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toomuchracket · 1 year ago

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black cat (dad!ross x reader fluff)

day 28 of promptober, the penultimate fic for me, and the return of dad!ross in fic form!! i like this one a lot. basically... you come home from work, and there's a cat in your gaff. cute! hope you enjoy <3

the first thing you see when you get home is your three year old son sat on the stairs by himself. keir is engrossed in one of the little thomas the tank engine picture books he loves so much, so engrossed that he doesn't even register the door opening, or the rush of cold air into the house that follows.

only when he hears the door close does keir look up. his little face lights up when he sees you, and he slowly sit-shuffles down, a stair at a time, before running to you and wrapping his entire little body around your leg. "hi mummy."

"hi baby," you lean down (with more difficulty than you'd care to admit) and kiss your son's head, shrugging your jacket off as you do. "how are you?"

"sleepy."

"me too, sweetheart," you hang your jacket on the coat stand. "you want up?"

keir nods, raising his arms. with a bit of effort, you scoop him up into your own - it's not that he's too heavy to lift, he's just so long-limbed (a trait he did not inherit from you) that manoeuvring him always takes a second. but it's worth it for the way he snuggles into you and faffs about with the string on your - well, ross's - hoodie.

speaking of ross - "where's dad, keir?"

"kitchen," comes the response, muffled by your jumper. "with eils."

"oh, ok. let's go and find them, yeah?"

keir nods sleepily into your neck, cuddling into you as you wander through the house. the incredibly tidy house, far neater than it was when you left this morning. there isn't a stray piece of lego anywhere, for once, and the carpets, you notice as you pad over them in your socks, have all been vacuumed to perfection. even the mess of blankets on the sofas have been folded - that never happens.

hmmmmm. interesting.

"what did you get up to today, then, baby? did you go to the park?" you nudge keir slightly when you see his eyelids fluttering closed. he's only just gotten past the napping phase, and you and ross are determined not to let him slip back into it.

your son brightens up immediately, and you know exactly what he's about to say. "yeah! me and dad played football. eilidh did cartwheels."

"who won the game?"

keir smiles smugly. "me."

"that's my boy!" you kiss his cheek.

he giggles. it makes your heart happy. "what did you do today, mummy? was your day good?"

oh, bless him. "it was, baby, thank you," you smile. "went to do some planning for when dad goes back to work. saw your auntie - she told me to give you a big hug from her, by the way - and cuddled lyla for a while."

"is the new baby here yet?"

"no, not yet. he will be soon, though."

(imminently, most likely - your friend is extremely, extremely pregnant. like, to the point that you were genuinely concerned about her leaving the house to hang out in a café with you. but she insisted, with an "i had to get out of there. matty's driving me up the fucking wall"; a statement you have also personally related to in life.)

keir hums. "and then he can play football with me."

"well, he won't be able to, for a while," you giggle, lightly poking your son's stomach. "he needs to learn how to walk first, remember."

"oh, yeah," he nods seriously. "maybe we can still get him a kit, though? just so he's ready?"

"i think your auntie and uncle will probably want to buy him his first one, but i'll ask them," you make a mental note to text after dinner. "sound good?"

keir nods again. he smiles, eyes crinkling really cutely, as you kiss his head and continue towards the kitchen. you can smell garlic and herbs and something rich that you can't quite name, wafting through the house quite deliciously; your stomach rumbles at the smell, but your eyes narrow. clean house, dinner on… ross is up to something.

as you near the kitchen, you can hear ross and eilidh whispering to each other through the half-open door. it's difficult to make out what exactly they're saying, over the sound of something bubbling on the stovetop, but they both sound fairly animated.

their backs come into view when you slowly nudge the door open with your hip, and find the two of them standing in front of the sink, bunned heads looking down at something in the basin. that image only lasts a split second, mind you; as soon as they hear the creak of the door (ross didn't fix that today like he's been promising to do for a week, apparently), the two of them spin round to face you so quickly that eilidh nearly falls off her ikea kids stepstool.

her eyes are wide, but ross smiles sweetly at you. "hi, my love. didn't hear you come in. you must've been really quiet."

to the untrained eye and ear, ross would seem completely unfazed right now. but to you, the person who knows him best in the world, his smile is slightly too fixed to be natural, and there's a tiny tremor to his voice… he's freaking out about something. what?

before you can question, though, keir speaks. "yeah, dad, she was quiet. i didn't notice she was there. and then the door closed and i knew."

"keir!" eilidh wails. "you were meant to notice! that was your job! you were on mummy lookout, stupid!"

"eilidh macdonald! don't be so rude to your brother!" you say sternly, at the same time keir buries his head in your neck, and ross turns to your five year old and just raises his eyebrows. it's quite impressive how quickly he can shut anyone up with that look - even you aren't immune, and that's saying something.

your eldest looks at her dad, then you, then at keir and his quivering lip, then at the floor. "sorry. please don't cry, keir, i didn't really mean it."

too late. you can feel both hot tears hitting off your bare neck and your son's shoulders rising and falling as he sniffles. ross nudges eilidh forward, and you don't miss the way he steps to the side so the sink is blocked from your line of vision; she tentatively puts a hand on her brother's arm and speaks. "really didn't mean what i said, keir, i'm really really sorry. please can we be friends again?"

keir turns to look at her with an expression of complete and utter betrayal. "you promise you didn't mean it?"

eilidh nods sincerely.

"'kay," keir sniffles. "but i get to tell mum the secret."

"deal."

"tell mum what secret?" you question, eyes flicking to meet your husband's. "has it got something to do with the suddenly very tidy house, and the dinner you're currently making? which, off topic, smells incredible. but yes. i would like to know what's going on."

"oh, you noticed the living room. nice," ross says, his face indicating the opposite.

"ross, babe, why are you freaking out?"

"i'm not! well - ok, fine," your husband sighs. "kids, you need to take over. it's better if it comes from you. you're cuter."

"aha! you are trying to butter me up," you point at ross, who just shrugs, and then look at keir. "ok, baby, tell me the secret."

"know how i said we went to the park and me and dad played football and i won and eilidh did cartwheels?"

you bite back a laugh. god, your little boy really is just so adorable. "yeah…"

"and when we were walking back home there was a cat."

he stops there. you wait for a beat and then talk. "ok…?"

ross interjects, hands on eilidh's shoulders to stop her from jumping in. "and what did the cat do, mate?"

keir has to think for a second; he grins when the penny drops. "oh! it followed us home."

the penny is also beginning its descent to the ground for you, now. "a cat followed you home…"

"...and now it's in the sink," keir finishes the sentence for you.

for fuck's sake.

