #the queue of donna

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etienne-devereux · 5 years

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The Lion’s Roar | Tien & Faolan

Date: September 8th, 2020 Time: 4:57PM Location: Heat of the Moment smithy

@faolanmeadowes

“She doesn’t talk back or anything, does she?” Tien said as he entered the back room of the shop with the key he had been given early in his stay. Faolan was crouched down from his chair towards Aoife, who was wagging in time with the Gaelic words that he was murmuring. Living alone now, check. Working semi-constantly, check. And now he was talking to the dog, so he really needed to lean on his sister to get her back here. Clearly her old man was two steps from the deep end or at the very least, desperately lonely. Letters weren’t enough, neither was FaceTiming from the wilderness. In the meantime though, he’d keep his quasi brother in law company. “Can’t say I ever got it clear on what you Fae types can and can’t do, so I thought I’d ask.” Etienne waved his sketchbook at Faolan by way of segue, then sat at the table with him. If ever a man could look like he carried the weight of a thousand years in his eyes it was Faolan, but that was the rub, was it? You lived and lived and lived, each year leaving a bit of weight behind on your shoulders. He knew that feeling. “Alright, I’m able, I’m ready. What’s this wild ass plan of yours? It better include that back porch, that thing is starting to rot like a son of a bitch. And the roof needs love, mon frère.”

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aethelar · 6 years

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At age eleven, tiny Newt Scamander walks down the middle of a hall that is large, and loud, and filled with people. He keeps his gaze forwards and focused on the hat. He doesn’t stop to consider the floating candles (there are six hundred and twenty three and they float at four distinct heights; Newt would suspect there were four different levitating charms keeping them afloat but he doesn’t have enough information to say for sure; the wax that drips down each one curls underneath and forms an extension to the candle stem, it isn’t allowed to drip onto anything below; if there are six hundred and twenty three candles at four distinct heights then there are not an even number of candles at each height and this is inconsistent) as he passes because he doesn’t want to be distracted. He focuses on the hat.

When it drops over his head, he greets it. Theseus warned him that the hat would talk, and conversations have a pattern. This is the pattern: Hello, my name is Newt Scamander. It’s nice to meet you.

The hat pauses, almost as though it’s thinking, before understanding clicks and it finishes the pattern. Hello Newt. I don’t have a name, but you can call me Hat. It’s nice to meet you too. And that’s it; simple, easy. Newt tries to think of things that would be useful for the hat to know, and the hat says a polite thank you to each one. Newt answers you’re welcome every time.

Goodbye, Hat, he says when he’s sorted, because that’s how conversations end. Goodbye Newt, the hat echoes, and Newt walks past the floating candles to an empty seat at the Hufflepuff table. It’s a good start.

It continues to be a good start. There’s more food than Newt has ever seen before, and most of it is unfamiliar. He doesn’t think he’s allowed to taste each thing, so he evaluates carefully based on appearance and smell, and it’s hard to do that while keeping up with the conversation flying over his head. He ends up eating not much (potatoes, mashed potatoes) and saying less, but he knows everyone’s name and he knows that Mathilda likes to be called Maddy and never Tilly and that Jason has three pet goldfish named after Greek heroes that he hasn’t brought and that Anna's face lit up when she saw the sticky toffee pudding but she didn’t ask for it to be passed which means she didn’t get any and that seems a shame to Newt. He considers for a while the idea that she didn’t want it in the first place, but he’s spent years practising his observations on the hippogriffs and the crups and the kneazles and he’s pretty sure he was right when he thought she did.

He stays awake for a long time that evening, sorting the information. He wishes he could go back to the hall and see it again because the ceiling is enchanted but he didn’t look at it; it was important to follow the conversations and he had to prioritise. By the time he falls asleep he’s decided that the candles were held by the same charm but powered by different people; that would account for the differing heights they levitated at, and the way that one set began to dip and bob mid way through the feast but the other sets didn’t. It still didn’t explain why the total number of candles wasn’t divisible by four.

There is a lot of magic, Newt finds, that isn’t explained. In class they are taught to swish and flick, pronounce it Wingardium Leviosa with a stress on the o, and make the feather fly - but why, Newt wants to know, does the o matter when Faolan Doyle is saying his spell in an Irish accent and Daniel Rowe has flattened his vowels like they do in Yorkshire, and both of them have made their feathers fly? He swishes his wand in a perfect mimicry and pronounces the words exactly the way he was told, and nothing happens. He wants to ask how to make his magic go through the wand, how to use his words to shape it, what the wand is for and why he has to hold it in his right hand and not his left, but the end of class comes and he hasn’t worked out how to phrase his question yet.

Later, three classes down the line when his feather is unmoving and still, the professor pulls him aside. You just have to feel it, she says. Don’t overthink it - I can see from your homework that you’re the type to. Magic’s simpler than that, just let it do what comes naturally.

Very little comes naturally to Newt. He is learning at a frightening pace, picking up new patterns and slotting in new social cues and unravelling the secrets of the moving staircases (they aren’t random at all - Newt sat on the balcony with his legs hanging over the edge and watched twelve staircases for four hours and it’s easy to see how they work) - but none of it comes fast enough. His yearmates have discarded the old social cues and replaced them with injokes; the injokes change and there’s new conversation; four of them speak at once and they all falter awkwardly when Newt tries to join in. He observes them in the way he will one day observe the magical creatures of the globe, and he makes notes about the way they work in a detailed, meticulous manner that will one day be used to write an encyclopedia of fantastic beasts, but first year Hufflepuffs are unfortunately less consistent and less amenable to being studied that nundus and occamies. There is no mating dance he can learn the steps of to help him here, however hard he tries.