"ross, can i talk to you in the hall for a second?" with great effort, you keep your voice steady, despite the fact you're screaming on the inside.

your husband sees that, though, of course he does. gulping almost imperceptibly, he nods. "kids, keep an eye on our guest, yeah? hands off, though. and no touching the cooker either."

"ok, dad," eilidh kindly runs to get her brother's stepstool and put it next to her own. "keir, come and see!"

you put your son down, and he runs to join his sister. she wraps her arm around his shoulders, and you allow yourself a second of smiling at how cute they are before you pull ross through the doorway and let your anger take over.

as soon as he closes the door behind him, you let rip. "you let our children bring an alley cat into my house?! just picked up a random creature off the street and brought it in? what if it's feral? or it has fleas? the last thing we need right now is it scratching someone's eye out. or an infestation, my god. wait, what if it's already got a home, and you've just stolen someone's pet? jesus christ, we could be criminals! i can't believe this. i need to sit down."

"love…" ross begins, tugging you into him in lieu of you sliding down the wall onto the parquet floor. something about the familiarity of his arms and aftershave enveloping you makes you teary, and he patiently rubs your back.

"what are we going to tell the kids?" you sniffle into ross's chest, not unlike the way your son was sniffling into your neck a moment ago. "when it turns out we can't keep it because it needs to be sheltered or it already lives somewhere else? they'll be distraught, babe! i can't do that to our babies."

ross unwraps his arms from your waist. your lips start to tremble as soon as he lets go, but you're appeased when he cups your face in his big hands instead. "listen to me, my love. please," he says firmly, but not unkindly. "d'you really think i'm daft enough to let our kids bring home a cat that i thought would ever hurt them, or you, or me?"

"no, but-"

"and don't you think i've checked with the neighbours to see if anyone's missing a cat? because i have. even spoke to scary margaret."

you giggle. "is she as terrifying up close?"

"worse. don't wanna talk about it," ross smiles, and you get the sense that everything will be alright. "popped into the vet on the corner to get our new friend checked, too. no microchip, no fleas - and i gave it a bath, too, just in case, did the fairy liquid trick and everything…"

"how the fuck did you know about that trick?"

ross sighs. "tiktok, but, love, it's really alright," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. "it's just… a random nice cat, who really likes our kids."

"you're sure?" you ask, still giggling sporadically at the way he defeatedly admitted to watching cat care tiktoks.

"positive."

"alright," another thought crosses your mind; you squint suspiciously at ross. "and what about the tidying, and the dinner? were you genuinely trying to butter me up?"

ross's cheeks go pink. it's adorable. "a little bit…"

"i knew it!"

"...but we also thought that it would be nice for the cat to see its new home in the best circumstances."

you loop your arms around the back of your husband's neck, grinning. "you're so sure i'll approve of this new addition to the household?"

"once the two of you finally meet, yeah," ross pecks your lips. "come on, love. before the dinner gets burnt and the kids start crying again."

shaking your head as you huff out a laugh, you take ross's hand and lead him back into the kitchen. he immediately heads towards the cooker, while you lean against the doorframe for a moment to watch eilidh and keir watch their new friend, still obscured from your line of sight. in spite of your inhibitions towards the whole situation, your babies' joy is undeniable, and you feel a proper fuzzy sense of love looking at them.

keir looks over his shoulder, beaming; dear god, he really is just ross's mini-me. "mummy, come and meet him!"

"him?" you raise your eyebrows as you pad over slowly. "you know he's a him?"

"we saw when we were washing him," eilidh doesn't look up from the sink, too fixated on her new furry friend. "well, me and keir didn't. but dad says he's a boy."

you look briefly over at ross, who nods in confirmation, before patting your daughter's head. "well, i guess we're outnumbered, bean. you cool with that?"

eilidh nods. "he's so cute i don't care. look, mum!"

you do as requested, and your jaw drops. lying half-wrapped in a soft old baby towel you had no idea you still had, sat in the belfast sink, is the cutest little kitten you think you've ever seen; almost pure black, with a tiny little white patch of fur on the top of its head and the biggest green eyes you know you've ever seen on a cat. it looks fairly healthy, if slightly on the thinner side, and content to be in the warmth of your kitchen and be gawked at by your kids.

experimentally, you rest your hand just so on the rim of the sink, so your fingers almost dangle down; the cat stretches and stands, then wanders over to you and gently nuzzles into the digits. he purrs as he does, and any and all reservations you had about keeping him dissipate completely.

"hi, darling," you coo, gently picking the cat up and cradling him. he lets you do so with absolutely no resistance, purring the whole time as you scratch at his stomach. "oh, you're just the loveliest, aren't you? would you like to stay here with us? yeah? we would like that too - wouldn't we, kids?"

eilidh and keir answer in hushed tones, taking it in turns to carefully pet their new friend. ross wanders over, smiling, and kisses your head. "guess we'll need to name him now, yeah?"

you nod. "what do you think, kids?"

"salem," eilidh answers immediately.

ross squints. "have you been watching sabrina the teenage witch?"

"yeah."

"i mean, great show, but where, baby?" you ask.

"at lyla's."

"oh, ok," ross nods, then leans down to whisper in your ear. "how upset d'you reckon matty'll be when i tell him he's been replaced as eilidh's favourite?"

"oof," you wince. "heartbroken. anyway," you shift your attention back to the kids. "what's your choice, keir?"

your youngest ponders for a moment, looking intently at the cat. "he kinda looks like toothless. maybe that?"

ross pouts, like the cuteness is too much for him. "he does look like toothless the dragon! that's better than my choice, keir - i was going to say guinness, because of his head."

you scoff - typical ross - while eilidh's brow furrows. "i don't get it."