He retreats. Of the owls in the owlery, three are distressed. Perhaps they belong to muggleborns who aren’t used to their care, but Newt doesn’t concern himself with that - owls are avian and hippogriffs are part avian and he works out which things he knows can apply to the new situation and researches the gaps in his knowledge. He adjusts their diets to match their needs and writes helpful letters to their owners with recommendations for them. He swaps the perches around until he finds the best groupings of each owl’s favourite perch with their favourite neighbours. He curls against the wall in the corner and does his homework, soothed by the familiar space with the familiar sounds and the forty four familiar birds overhead.

At Christmas he gives his yearmates things he thinks they’ll want. Jason gets an underwater plant for his goldfish aquarium, the one he mentioned at the welcoming feast but has apparently lost interest in since then. He never said he lost interest. Newt didn’t know. Anna gets a sticky toffee pudding that Newt had asked the elves for specially, but she looks at him weirdly, and Newt doesn’t know why. Leta Lestrange brandishes the soft knitted scarf at him and asks if she looks like a girl who likes rainbow colours, and Newt stutters out a yes, because she always chooses the trowels with the brightly coloured handles in herbology, and she fiddled with her lumos in charms until she could make it cycle through the rainbow, and she arranges bananas and strawberries and blueberries on her plate at breakfast into patterns and stripes even when she’s running late, and these are things that Newt has observed and the common thread is that Leta Lestrange is a girl who likes rainbow colours.

Leta squints at him, considering. She follows him for the rest of the day, watching him, and it makes Newt nervous because it’s not what she usually does. She keeps following him, scrunching her nose at the way he talks to his owls in gentle murmurs, leaning over his shoulder when he writes his essays, chewing her hair as she studies him. She presses in too close and crowds him and he flinches back and away, elbows rising to ward her off, and she raises an eyebrow in surprise and shuffles back on the sofa. She doesn’t leave.

“Don’t you have to think?” she asks, when he’s almost finished his transfiguration homework. “Or just pause a little?”

“I thought before I started,” he says, hoping that’s the answer she wants, and keeps copying down the essay he wrote in his head. She hums and bites her nails, and Newt has no idea what that means.

Newt has just got used to Leta staring when she starts talking. The change is sudden - she walks beside him now, casually touching him and hugging him and messing with his hair when they’re sat down. He ducks away every time, startling when she doesn’t give him enough warning, skittering away from the hugs she springs out of nowhere - but though she switches to hugging from in front where he can see and never from behind where he can’t, she doesn’t stop hugging him. She talks to him, at him, nonstop and fast and too much information for him to process it all. She claims the seat next to him in class - she tried to make him move to sit next to her but Newt has to baulk at something and he baulks at that - and compares their marks on the theory papers and punches him on the shoulder and calls him a nerd and Newt doesn’t know why.

“We’re friends,” she says when he asks. Newt tries to compare her actions against how he’s always thought friends should act and it doesn’t quite match, but it’s similar. Like hippogriffs and owls. He can do that.

Leta nods, satisfied, and Newt reorientates his world view to include Leta as a friend, and it works.

In five years, Newt will stand with his chin up and refuse to back down from his lie because Leta is a friend and Newt is a Hufflepuff and both friends and Hufflepuffs are loyal. There is no force on earth that will move him from this, because this is a fact, and this is right, and this is how the world is. Leta will duck her head and look away in shame and try not cry and Newt won’t understand that part, but that will come after. Newt will stick to his lie and be expelled with a stubbornness born of knowing he’s doing the right thing, and he’ll never once regret it.

For now though Newt sits next to Leta and allows her to play with his hair and, when she notices him thinking, explains to her how he’s noticed that the bowtruckles in the forbidden forest prefer some trees over others and that he thinks there’s a pattern to it, a reason behind it, and he’s working out what it is. She continues to call him a nerd, but she says, once, that it’s a term of endearment (”You utter sap, I mean it in a nice way. If I ever insult you I’ll let you know in advance, ok? Honestly.”) so that’s ok.

Midway through the summer term, Newt finally puts together how to “feel” his magic and he runs through the entire year’s repertoire in one glorious sitting. They’re only first year spells but they’re first year spells that he’s been failing to perform for months now, and there’s something giddy about knowing that he can do them when he has all the steps in place.

Leta punches his shoulder, which Newt has learnt means she’s proud of him, and calls him a “genius boy, now sit down and tell me exactly how you did that because wow.” It takes two cups of tea for Newt to fully explain how he drew his magic out and pushed it into the right places and the right shapes, and Leta nods her way through the entire thing and declares she knew from the start that he was brilliant.

He doesn’t have many friends. Any, he doesn’t have any friends aside from Leta, and his teachers sometimes despair, and Hogwarts runs like a ticking clock beneath the magic and the chaos but there’s still too much magic and chaos sometimes to keep track. But Newt and Leta run away from the feasts and hide in the owlery with mashed potatoes and spinach pie and fourty four owls overhead, and Leta’s wearing a rainbow hairclip because anyone who pays attention can see that she loves colours even if she’s shy about showing it, and she still talks too fast but she also pauses for Newt to catch up and think through his replies and it’s a good start, Newt’s first year at Hogwarts.

It’s an excellent start.

#newt scamander #leta lestrange #autistic newt scamander #my writing #ALSO #i am an absolute WORM and i'm so sorry #i wrote this over a year ago and never got round to posting it #and i CAN'T REMEMBER WHO HELPED ME WITH IT #so #if it was you #please let me know so i can tag you

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thefairefolk-rp · 6 years

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Hey, Razmadi! Your application for Ingrid Faolan has been accepted.