"and that's why we shouldn't call him that," you say, stroking the cat's little head. "we can have a think during dinner and decide later. i'll hang onto him; i think i need to get to know him better before i make any name choices."

ross smirks. "alright, love."

true to your word, the cat genuinely does not leave you the whole night, except to take food and water breaks - you continue to hold him while ross dishes up the pasta he made, he naps as you eat dinner, and he curls up contentedly on your lap as you watch tv with a cuppa later in the evening.

and yet… you still can't think of a name for him. the process of coming up with one becomes so tortuous that you have to text the friend you saw earlier in the day:

you: hi babe, hope you're having a good night! would either you or matty be able to drop off that baby-name book i loaned you tomorrow? i unexpectedly need it back lol x

bff: WHAT

bff: of course i'll drop it off but OMFG ARE YOU PREGNANT AGAIN

you: omg haha no

you: sorry i kinda implied that didn't i x

another text interrupts your convo:

shortarse: fucksake can you not stress us out like that please

shortarse: she genuinely got so excited about the thought of another baby macdonald that i honestly thought she was going to go into labour

shortarse: tf do you need the book for then

you: came home to find ross and the kids had brought home a cat lol

shortarse: fuck off

shortarse: send pics

shortarse: wait no ew that sounds weird nvm

shortarse: can we come over and meet it lol

you: drop the book off tomorrow and i'll consider it

you: also keir wants to buy the baby a football kit lol can we? nufc obv

shortarse: sound

shortarse: aww i love that kid

shortarse: of course he can get a kit

shortarse: also my girl says you should have another baby and it can be best friends with our baby lol

shortarse: i mean it's not like our kids won't be best friends anyway

shortarse: but you get the point

shortarse: i think it would be cute tbh

shortarse: anyway i'm off to go and calm her down before our son makes his debut appearance on the carpet

shortarse: byeeeeeeee we love you all we'll see you tomorrow

you: we love you too!

chuckling, you click your phone off and throw it to the side of the couch. ross lifts his head from your chest as you do. "what are you giggling at, love?"

"i just asked if someone from the healy household could drop the baby-name book off, because i genuinely have no idea what to name our new friend…"

"...and they thought we were having another baby?" ross smiles, kissing your cheek.

"there was so much excitement that the new baby almost made an appearance, apparently," you smile as ross throws his head back laughing. "but i explained that you and the kids had been adopted by a cat…"

"...and matty insisted on dropping the book off tomorrow so he could meet it?"

"god, you're good at this game. he did, after asking me to, and i quote, send pics. of the cat, obv," you shake your head. "i was spared a pussy pics joke, thankfully."

ross snorts. "well, he has got baby brain."

"i'll say. he and the missus tried to convince me that us having a third kid would be cute."

your husband smiles, softly caressing the sleeping cat and trailing his hand up your arm. "well, i wouldn't be opposed to it."

"really?" you gently turn his head so he's looking at you - there's not a shred of insincerity in those lovely eyes of his. "you're not just saying that to further fulfil your dream of shagging a milf?"

"no, love," ross giggles, and your heart skips a beat. "i'm just saying, i wouldn't mind having another baby with you. but i think we should probably at least name the fluffy one on your lap first."

"yeah. and sort out litter trays and all that," you scratch the cat between the ears, and savour the purring that he emits. it's a perfect little domestic tableau you've got going on, what with you snuggled into ross with the cat asleep on your lap, and eilidh and keir sat on the floor against ross's legs, happily watching bluey; a baby would slot in perfectly. "i'm up for it too, though. i love our family. i love you. and i think we should at least consider a third kid."

"i love you too," ross leans in to kiss you sweetly. "fourth, though."

"hmm?"

"the cat. our third kid. a baby would be the fourth."

you smile. "i suppose you're right. ok, let's give our third kid some time to settle in and get used to the house - which, by the way, i expect to be this tidy all the time from now on - and then we'll discuss a fourth. sound good?"

ross kisses you again. "sounds great."

#mads muses #mads does writing #dad!ross #promptober75 #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

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aita-blorbos · 8 days ago

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Hi 👋 🚨plz don’t scroll 🚨

Iam writing to you, appealing to our shared humanity, to help me to share and reblog my story and my family’s fundraising campaign. 🙏

Iam Samer Abu Ras, my wife Shorouq, and our three children, including a baby 👶🏻 who is not yet two years old.

We are enduring unimaginable suffering due to the ongoing war, constantly moving from place to place in search of safety. We live in harsh conditions within tents, having lost our home and everything we owned. Our eldest son, Qusay, has had heart problems 💔since birth and urgently needs medical 💊follow-up after undergoing several surgeries. I humbly request a donation of 50 kronor more if you can my friend and if u can’t just support us enough for me.🌹 to help us travel to a safe place where we can continue Qusay’s treatment and provide a better life for our children.

In conclusion, my family and I thank you 🌺from the bottom of our hearts for accepting our message. ❤️🌹❤️

Note: My friend, if you wish to donate, note that the currency used in the fundraising campaign is the Swedish krona. Every 50 kronor is equivalent to 5 $dollars, 100 kronor is equivalent to 10 $dollars, and so on.

My friends, my appeals may seem repetitive to you, and I apologize if my requests cause any inconvenience. However, I need your continuous support. Thank you for your understanding.🙏🌹❤️

So sorry that we've taken so long to get to this ask! Here is the fundraiser link:

Shorouq has only raised €530/€30,000! The ask mentions kroner, but in the time since sending the message, the campaign switched over to Euros. I donated €10, can anyone match?

#gaza #palestine #free palestine

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radioroxx · 3 months ago

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*slides you $500 in monopoly money* spare deets about the isafrin kids? i love them soooooooo much and would love love love to know even more!!!

like!! how did they get wished into existence? were they just There one day as small kids, or did they come as babies? did aurore come first and then eile? and isafrin!!! they look different!!?!!?! love love love love postcanon designs and would love to hear your thoughts on them (and! their bonding earrings??)

I WROTE THIS OUT AND REALIZED HOW STUPID LONG IT IS SO. ITS GOING UNDER A CUT. WOWZERS

Ok first- WISH BABIES!!!

uh. uhm. uh

ahah. oops!!

though we did get to discussing a few options after getting this ask (more like. i. asked them. and they provided. im not the thinker in this group. hehe!)