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Nickname: Razmadi

Age: 21

Preferred Pronouns: she/her

Timezone: CST

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10): As usual so like a 5-7 I guess? I don’t really know how those numbers work so….

Have you read the rules and FAQ? Yep

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character: Ingrid Faolan

Second Choice Character: Tallulah Dill

What made you choose this character?: For one it’s probably one of the first muses I’ve had in a while that Balthazar fucking Black didn’t eat. And secondly, I really loved her bio and how it was all constructed so I could understand her personality better. But I also really loved her personality as a whole, the logical, analytical mind and the subtly intense fighting power to back it up, really jumpstarted some muse on her. (Yes, it also jumpstarted plot ideas on her too, shoot me)

Are there any changes you would like to make?: No

Questions/Comments: In Ingrid’s bio it says she was defeated by a young fighter aka Kasha but I checked the ages and Kasha is actually older? Also, Ingrid’s bio reads like she’s older than 620. I was just wondering if that piece in her bio was a typo or was the age put down wrong?

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third-person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

I should have expected it, Ingrid thought bitterly. She had been too vocal as of late, too proud. And now it was coming to bite her. Those thoughts didn’t stop her from staring down at the letter with barely concealed fury and anguish. Kasha Greywolf was planning to have her assassinated. Ingrid had had some respect for her, she had beat her for the position of chieftain after all and not anyone could do that and she had the potential to become a great leader, or so Ingrid had thought. It was all washed away, however, under the rise of her absolute fury and disgust. That Greywolf bastard could at least have the decency to face Ingrid herself! Instead, she was sending a lowly assassin to do it? The respect she had for Kasha went up in smoke, leaving hatred and fear in its place. She couldn’t stay here, she realized. Kasha Greywolf was chieftain of the Wolf Clan. That could not be denied and that same Kasha Greywolf wanted Ingrid dead. If Kasha was low enough to send an assassin instead of facing her then Ingrid had little doubt in her mind she could do so much more. She was chieftain, she could turn the entire clan against Ingrid and then where would she be? A fate such as that chilled her to the bone. No, she wouldn’t let it happen, she would leave them first. A lone wolf was still a wolf, she would survive and that was what mattered in the end. With that thought in her mind, Ingrid began to pack her things quickly and silently, pausing every few moments to check for sounds of wakefulness among the clan. She could not wait, no, she must leave tonight, before dawn broke. It was her only chance and she would not squander it.

It was difficult, she soon realized, to choose what she should take and what she should leave. Call her sentimental but Ingrid could hardly bear the thought of Kasha destroying her things so easily. So the furs from previous hunts came, her armor, swords, bow and arrows and her last gift from Ian, a beautifully crafted spear, were all lovingly added to the wagon she had been preparing. Her warning letter had already been destroyed, no pieces remained to set Kasha on her trail. Her raven, Neve, and her stallion were collected last. The stallion quickly hooked up to the wagon, his lead firmly in her hand. With one last look back Ingrid disappeared silently into the woods just as the snow started to silently fall.

Arriving at Roheim was both a blessing and a curse in Ingrid’s opinion. She shouldn’t have had to flee here at all and yet here she was seeking refuge with the only ally she knew of. Titania was a threat she knew; with her closeness to Kasha Greywolf how could she be anything but? But Ingrid had no other options and no other place to run to, it was Roheim or death and Ingrid, above all else, was a survivor. Leaving her stallion and wagon in the care of the stablehand, Neve perched on her shoulder, she went to face the Unseelie king.

Ingrid did not want to bow to this man, but she had no choice, so bow she did. An offer of protection was extended and rooms in the castle itself, it was more than she could have hoped for, yet it still felt like a cage. A gilded cage for a lone wolf, it felt suffocating and silent, lonely, her mind supplied. It was horribly lonely. So very different from wolf clan wildness and community, she couldn’t help but hate it a little bit, and that made her hate Kasha all the more.

Offering a final bow to the Unseelie king, a king with too cold eyes, she responded respectfully, “Thank you for your offer of protection, your majesty, I will gratefully accept.” She would survive this king with too cold eyes, she would survive Kasha Greywolf and her deadly motives, and she would survive this gilded cage full of secrets. Ingrid would further cover herself in ice and stone to shield herself from the betrayal of others. She would survive this, she had to.

#accepted

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6fu · 7 years

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Letters from friends, Summer 1148

Hello Zeke, My name is Sylvia. I don’t think you know me.Maybe you do, I was so little back then I don’t remember much. When I think about the… old neighborhood I’m not sure what’s memory and what’s old dreams. Anyway! Henson and I still write, and he told me that you met. He sounded proud, like you were doing something he couldn’t. I’ve been doing things too! There’s a brand new settlement called Wildseed and I’m their youngest, most eager weaver. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone, but that’s the game. Sorry, you probably think I’m being too familiar, but after spending so much time with Guard and knowing someone like us is part of it, I wanted to see if we could be friends from afar. -from Sylvia

To Marx, of the disgraced order of Lockhaven, I know what you have done and there is no devious excuse you can devise to cover your malcontent tracks. Before, I thought your acceptance was a single black mark on the Guard, an otherwise honorable organization. Now, I see my mistake. You sent an entire Patrol to evade your exile, burgle my home, abuse my trust, and purloin my personal property. Our course is clear, and I have communicated the same to your maligned matriarch. Woodstuff’s Grove will no longer have any business with Lockhaven. We will ask no support from, and provide no means to, the Mouse Guard. No silk of our farms will go to your keep or cloaks. Any intermediary who attempts to circumvent this policy will find themselves similarly cut off. No more shall I be loyal to my sorrowful country. -The Honorable Mayor Cavre

Isolde! It’s your good buddy Loomis! Thanks again for helping my friend, even though we aren’t that close after it all happened. She’s dealing with making a new life, in like, a way bigger way than most people mean it, so I get it. But I wish she made time to talk with me about why I never knew about this guy or this plan. I’m responsible, right? It’s like there’s big things and there’s little things, and some mice think they’re separate and some think the big things are piles of the little things. That’s why I like you, Isolde. You’re aware enough it doesn’t confound you. But anyway, look at me going on about someone else when I’m trying to talk to you. I’m just all messed up and you were a real good listener. I have other friends, I have other things to do. I just thought I was one of the big things. -Loomis

Hey Tander! How’d your first two seasons on Patrol go? I bet you’re already looking forward to winter, wondering if you’ll get a cloak or a second year as a tenderpaw. Maybe even wondering if you want this to be your career. It’s okay, I know I did around that time. How many times I’ve stood here mapping things out differently. But I can’t go back. This is my life now. It’s one I’m proud of. I’m pretty good at it. From the gossip I catch, you are too. What color do you think Francisca’s going to give you? -Taryn, Guardsmouse

For the eyes of Fancisca alone: Wildseed still grows. The work continues as it becomes a Haven. Some discreet builders are working on some projects for me that I’ll have to share with you as one of our number. I have to say I was upset with your partner’s insistence on a triumvirate; I’ve never been the best at compromise or persuasion. But, I’ve come to appreciate the ability to share the load. You can understand. Guardsmice are hunters, couriers, diplomats, and whatever else the territories need. Are there days when you don’t want to face being everything to all? Anyhow; let’s pledge to share any information we find regarding our shared quest with one another. -Faolan, councilor of Wildseed

To Sable, We’ve never met but I owe you my life. I thought for sure everything was ruined when Robin crested the ridge and we rushed our plans but thanks to you Rosalee met me in jail and we busted out. I can’t tell you where we are, or what names we’re using, but we want you to know that we thank your patrol every day for bending the law to uphold justice so we can live the best part of our lives so far. Thanks to you we’re young and united, fighting of course, and happy to be. -the late Duncan Hodai

Lily, Where have your patrols been taking you? I’ve been painting some of my favorite places repeatedly; trying to use the same subjects to illustrate new moods. Thank you again for showing me the view from under Oak Bridge. There’s a certain time of year when the evening shadows- well, I’ll show you I’m sure. There was a huge hubbub here when an accused murderer and a thief escaped. I hope they don’t hurt anybody. They had better watch out for you out there! I almost did a study of the townsmice’s faces of fearful gossip, but dignifying distraction only beautifies a mess.

No, I haven’t heard from Spicket; but I’m sure his account of the snake is a total lie. -Mira

#6FU #Six Feats Under #Mouse Guard #letters #world building

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bookaddict24-7 · 7 years

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One of the really cool things about being best friends with a published author is that you get to ask her questions about her experiences as an author (and hopefully learn from her actions). Kelsey Bhatia is a self-published author with the special gift of writing beautiful and timely stories. Hopefully you all enjoy our interview and learn something about what it’s like being a published author AND hopefully you’ll be adding her book to your TBRs!

“Kelsey Bhatia is an active reader and writer in Toronto, Canada. She graduated from the University of Toronto with an Honours Degree in English, but has been writing since she was eight-years-old. The Light in the Dark is her debut self-published novel, and the first of an ongoing series.“

Check out her website here.

Follow her social media:

Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

1. Hi Kelsey! Can you pinpoint the moment you knew you wanted to be an author? What advice can you give other young writers about following the author's path?

“When I look back on it I realize I’d always loved writing or making stories. I made colourful little novels out of construction paper and crayons, and I had some of the best games of “pretend” a kid could have. I also lied a lot but don’t do that one...

I’m pretty sure I knew for a fact I wanted to be a writer shortly after reading Cornelia Funke’s book, Inkheart. There was something about the story, and the way it was a book about books, that awoke something in me that has yet to go back to sleep. It was just a little while after that book that I wrote my first legitimate novel. Albeit I was twelve but I think it counts. That’s probably when the passion really started.

As for advice? I guess I’d just say never stop imagining. Or reading. I’ve always found the two seem to coincide...”

2. Can you tell us what your writing process is like and how you handle the stress of writing?

“I waste a lot of time. Friends and family will say that’s a lie, but I really do. And then I write in bursts. Long, long bursts that usually leave me exhausted and in pain (tendonitis is unpleasant. Make sure you stretch!). When I’m feeling particularly stressed about something I’m working on, I take a break to explore other works. I’ll watch a movie in a similar vein as my project, or read a book that falls in the same genre or theme. I find that helps me solve dilemmas or find inspiration to get back to it, and sometimes you really just have to blink and step back.”

3. The Light in the Dark is a super promising fantasy series. What are some of the themes in fantasy that you loved exploring in your novel?

“I love fantasy in general, but high fantasy like this was a new road for me. I love using fantasy to explore real world issues, though, so I had a lot of fun working with that in The Light in the Dark. Racism, colonialism, war, sexism, abuse...I find it fascinating to explore themes we deal with in reality through the fantastic, and I’m pretty sure most fantasy novels do this too.

But also I’m a huge folklore nut. I’ve always loved Faeries ever since I was young, so getting to incorporate them into my work was endlessly fun. I got to craft them the way I wanted them to be, the way I always imagined they would be like, but I also did a lot of research for them as well. And magic. Boy do I like magic and ancient powers and the good and the bad, the light and the dark ;)”

4. Who were some of your writing influences and will we see anything that reminds us of them in your future books?

“Because this was high fantasy, some of my favourite authors don’t necessarily apply here, but I’ll list some faves regardless. Cornelia Funke, Sarah J Maas, Rainbow Rowell, Leigh Bardrugo, Maggie Steifvater, Becky Albertalli, and wow so many more...