(@chromatasia )

for context on this one- i believe a while ago we also talked about wishing involving sacrificing? the idea of givinf up a piece of yourself (sometimes physically, like hair) to help power a wish! or link yourself to it?

a second option (three whole screenshots…)

(@unregisteredskybox )

carve your own baby!! yay!

general idea for our fankids though is that yes, they were created super young. and as babies. so aurore wouldve been crafted a few years before eilé :)

so yea ur two options <3 pick i guess lol. i dont have a solid idea there.

the second half of your questions- yes!! isafrin! theyre older and different!! wahoo!

the older isafrin designs were moreso. i wanted to have a little fun and made them. lawl. but now i get an excuse to share anyway :) so here!!

numbered the details to make it a lil easier. also dont mind these r quick scribbles,,

1- general outfits and stuff. siffrins i wanted to keep mostly similar to how i usually draw them. sleeveless top, horrible and unnecessary amount of belts,, knowing that hes maybe not as eager to change as some others might be. they are comfortable in their style and thats what matters. for isabeau i wanted to keep a familiar vibe, but still change it up. i think he would still wear clothes that are flowy-er etc etc, buuut yeayeayea. not an outfits guy really so jfkf theyre pretty simple.

2- themb!! they look different! siffrins hair is longer obv obv, and no lightless dye anymore. they tie it back usually, but he still likes it long. also some facial hair. important to me. (you may also notice lack of eyepatch,, personal hc that siffrin gets more comfortable without it after making up with bonnie some more. that he maybe depending on it a lot because he thought it would make them uncomfortable, which theyyy dont have to worry about. anymore! so less eyepatch. sometimes still though). isa on the other hand looks mooostly the same! except. ofc. bigger beard. you guys should know i love my beards by now. lawl. other than that mostly the same,, physical pain in me trying to think of a different hairstyle for him… maybe in the future but for now he gets This.

3- new cloak-thing for sif! his regular cloak is probably much more well suited for the travelling lifestyle, much less the domestic stay-at-home lifestyle, soo they changed it up! (and totally not an excuse for isabeau to try out craft stitching nooo definitely not as practice for the future whaat who said that.) they will still wear the old cloak occasionally, buuut not as often as they used to.

4- finally! bonding earrings!!! yes! the designs themselves are pretty simple. squares and change symbols for the design sif made for isa, and a star with bits that go ding-ding that isa made for sif. more importantly, siffrin carved the earrings himself! it is. hard. to do that. a design that is so small. there were many failed attempts and scraped ideas but they got it done! and isa loves them very much. for isas design, the main star part is glass, and the dangling bits are carved gems (picture isabeau, panicking because this is siffrin hes making these for so it needs to be perfect. and he gets odile to help him, because despite all the teasing she is ofc very fond, and helps him out with that aspect of the design.)

ok thats all - bye bye bye

#asks #isat #in stars and time #isat siffrin #isat isabeau #WOW…#THATS SO MUCH MB #TY FOR THE ASK THO AHDJJF #im not. checking for spelling. oh well #isafrin fankids

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amonrawya · 1 month ago

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3rd of October: Durin's Day / An Treasamh Latha dhen Dàmhair: Là Dhurin

English Translation:

In the early years after the dragon came, the Dwarves of Erebor set their eyes on survival. Much was lost to them during this time, cultural and religious customs they failed to sustain in their wanderings.

As soon as they had homes once again, mines to work in and forges to fire, Thorin looked to these things for the final missing piece in their lives. His nephews, growing fast, had never experienced Durin's Day in any way other than that of the Blue Mountains.

He heard Erebor in their speech, saw it in the style of their clothes, and even in the weapons they favoured, but so much of his nephews' cultural references lay elsewhere. He wished for them to understand Durin's Day through the eyes of their own culture.

Thus, ten years since Erebor had seen its last Durin's Day, her people put on a feast in Thorin's Halls the like of which was rarely seen. They worked tirelessly to have everything right: musicians woke up old ballads, bakers brought back old delicacies, and the elders gathered to pass their folktales onto the new generations. The exiles.

Another wound was healed that night, another wrong put right. Thorin watched over the festivities as Fili and Kili learnt how to sing a traditional Erebor hymn and thought of his own childhood.

Finally, everyone came together on the stone slopes before the gates of their halls to watch the last vestiges of the sunset fade from the sky behind them and the autumn moon rise in the eastern horizon. For a precious few minutes, both lights lingered together, before the sun was overcome at last.

Thorin stood with his arm around Dis and the boys by their legs, wide-eyed with their first Durin's Day beads braided carefully in their hair. They were't likely to sleep tonight.

The towering stature of the Misty Mountains blocked it from view, but Thorin knew - could see - beyond their white peaks lay Erebor, bathed in the silver light of Durin's moon.

Maybe he started it, or perhaps they all did so at the same time, but slowly and quietly, their low Dwarven voices rose into the sky with a song of home-sickness on their lips. A mourning song.

Oh, far over the Misty Mountains cold...

Scottish Gaelic Translation:

Anns na bliadhnaichean a chaidh seachad as dèidh don nathair-sgiathach tighinn, thoirt na Troichean Erebor an sùilean air mairsinneach. Chaill iad tòrr tron àm seo, nòsan cultarach is creideamh nach do chùm iad beò anns am fuadan aca.

Cho luath ‘s a bha dachaighean aca a-rithist, mèinnean a bhith ag obair anns agus ceàrdaichean a chuir teinne anns, chaidh Thòrin don rudan seo a’ sireach am pìos mu dheireadh air fhàgail bho am beathannan sa Bheinn Ònaranach. A’ fàs cho àrd a-nist, cha robh na mic a pheathar eòlach idir air an dòigh dhen Là Dhurin ach an dòigh na Beanntan Ghorm.

Chuala e Erebor san dòigh-bhruidhinn aca, san stoidhle aodach, eadhon san arm a bha an dithis measail air. Ach leis na rudan beaga, chunnaic e gun robh sin a’ tighinn bho àitichean eile. Bha e airson ‘s gum biodh iad a’ tuigsinn Là Dhurin tron shùilean an cultar aca fhèin.

Air an adhbhar sin, deich bliadhna seach gun do chunnaic Erebor an Là Dhurin mu dheireadh, chuir an t-sluaigh aice seòin air dòigh nach fhaca iad gu tric anns na Tallachan Thòrin. Dh’obraich iad gu cruaidh airson a h-uile rud a bhith ceart: dh’èirich ceòladairean seann balantan, rinn bèicearan seann biadh fìnealta, agus chruinneach na daoine aosmhor ri chèile airson am beul-aithris aca a thoirt don ghinealaichean ùra. Na fògraich.