As to whether you’ll see anything that reminds you of them in my work? I mean probably? As they are influences, I’m sure there will be some aspects that might seem related. Maas, for example, is probably the closest you could examine for The Light in the Dark, but that’s just fantasy I suppose. You could even argue Tolkein was an influence. To both of us.”

5. In a world where traditional publishing is becoming harder to achieve, can you tell us the merits of self-publishing and why it's such a great route for future writers?

“I’d argue that it’s not harder to achieve as much as it just takes a lot of work. I’ve read some professionally published works that were pretty bad, but then I’ve read some self published works that were incredible, so I really have no idea how it works. I think it’s a very selective market, and it’s hard to sell yourself and your work, but self publishing is becoming a great way to start yourself off. A foothold or calling card that might even be better than a query letter. AND it’s beneficial for getting an idea of what putting your work out there is like. It can get you recognition and be something under your belt that agents and publishers can look at when considering signing you.

But also it makes you a published author. Whether it’s an ebook, a small stack of printed copies, or some big self publishing package, you are an author the moment someone reads your work and likes it. Would it be nice to see The Light in the Dark in a Chapters or Barnes & Noble? Absolutely, But seeing it on iBooks, Kobo, and Kindle doesn’t make me any less of a writer.”

“Rose Burke has been trained to see the Fae as enemies. Conscripted by a mad King for her gift of the Sight, she has spent years isolating herself to become the best of the Scouts—a team dedicated to fighting the Fae. But Rose’s first patrol in the Fae’s forest goes horribly wrong. Rescued then abandoned by an elven noble, Rose is captured and taken to the wicked Lord Caitiff, the ruler of a brutal Fae Court. Forced into servitude to save her life, Rose is gifted as a pet to the very elf that saved her in the woods, Faolan. With the once great Court divided into factions—Lokkalfar and Dokkalfar Fae, light and dark—Rose discovers truths about the ancient wars that makes her question all she’s ever known. Desperate to keep another civil war from tearing the Fae apart, Faolan entangles her into his plot to bring down Lord Caitiff, and Rose vows to help keep the Fae tyrant from gaining more power— A power that, long ago, brought down an entire human army.“

You can add Kelsey’s book to your TBR on Goodreads here.

Buy Kelsey’s book:

Amazon (CA) | Amazon (US) | Kobo

Thank you, Kelsey for stopping by! I hope you all enjoyed her interview! Keep an eye out for the next interview being hosted by another blogger (more information will be on Kelsey’s website), and a special announcement.

Happy reading!

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shotsfiredxiv · 7 years

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Strange Mission

Private Bob had spent days trying to put out the flames caused by the last mission he went on. The Maelstrom leading a mission that resulted in loss of Ishgardian life needed to be explained...quickly. After Bob had sent in his report, the higher-ups have been dealing with the Ishgardians for the most part. Still, the circumstances of the whole thing deeply troubled Bob.

The Maelstrom was sent a letter promising a lead on the whereabouts of Faolan. Private Bob already knew that it was probably a trap, but they didn’t have anything else to go on. The members of Faolan’s old company had assisted with the mission as well, and they were able to investigate separate parts of Dusk Vigil. They only found one thing that linked this to Faolan: one of his lost research journals.

However, they didn’t find much else. They simply fought their way through dragons that weren’t really dragons, and the Night Blades went through undead that weren’t really undead. Bob had assumed that they were elaborate glamours, but it was almost...too much to be something like that. One of the Night Blades had mentioned that foul magicks were at play, but Bob didn’t know what kind of magic that could possibly be. Whatever it was, it used Ishgardian citizens to appear as something else. They thought they were killing real threats. Whatever it was, it was a trap. Someone was determined not to allow them to find Private Faolan.

The Night Blades were also able to get information from one of the citizens. Something about the Dravanian Hinterlands...

@maelstrom-command

#ffxiv #i'm sorry this is like all over the place

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hogwarts-is-our-destiny · 8 years

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Hogwarts Is Our Destiny 1.3

Cassie Shale stood nervously between Platforms 9 and 10 at King’s Cross Station, not quite sure how she should proceed. Her mother and toddler brother, Charlie, stood with her, but she knew they could not follow her where she was going. She had a trolley for her luggage and on top of it sat the cage that housed her recently purchased great horned owl, Farron, as the tag on it’s cage read. The large bird seemed to be giving her a judgmental stare with with its large, golden eyes.

Cassie took a deep breath and tried to gather the courage to say goodbye and pass through the magic barrier in the wall that apparently led to Platform 9 3/4, the one she was supposed to be on. So far she had seen two family’s pass through, but they were all witches and wizards and were able to pass through freely. Cassie turned around to face her family.

“I’m really going to miss both of you,” Cassie said, moving in to give each of them a warm embrace.

“I love you, Cassie,” said her mom, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “The Deputy Headmistress assured me that you will be taken care of, and you can always send us letters with the owl that we bought you...though I still find it odd that nobody has telephones where you’re going...” She looked concerned for a moment, but Cassie smiled.

“I’ll be okay, Mom. I’ll send plenty of letters and keep you and Charlie updated. Have fun with the little rascal while I’m gone.”

As Cassie bent down to hug Charlie, her mom gave a small chuckle that ended in a short sigh. “Oh, I’m sure Charlie will find some way to entertain himself while his big sister is away at school.”

Instead of letting Charlie go, Cassie lifted him up in her arms and he giggled. “I’m going to miss you especially, Charlie.”

“Miss joo, Cassie,” Charlie answered. He still hadn’t figured out how to pronounce words that started with “y”. Cassie thought it made him cuter, and simply smiled at him.

He’ll be so big the next time I see him, Cassie thought sadly, already missing her younger brother, despite him still being in her arms. Putting on a brave face, Cassie set Charlie back down next to her mom and then turned back to her cart.

Nearby, Cassie noticed another girl with a similar trolley preparing to cross over to Platform 9 3/4. She had auburn hair and a kind face, and she seemed to notice Cassie at the exact same time.

“I’m sorry, were you about to go? I’ve never done this before, so you go ahead,” the girl said, and Cassie was relieved to see some of her nervousness mirrored at her from this girl.

“I’ve never done this before either...” Cassie trailed off.

“Want to try it together? We could go at the same time,” the girl offered.

“Yeah,” Cassie agreed. “Let’s do it.”

Both of them turned to wave one last goodbye to their families before steeling their resolve to rush toward the red brick wall.

“Ready...now!”

Both girls rushed forward with their luggage, keeping pace with one another to cover the distance to the wall. Cassie closed her eyes, just as her cart appeared to make contact with the wall, half expecting to collide with it, despite having seen others cross through before her.

Opening her eyes, Cassie saw the train station transform before her. There were many families dressed in odd attire and all were guiding students toward a massive train labeled as the Hogwarts Express.

“I’m Aspen Lennox, by the way,” the girl introduced herself to Cassie.

“Cassie Shale,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same here. Want to sit together on the train?”

“I would like that, actually,” Cassie agreed, happy to have made a new friend so easily. Together, Cassie and Aspen boarded the train and found an empty cabin to settle into.

“I noticed the bird you had in your cage wasn’t an owl. What kind of bird is it?” Cassie asked, making conversation.

"Oh, Camy's a kestrel." Aspen said, and then suddenly looked nervous. "I know the form said owl, but I thought it would be okay to bring him; he's kind of like an owl-- he can still deliver letters for me. It's only, I thought it would be better if it was a bird that wouldn't be so sleepy in the daytime, because that's when I want to send the most letters, you see? They’ll let me keep him, right?"

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Cassie answered, honestly not knowing whether or not it would be fine. “Maybe nobody will notice.”

Aspen nodded, though her uncertainty didn’t entirely vanish.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by a pair of talkative boys.

“I’m Merlin Merlin, and this is Faolan Dey. Mind if we join you?” said the boy with ginger hair and bright blue eyes. The other boy, Faolan, smiled at them from beside Merlin.

Both Cassie and Aspen seemed surprised by their arrival.

“Is your name really Merlin Merlin?” Aspen wondered aloud.

The boy laughed heartily. “It is. My family changed our last name to Merlin to reclaim some of our heritage--we are the true descendants of the famed Merlin of old--and my name was already Merlin at the time. But I told my parents that I didn’t mind. Now I have twice as much connection to Merlin.”

Merlin claimed the open seat beside Cassie, while Faolan sat across from him next to Aspen. They seemed nice enough, though Cassie would have preferred a quieter train ride. However, it was nice to have company and potentially more friends than when she arrived at the station. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

[next chapter]

#hogwarts is our destiny #hiod #cassie

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faolanmeadowes · 5 years

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TIMESKIP HEADCANON

CHARACTER NAME: Faolan Meadowes / Faolan Meallán / Faolan a Mór Ríoghain

AGE IN JULY 2020: somewhere over 1508.

APPEARANCE: His beard is more scruff than anything and he has no intentions of growing it out again. His demeanor hasn’t changed much overall in the last year and, if anything, he’s a little more tense than usual while he battles his own demons.

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Apartment above the blacksmith.

ROOMMATES: Aoife (dog)

OCCUPATION: owner @ Heat of the Moment blacksmith.

KEY RELATIONSHIPS:

Sabine Devereux: friend

Gabriel Maddox: son

Cora Meadowes: sister

Katia Kjar: friend, niece-in-law via his wife

Aurélie Marchand: daughter-in-law

Fiona Laughlin: niece

Arthur Talbot: brother-in-law, semi-friend

Riley Voss: niece-in-law, semi friend

Damien & Peter Cadoc: friend

Ivy Sloane: friend, apprentice

SIGNIFICANT EVENTS AND/OR DEVELOPMENT DURING THE TIME SKIP:

June 2019: Sabine’s attack during the catalyst ended with her being turned into a vampire. The subsequent weeks following are spent supporting her recovery while also battling with his own guilt for making this decision for her.

July 2019: Still not fully recovered from using up all his powers to save Gabriel, but he can at least heal small things once more. His empathy is also locked up tightly once more.

October 2019: grudgingly accepts that Arthur and Riley will be apart of Cora’s life and therefore his life indefinitely. Now refers to them as Mr. Arthur and Ms. Riley instead of “bloodsuckers”.

his niece and nephew are born.

January 2020-April 2020: The restless feeling in Lethe has returned with the arrival of his niece and nephew on October 31st. With the resurge in painful memories and the absence of Sabine, Faolan decides to travel for a time. He visits his family’s grave, takes long walks, and ultimately tries to come to terms with things.

May 2020: Returns to Lethe, he misses his son, his sister, and basically his family. The distance between he and Sabine is still there, still something that he’s struggling to fix and he sends her letters bi-weekly to make sure she’s okay.

July 2020-onward: He doesn’t care about the Riverborn situation, but he does care if the town decides to lose its collective shit again. He’s focusing on work and overcoming his distaste of vampires considering everyone in his family loves one, with little success.