Shlànaich gort eile an oidhche sin, rud eile a chuir ceart. Choimhead Thòrin air an subhachas mar a dh’ionnsaich Fìli is Kìli laoidh traidiseanta Erebor a sheinn agus smaointeach e air na làithean anns an robh e fhèin beag.

Mu dheireadh thall, thàinig a h-uile duine ri chèile a-mach air na slèibhtean mu bheul an geata nan tallachan. Choimhead iad air dol fodha na grèine san speur air an cùlaibh, an solas a’ dol às beag air bheag. Agus gealach an foghair a’ tighinn suas san fàire Ear. Airson beagan mionaidean prìseil, dh’fhuirich an dà sholas anns an speur ri chèile mus do dh’fhalbh a’ ghrian.

Sheas Thòrin le a gàirdean timcheall a phiuthar, Dìs, agus na bhalaich ri taobh nan casan. Bha na sùilean drileach aca a’ coimhead mòr, agus bha a’ chiad grìogagan Là Dhurin a bh’ aca air pleatach anns am falt. Cha bhiodh e comasach gun cadail iad a-nochd.

Cha b’ urrainn dha a’ faicinn tro na Beanntan Àird a’ Cheò, ach bha fios aige gun robh Erebor air a seasamh dìreach thar air na mullaichean gheala, lannrach anns an t-solas ghealach Dhurin.

Is docha gun do thoiseach esan e, no ‘s docha gun do rinn iad uile e aig an aon am, ach gu slaodach agus gu samhach, chaidh na guthan ìosal troiche dhan speur le òran chianalais air an bilean.

Ò thar na Beanntan Àird fhuar a’ Cheò...

#writing #short ficlet #dwarrowtober2024 #dwarrowtober #dwarves #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit thorin #durin's day #middle earth #tolkien #writblr #scottish gaelic #fili and kili #dis durin

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outro-jo · 2 years ago

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NCT 127 and Weddings

pairings: nct 127 x reader

type: scenarios

summary: little scenarios of meeting/taking the 127 members at/to a wedding

warnings: drinking, kinda angst with haechan, i use stage and real names with haechan and stage name with jaehyun, johnny’s is too fuckin long 😩, taeil’s is too fuckin short 😭, no editing omg, i think that’s it

a/n: i tried to keep everything as gender neutral as possible and just inclusive in general. please read info before requesting

UPDATE: T*eil has been removed

masterlist | info

—————————

Taeyong

•planner x groomsman

this wasn’t happening. the sudden sound of the rip made your heart stop. the screams followed and you tried to calm everyone down. as the wedding planner, it was your job to make sure everything went smoothly, or make everyone think it was because it truth this wedding had been anything but smooth. the wrong venue was booked and you found out at the rehearsal. the florist went on vacation and the apprentice messed up the flowers. the priest showed up at the wrong venue, and now… disaster. but you fixed every other problem so this shouldn’t be any different, right? you stepped out of the bridal suite to get some air and come up with a plan when all of a sudden he walked up. you remembered his face from the dress rehearsal and dinner but for the life of you, you couldn’t remember his name. good friend of the groom and therefor a groomsman. he saw your panicked expression you failed to hide and came over. “what’s wrong is *bride’s name* ok?” he asked sweetly, attending to your side. “kind of… the dress ripped and i’m not quite sure what to do.” you admitted. you didn’t mean to. you wanted to appear in control but it all just kind of spilled out. maybe he just had one of those faces you could confide in, who knows, but his face seemed to light up. “hold on! give me two minutes!” he rushed off and returned with a girl. “this is *name*, she used to be a stylist at my company. she can help.” you brought her in and in no time she had the dress fixed and ready for the bride to walk down the aisle. the young groomsman must have been the magic you needed because the rest of the wedding went off without a hitch. later you found yourself at the reception with the guests all having the best time. the bride had already thanked you for everything to make their wedding perfect and you were just about to snag some leftovers from catering and head home when you saw him. “hi,” you walked over to him. he was at the edge of the dance floor, dancing with some of the other groomsmen. “hey!” “i just wanted to thank you for helping me earlier. i don’t know what i would have done without you!” you told him. “don’t worry about it! dance with me and we’re even!” he didn’t even give you a chance to respond before pulling you into the flow of the dance floor with the widest, most endearing smile on his face.

Johnny

•bridal party x groomsman

you weren’t quite sure how you ended up in the bridal party. sure, it was your cousin but you two weren’t exactly close and you didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the people she had chosen, but it’s her day and not yours, you decided. you did your best not to feel awkward at the events leading up to the wedding. most of the bridesmaids where snobby kinda like your cousin but you tried not to pay them too much attention. you usually found yourself at the edge of the room, sipping on something and observing the room. the biggest observation you found was this loud, tall groomsman that always seemed to be the one garnering the attention amongst the groomsmen. he was kinda like the life of the party and everyone either wanted to be him or with him. he kinda just got on your nerves.

unfortunately at the dress rehearsal, the wedding coordinator paired you with him to walk down the aisle. not only that, at the reception you’d have to dance with him for the first dance. “ok, Johnny and Y/n!” the coordinator called out and you felt yourself stiffen. he came and took a seat next to you. he leaned in and said, “i hate these sort of things. so formal.” his nose scrunched up. “you seem to be having a good time so far,” you countered. “i mean, it’s even better now.” he smirked at you. was he making fun of you? this had to be a joke. while your mind reeled with being “flirted with”, everyone else fell silent and listened to what the needed to do for the entrance. the main rehearsal went well, it was just walking which you can be fairly good at, but the dancing part was next and that made you nervous. everyone was paired up in a circle with their partners and facing each other. “doesn’t matter if you’re a good dancer or not” johnny loosened up his shoulders and rolled his neck. “i’m a good dancer, i got you.” he followed up with a wink. “great.” you deadpanned before finally taking your hold and imitating the steps. you hated that he was right. he was a good dancer, not only that he helped you keep up in ways you wouldn’t have if you had a different partner.