#lethe: timeskip #headcanon

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sorreltail · 8 years

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ill delete this soon

bad cop hogwarts au

@pouncival

points to cover: houses, prefect stuff, meetings, classes, Naughty Stuff, other cats, pets, life after hogwarts, quidditch >:((, HYDRATION, teachers, uhhhhh and anything else i can think of

HOUSES: rumples a gryffindor. the sorting hat took about three seconds. alonzos a hufflepuff even tho his family have always been ravenclaws and he desperately wanted to be a gryffindor, he cried after the sorting ceremony also: jenny is huffpuff head, skimble is p much hagrid, jelly is raven, gus is gryffdor and grizabella is slytherin,,, headmaster deuteronomy lmao

PREFECT STUFF: alonzos a prefect. Obviously, i mean come on. he takes it so seriously,,, hes already dating rumple when he becomes one and she delights in the fact that he can sometimes b persuaded to let her go with a warning bc yo thats what u get for fucking a prefect,,, once she wanted to get in ravenclaw tower and she didnt know the answer to the riddle so she was like "LONZYYY I HAVE A RIDDLE THAT I NEED TO FIND THE ANSWER TO FOR HOMEWORRKKKKK" and hes a library fiend so he spent like an hour looking it up and then he told her and she was like "ok thanks im going off 2 ravenclaw tower now" and he was so distraught he took ten points from hufflepuff for helping her. the other prefects Donut Understand their relationship ghdkhgd bc mungo and rumple r worse than fred and george but eventually it gets to the point where they catch her doin some rulebreaking and shes like... do u seriously feel like dealing with me so they just go get alonzo. she gets drunk on firewhisky one time and he takes her back up to gryffindor tower and spends ten minutes trying to get the fat lady to let her in but the fat lady is annoyed and refusing and it goes like "rumple tell her the password" "nooOooOoOooOo" "do you know the password" ">:3c" "rumple teLL HER THE PASSWORD" for another half hour and eventually gives up and decides to wait for the next gryffindors to come along and let her in but the next one to come along is mungo and then its twice as bad when alonzo becomes head boy (munk is the year above them) he cries, and rumple opens her letter like I GOT HEAD GIRL??!!!!????? and hes like. What. and shes like hehehehehe just kidding who the fuck do u think i am,, also. prefects bathroom. he ends up letting her find out the password and then shes constantly in there and then Somehow (i wonder how) mungo finds out and then they have to change it before the whole school knows,,, oh my god the other prefects tease him so much and at first hes like eh..heh...yeah but after a while hes like fuck off please, stop shittalking my girlfriend to me, and he gets a wee bit defensive about it so they give up especially in their final year when hes head boyyyy

QUIDDITCH: OKAY so alonzo wanted to play quidditch as a seeker bc ofc he did right?? i mean theres so many rules. such nice uniforms. but he never made the tryouts bc he wasnt willing to take the risks needed to get the golden thingy (also, vitiligo, hes got autoimmune shit and he has 2 b careful w his health),,, rumple however. rumples grown up loving the harpies and desperately wanting to be a beater. then she meets mungo and the two of them are fucking terrifying beaters, they are So Good, its honestly the only reason why gryffindor hasnt lost the house cup every fucking year, them helping win p much every game kind of balances out all the points they lose for being shits lmao,,, we had a thought that she gets hurt sometime in a game, and alonzo is. so terribly smothering he brings in all his books to study by her bed in the hospital wing and takes notes for her and is way too cautious after that and begs her to stop playing and she just. Looks at him. :| anyway she does eventually become quidditch captain nyehehe and so shes captain, hes head boy, they are a glorious power couple,,, the nerds love alonzo, the delinquents and sportheads love rumple, together they are So Respected,, it also means she gets actual access to the prefects bathroom which changes very little except for how sneaky she has to be to get in

MEETINGS: okay so in true hogwarts au fashion they first meet on the train as first years,,, rumple: hi can i sit here (she says as shes sat down) are u muggleborn im a halfblood alonzo: im from an old wzarding family my name is draco malfuck you rumple: wow u sound like an asshole. what house r u gonna be in. im gryffindor alonzo: me too rumple: u dont seem like one alonzo: you do :// rude fuck. this is my owl her name is aegolius im pretentious rumple: cool name. this is my cat her name is gwynog GO HARPIES alonzo: ive never had physical contact with a living thing in my life can i pet her rumple: sure alonzo: soft anyway after they get sorted they never talk again. End Of Au. jks but forreal they dont talk for years until they get their electives and theyre partnered in care of magical creatures and finally talk again and it goes like rumple: hey youre that kid who cried at the sorting ceremony alonzo: rumple: sup somehow the whole Falling In Love part is the one bit we havent really talked about but it happens and its cute

id also like to add that alonzos parents are an old italian wizarding family but they pride themselves on being chic, modern wizards who incorporate certain muggle things, mostly fashion, his mums a fashion designer, so all his clothes are beautiful and tailored and more Modern than most,, ANYWAY they also Want The Best for him and when he tells them who hes dating (A HALFBLOOD RAISED AMONG MUGGLES??? A GIRL BEATER???? LOOK AT HER SCHOOL RECORDS DARLING SHES A DELINQUENT!!!!!!) and they refuse to let him stay at her house or let her come over,,, until he writes home one day like. shes captain of the quidditch team what more do u want shes going to do it professionally) and theyre Sporty Folks who are So Fucking Into Quidditch and by this point theyve realised that she's not turning him into a Bad Kid so they finally accept her