after the rehearsal you didn’t even bother going to the dinner and partying after. you made up some excuse about a migraine and went back to your hotel room to hide. at around 11 there was a knock at your door and you were shocked to find johnny on the other side. “hey! i don’t mean to bother you but *bride’s name* said you had a migraine. my mom used to have those so i got you a bunch of stuff to help.” he handed you the full convenience store bag. “oh… thanks.” you were stunned and barely could get a word out. “yeah, no worries. gotta make sure my partner is doin ok. i’ll let you rest though. see you tomorrow.” he took off and you shut the door still speechless and staring at the bag. for most of the night you questioned why he would be so nice to you. the next morning before the ceremony was so busy, you hardly thought about johnny, that was until the bridal party met up with the groomsmen. “hey! are you feeling any better?” he asked as he came over. “um, yeah! i’m good.” you mumbled. “well, you look great! i think i have the best looking date today!” he smiled. date? what? you didn’t have a lot of time to process what he said because the wedding coordinator was pushing all the pairs together and preparing them to walk down the aisle.

the entire ceremony you just focused on the wedding, or tried to. johnny kept smiling and winking at you and it took everything in you to keep a pleasant expression on your face. just before the reception, while the photographer was getting some shots of the happy couple, johnny pulled you aside to practice before the big dance number. he held you so close and he smelled so good. you felt the heat burning in your cheeks. “i need to get some air real quick.” you blurted out and rushed off. when the bride and groom got to the reception, you shuffled back in with everyone else. the dj finally announced the first dance and you made your way back to johnny. “we got this” he reassured you before the music started. he helped you though the entire dance and you finished with the biggest smile on your face. johnny pulled you along with him to the bar once the bride and groom continued with their dances. “you did great!” he told you. “yeah, thanks to you!” “no, no, that was all you, babe.” he shook his head before ordering you two some drinks. for the rest of the night johnny did everything he could to keep you by his side and having a good time. even taking you up to his room after the party was over.

Yuta

•old family friend

it was almost embarrassing. your grown age and you couldn’t even find a date to a wedding. you sat in the backseat of your parents car pretty much sulking all the way to the venue worrying about all the relatives and old family friends that would be there to judge you for not bringing someone and being single. walking up to the building, you were staring to second guess coming at all when your parents called out some old familiar names and waved as they rushed over to them. “my goodness! how long has it been?” your mom asked. “too long!” mrs. nakamoto agreed. “oh, your remember y/n, right?” “gosh, i remember you in diapers! how you’ve grown! so beautiful! yuta, aren’t they beautiful?” she put her hand on his back and he turned around. damn, that’s little yuta? you thought to yourself. he smiled and the whole world seemed brighter. “hey! y/n, right?” he leaned in and hugged you. “yeah! good to see you again, Yuta!” you barely got out because the gorgeous smell of his cologne nearly had you on the ground. when you went the let go, Yuta held you tight to him still. “listen, i couldn’t get a date. if you didn’t bring anyone, could you hang out with me? i can’t stand all the questions.” he whispered in your ear. you pulled back to look at him nodding frantically, “yeah, sure.” “cool,” he breathed in relief. his hand slid down your side as he walked you inside.

Doyoung

•both guests

while you were incredibly happy for *groom/bride/etc* the last thing you wanted to do after your nightmarish trek to this destination wedding was spend hours on the dance floor—it wasn’t really your thing anyways. while everyone else was partying, you noticed this guy from across the room nursing a cocktail and poking at the salmon, equally not interested in the party. unfortunately, one of the other guests took it upon themself to pull you into the conga line forming despite your protests. then as you made your way around, stuck in the current, you noticed someone else was pulled in front of you. they got him too. he was more expressive about his distaste but you knew that you couldn’t stay in this absolute hell for much longer. you took a chance and ripped from the undertow, grabbing the guy and taking him with you, conveniently landing next to the bar. “thank you!” he seemed genuine. “no worries,” you turned to the bartender. “can i get a bottle of champagne and two glasses, please?” thankfully the bartender knew you were family and the bride’s mother had already yelled at him once that night so he was feeling especially bitter. “thanks!” you grabbed the glasses, the bottle, and your new friends hand and headed for the kitchen. the caterer was an old family friend, you’ve known her since childhood. “Emma! can i get a big slab of cake, pretty please!” you gave her your best pleading eyes. Emma rolled hers and cut off a big piece. “one fork?” she asked. “two! you can give it to my friend here.” you nodded back to him, still grasping his hand. the guy looked between you both, eyes wide but he still took the plate. “have fun but go easy on him.” she teased you. your eyes rolled as you pulled him out of the kitchen and over to the emergency stairs. “wait, where are we going??” he asked. “you’ll see!” you kept leading you both to the rooftop. the sun was just setting and you could see a view of the ocean from where you were. you let go of his hand and ran to the ledge to perch yourself. the cork popped and the bubbles cascaded over the opening before you filled the two glasses. “i figured this was better than the party.” you told him. “you’re right.” he agreed before taking a place next to you. “i’m doyoung.” he said as he took a glass. “y/n” your glasses clinked.

Jaehyun

•best friend + date

jaehyun loved weddings so it was a no brainer when you needed to bring someone and your recent situationship turned out to be a bust (as they usually do). you knew he would say yes. he was the most reliable person you knew and the 5 years of friendship wasn’t for nothing. as expected, he was incredible. he complimented your outfit, brought extra tissues for when you undoubtedly cried during the vows, danced with you as much as you wanted at the reception, he even gave you his piece of cake. it was nearly a magical evening. the happy couple was leaving the venue illuminated by sparklers and when the car door closed behind them, you immediately turned to jaehyun to continue shenanigans. he was right with you you pretend the sparklers were lightsabers and began a duel complete with mouth sound effects. the two of you were off away from the group in the fading glow of the fireworks, laughing and completely in your own little world when it hit you. “oh my god, i love you.” it was not just a thought, to your horror, you said it out loud. the panic was short lived then the shock on jaehyun’s face faded and he said, “finally.” the sparklers had fizzles out and jaehyun let the stick drop before leaning forward, his hand resting on your cheek as he kissed your lips. the fireworks for the newly married couple began sparking, a mistake made by the wedding coordinator as they were supposed to go off when they were leaving but perfect timing for you. they imitated the ones going off in your stomach as jaehyun kissed you. he pulled away first, stroking your cheek. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

Jungwoo

•assigned to the seat next to you

in all honesty, you didn’t want to be there but it was free food and you didn’t want to be rude to your boss on their happy day. the ceremony was nice but the open bar was even nicer. you grabbed the special event cocktail and made your way to your assigned seat. you checked a few tables until you finally found your name card. none of your other table mates had arrived yet but you took your seat and sipped on your drink. you took an opportunity to look at some of the cards next to you to see who you’d be making small talk with for the evening. you didn’t recognize either names but the one to your right, “jungwoo”, why did that sound so familiar? you decided it was nothing as some of the others at your table took theirs seats with a nod or wave. finally, the seat to your right was occupied. he seemed around your age, maybe younger with the sweetest smile. “hi! i’m jungwoo.” he greeted you with a handshake. “i’m y/n. nice to meet you.” the two of you talked for a bit, getting to know each other before the newlyweds made their entrance. suddenly jungwoo got up from his seat and made his way to the stage, picking up the microphone. the dj announced it was time for the first dance and that jungwoo would be singing for them. it suddenly clicked. he was in that singing group your boss’s new spouse worked for. you’d heard them talk about it before but never really knew a lot about them. his voice was so soft and beautiful with a clear tone, it fit the ballad they had picked perfectly. jungwoo finished the song and bowed politely before coming back to his seat. “that was beautiful.”

Mark

•childhood friend reunited

you were happy to be home, happy to see your family again, and so happy to be seeing one of your long time friends getting married. it was your parents and theirs that stayed in touch more than the two of you but unfortunately that’s how life is sometimes, you just lose touch. nonetheless, you were still excited to be there and see everyone. after the beautiful ceremony you saw someone you really never expected to see again. “y/n?” the familiar voice questioned and you turned around. your heart stopped in your chest. it was him. he looked so beautiful in his suit, his hair curly and dark like it was when you were younger. it felt like no time had passed. “mark!” you exclaimed. he pulled you into a hug, “yo! i didn’t think i’d see you here but i’m so glad!” “i know. how are you? are you doing music?” you had so many things you wanted to ask him. “yeah, i moved to korea and i’m in this group. it’s so dope. i’m getting to live my dream, man.” his eyes sparkled as he spoke. “that’s amazing. i’m so proud of you!” “yeah, but what about you…” the conversation continued and things picked up just as they were before with your best friend finally back in your life again. it was exhilarating. the two of you spent the entire reception together, starting with mark swapping places with your grandma just so you two could sit together. you practically spent the entire night on the dance floor laughing with each other. you never wanted it to end. “look,” mark started as he swayed with you in a slow dance. “i’m really sorry we lost touch. i took an opportunity and i didn’t tell anyone—“ you cut him off with a wave of your hand, “don’t even worry about that! we’re here now.” “dude, i know and i’m so happy! it’s just…” he paused. “i don’t know if i can let you go now.” his confession hit like a ton of bricks. you’d always felt something for him, even all those years ago, but you never said anything because you were worried he never felt the same. you thought about him so much when he left. at one point you had assumed the worst when you didn’t hear from him. seeing him again just brought back all the old feelings and then some. to hear after all this time that your mark felt the same, you were practically floating. “please don’t let me go.”

Haechan

•ex

you shouldn’t have gone. when you first got then invitation, you and haechan both were excited that this might have been the first wedding you two would attend as a couple but you didn’t even get to make it that far in the relationship. it had ended and you cried for weeks but it was for the best… or that’s what you tried to tell yourself. but one of your friends was getting married and today was about them. besides, haechan probably wouldn’t show up anyways. you were so wrong. you sat down in your seat for the ceremony and not two minutes later you felt your best friend elbow you. “don’t look now but he’s here.” you knew exactly what they meant but you weren’t about to turn around and look. it would was only a matter of time before you faced him anyways. that moment came all too soon. you had just gotten drinks with your best friend at the bar when you turned and nearly knocked into him. you gasped, just catching sight of his face before shutting your eyes completely to get your bearings. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to scare you.” that all too familiar voice cut through your heart like a knife. to make things worse, he took your shoulders in his hands. “it’s fine, haechan.” you said coldly, not looking up at him again and broke from his grasp to head for your table. haechan wasn’t having it, he caught your free hand and pulled you back to him. “please, don’t walk away from me.” he pleaded with his puppy dog eyes. damn him. “hyuck… please don’t do this.” you whispered, tears forming in your eyes as your stomach turned. “not here.” “fine!” with a hold still on your hand he pulled you out into a hallway. “this isn’t better!” you told him with gritted teeth. “y/n, please let me explain.” he begged. “why should i? you broke up with me! i loved you and you let me go! remember?” “no, i do i promise i do. things were just complicated with work and i was worried about stuff with management but i got it all worked out now! i promise! i love you, too! i never stopped!” donghyuck explained. “maybe but what if things get complicated again. hyuck, i can’t do this again. i cried for weeks after you dumped me.” “oh, please don’t say it like that. i messed up and i swear it broke me too. i haven’t been the same, ask my hyungs! i can’t be without you. i promise! i won’t make this mistake again.” he was almost in tears himself pleading his case. you breathed out, letting your shoulders fall. “promise?” you raised you pinky up to him like you used to. haechan smiled and returned the gesture. “i promise you,” his forehead rested on yours. “i’m not leaving again.”

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mikeluciraphgabe · 2 years ago

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“Derek died” ok, fine, I can deal with that (lying but that’s just details)

What gets me is SCOTT and ALLISON ADOPTED Eil

There are SO many different options for that as well as problems😭

Stiles taking him in because he clearly had some type of involvement in Eli’s childhood/teen years. You don’t even have to ship Sterek to see this

Noah for the reason above but also because he was like a grandfather/uncle to Eli (that’s the vibe I got anyway)

PETER HIS FUCKING UNCLE WHO WAS RIGHT THERE AS WELL AS BEING ABLE TO RAISE A BORN WOLF??? Also, this man loves his family (even in a weird psychopathic way) and he would rip someone’s throat out for trying to take the last of it he has

Mason and Parish for fucks sake had more of a history with Eli than the two

ALISON JUST CAME BACK FROM THE DEAD??? Miss girl is not mentally stable to raise a child a teenager nonetheless considering she probably has a mindset of one still??

Hell, coach had more of a chance than these two

Derek didn’t want Eli to see being a werewolf as a curse, and that’s all Scott sees it as (for the most part)

Derek most definitely had a Will and DEFINITELY had a “in case I die and my son is still a minor he goes to ___” (this is obvious because of all the shit he went through.)

Cora is literally his aunt? Tell me she wouldn’t hope on a plane, get her nephew and his shit, and take him home with her. I dare you.