CLASSES: ive forgotten like all of their classes kmn anyway alonzo wants to be an auror. thats all he wants. thats his ambition. so he studies his ass off from day one and gets perfect grades and is a model student. rumple is. perhaps not. just think fred and george thats her and mungo, shes a terror but somehow she still manages to pass everything through an annoying natural talent. alonzos kind of hellbent on making her get good grades and they spend much of their time in the library, hes in there Every Day, he pretty much has a reserved table, rumple sits around practicing jinxes on any unfortunate passerbys and trying to pester him and/or make him kiss her he loves presentations, hes so good at them, he prepares for weeks and then the entire time rumples in the back of class making Naughty Gestures. he chokes on his water when she does presentations theyre short but shes really charismatic so he just kind of sits there staring at her like an idiot because gosh she has a nice voice rumples a pro at brooms obviously, alonzos Hella Nervous on them, he has the best and safest model, she offers to give him private lessons but really its just an opportunity for dick jokes what can u do. he gets her a really good really SAFE and fast broom for christmas one year bc what else does a rich boy get his girlfriend who kicks ass at quidditch which brings me to

NAUGHTY STUFF: kittens look away! look for like. a full three months hes like Im Not Having Sex At School Its Against the rRULES!!!!!! and rumples like. well then we either abstain until we graduate or we can do it at your parents place and. No. The Horror. he changes his mind very quickly. they happen to stumble across the room of requirement a few times when.uh. the need is great. u know how it goes. im also gonna go out on a limb and admit that alonzo is rather fond of the Luxury Baths in the prefects bathroom and rumple is very good at catching him when hes in there and enchanting the door or some shit so nobody disturbs them :-)) this is from one of those hogwarts au headcanon posts but i love it, he gives a presentation on sex ed and shit (lets pretend hogwarts is better than it is) and rumple sits in the back asking the worst questions and inside he wants to scream u KNOW what that is we did it last nIGHT

other cats: yes ok here we go. in their year is misto, victoria, admetus, mungo, coricopat, tantomile and im sure im missing people here, year above them is munk, tugger, deme, bomba, cassandra, macavity (???!!!???) and everyone else is younger by a year or two, also worth mentioning is etcetera being rumples younger sister and theyre adorable and lovely etcetera for president of the world munk and cass or deme are probably head boy and girl of their year, cass is dating tantomile, bombas dating demeter, alonzo has the biggest crush on munk as well (optional polyamory for u fucks) (worth saying that the reason rumple went to sneak into ravenclaw tower was to see victoria btw),,, alonzo and victoria are head boy and girl of their year, and probably jemima andddddddd idk maybe g eorge fuck me man idk admetus is another prefect, so's tantomile tbh,,, id say victoria but she wants to focus on her studies

PETS: alonzo has this beautiful eagle owl, scariest of all owls, her name is aegoleius (pronounced ay-JEE-lee-us) it means bird of prey and he adores her. shes beautifully trained. rumple has a kitty that im personally in love with who is basically rumpleteazer as a cat lol shes a calico but her name is gwenog after the famous beater of the harpies <33333 eventually they'll get another cat thatll be a suspiciously familiar black and white patched triangle shorthair named Faolan (sorta like FWAY-larn) even tho it means little wolf because he thought it sounded cool and he read it in a book and thought it was pronouned faow-lahn, honestly they probably end up getting a whole ton of cats

LIFE AFTER HOGWARTS: WOO im excited for this bit. okay. so. alonzo wants to be an auror. hes spent his whole life training for this. he immediately applies after graduation and gets in and starts his rigorous three year training process. in the meantime rumples gone into professional quidditch, and shes really really good at it but shes like.... this isnt fun anymore. bc its not just a school game anymore, its a professional sport, and what do u mean u cant jinx the opponents!!!! so for a while she just helps him train "ok so if you walk like THIS and use this charm your footsteps will be totally silent blah blah boh my god i should be an auror" and hes like. You. want to be an auror. and shes like. Yup. and its a damn good thing he was so obsessive about her getting good marks bc her newts are good enough that she can apply. they do a criminal record check, but mind u that altho rumples done naughty stuff, shes never actually. Been Caught doing anything particularly bad. so her record is somehoW CLEAN and she gets in. its a miracle. "what did you do. who did you blackmail" "i sucked every single aurors dick lonzy" "HOW DID YOU GET IN" "EVERY! SINGLE! DICK!" but hes also really really prouD AND THAT MEANS THEY CAN HELP EACH OTHER TRAIN!!!!! cue training montage. rumple pulls a tonks and coasts thru a lot of it rlly easily and almost fails some but they both eventually graduate and become aurors and work together and she covers her trenchcoat in patches and he keeps asking if he has to wear his because sweet jesus it is ugly ITS BROWN, and at this point his parents r more than content with rumple lmao, anyway they live together in a lovely little house that is kept in perfect order, rumple enchants EVERYTHING to talk, its cute, fucking domestic shit yes please

HYDRATION LOL look this isnt even important but alonzo is so deeply into that health shit. he only eats dark chocolate, and most importantly he fucking loves spending time in the kitchen with jenny. she cooks, he makes custom face masks, and also infused water. so much infused water. he has different """recipes""" and he always has a bottle of lovely chilled water with fucking apple and ginger and lemongrass shit in it that he made the night before, and since rumple fucking hates drinking anything thats not tropical sunshine punch fruit juice he constantly is trying to figure out a recipe of infused water that she'll drink becUSE ITS NOT HEALTHY RUMPLE!!!!!!!! YOU NEED WATER, but she thinks its disgusting and eventually he gives up and carries a bottle of juice with him in case he sees her because its better than nothing,

yeah ok im,,,,, i assume there will be more to come but for now this is what u get

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