#literally what was the reason of giving Eli to them?#thats not just bad writing #but it doesn’t make ANY sense AT ALL???#I can let the bad … everything slide #but seriously??#how did that seem like a good idea to you??#teen wolf #teen wolf movie #peter hale #derek hale #eli hale #stiles stilinksi #alison argent #scott mccall #noah stilinski

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samerpal · 5 months ago

Text

"First, I would like to thank everyone who supported me.🙏🌹

This is my new platform, friends, after my old platform was deleted for reasons unknown to me.

I ask for your help in sharing my story again to keep hope alive for me and my family, friends.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.♥️

My family and I appreciate your cooperation and hope to reach the desired goal and save us.🙏

Attached are the verification links for the old account from the supporters.

Link vetted by @ibtisams

Link vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi

Link vetted by @sar-soor

My approved number by the families in need and endorsed by the supervisors is 196."

@90-ghost @ibtisams @nabulsi @aces-and-angels @sar-soor @sayruq @fairuzfan @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @northgazaupdates @northgazaupdates2

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive 🕊️🇵🇸🙏

I Samer Abu Ras, am reaching out to you with a heartfelt humanitarian appeal, after the ongoing war in Gaza has cast its dark shadow over my life and the lives of my family. Our lives were once filled with peace and stability before the onset of this catastrophe, but now, we find ourselves living in a situation described as nothing short of tragic.

My wife, Shurooq, our three children, and I are now homeless, without a source of income, and without hope for the future. My family and I have lost our businesses and our home due to the war, and we now have nothing left but the cold streets and troubled hearts.

My children are suffering greatly as a result of these horrific events. They have lost the security and stability they once enjoyed and are now facing new health and psychological challenges that threaten their lives. As a father and husband, I feel powerless in my ability to provide adequate protection and care for them.

My child, who is a year and a half old, is experiencing hardships far beyond his tender age. Since the war broke out, we had to flee our home and seek refuge in a tent in a displacement camp. My child lives in extremely difficult conditions, deprived of safety and stability. The tent does not provide adequate protection from harsh weather, and food and medicine are scarce. My child suffers from malnutrition and illness, lacking basic healthcare. He cannot play or grow in a healthy and suitable environment. My only dream is to see him grow up in a safe place full of opportunities

In the face of difficult circumstances, Samer Abu Ras and his family find themselves facing serious challenges in their daily lives. They reside in a modest tent lacking comfort and security, suffering from a shortage of clean water and food, and encountering difficulties in accessing necessary healthcare. Despite these challenges, they continue to express hope and resilience in confronting adversity, holding onto hope for a better tomorrow and a return to a more stable and secure life.

I appeal to you today, dear friends, to extend to me a helping hand in escaping this hell. Regardless of the size of the donation, every drop of generosity will contribute to alleviating our suffering and rebuilding our lives anew.

We need your help to secure the funds necessary to travel away from these destructive wars and seek a safe and stable environment where we can build a better future for our children

Let us stand together in these difficult times and let hope triumph over despair by providing support and assistance to those in dire need. Let us be part of the solution and build a better future for ourselves and future generations.

Thank you for listening and for the potential generosity of your giving, and for your generous donations that will change the lives of my family for the better.

With sincere gratitude and appreciation

‏Samer Abu Ras and family.

@heba-20 @soon-palestine @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @nabulsi @sayruq @communistchilchuck @palipunk @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @faggotfungus @ghost-and-a-half @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @three-croissants @interfacefox @appsa @akajustmerry @feluka @flower-tea-fairies @90-ghost @victoriawhimsey @ficsforgaza @aria-ashryver @mangocheesecakes @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @palestinegenocide @ghost-and-a-half @bibyebae @heritageposts @norrriey 🍉🌹🍉✍️

🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉

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ceo-draiochta · 1 year ago

Note

Hey there, this might be silly question, I have been trying to find a path/belief system that works for me. And I was wondering what is Gaelic polytheisms main worldviews? How are the Tautha de danann or other gods treated? Are they seen as representations of something? How important is praying to them? How does Gaelic polytheism interact with the divine?

Thank you!

Hello! Sorry just saw this now. Sorry for any wait. Thank you so much for your question, I will try and answer as best as I can. While a lot of this does apply to Scottish and Manx polytheism as well, I will be focusing on Irish polytheism as that is what I practice. Please note that everything I say is inherently going to be coloured by my experience and practice and that many people practice in ways completely different to this.

Uncertainty

Ok first things first, Gaelic polytheism is a modern attempt to reconstruct the religion that was replaced with Christianity in the Gaelic regions, this is a religion that for all intents and purposes died off, aspects of these belief systems are however present in the writings of christian monks collectively known as Irish Mythology. This of course means that many stories have inserted christian elements.

This basically means that there is no one right way to do things, and no exact step by steps like you'd find in other religions. Its more of a hot and cold thing. As such the answers to most of your questions cannot be exact "this is what all Gaelic polytheists do and don't", There is however answers that seem more likely and more accepted.

Worldviews

Important to note that there is no creation myth known. Generally beliefs include a certain level of animism, honouring spirits, honouring ancestors, immortality of/renewal of the soul, and the belief in the Otherworld (an t-alltar/an saol eile).

Worship

Honouring of spirits, ancestors and gods is a fairly combined procedure, the exact delineation between Aos Sí (fairies) and gods is blurred. There is also evidence to suggest that the gods Tuatha dé may have been viewed as divine ancestors so quite mixed up. (UPG alert) I would generally consider the Tuatha Dé the most powerful, the most prolific of the Aos Sí rather than something entirely different. (UPG end) Generally offerings are made to known/named gods and the Aos Sí collectively. Offerings to gods is usually something connected to their known attributes, such as a poem for one connected to poetry or alcohol etc. Aos Sí usually get some form of food, traditionally butter and milk. Historically worship would have been done at certain locations, usually a liminal space often involving water. This includes Holy wells, bogs but also megalithic structures and focal points in the landscape such as hills. However the modern pagan generally just has a little corner as an altar.

Death

It seems likely that after death it was believed that the soul crosses into the otherworld and into a place known as Tech Duinn, the home of the first milesean (basically ancestor to irish people) to step foot on the island. Transmigration of the soul (also known as reincarnation) is heavily implied to be a belief amongst pre christian irish people and so it is generally believed that the soul will transmigrate after an indetermined time in Tech Duinn.

Otherworld (an t-alltar/an saol eile)

The otherworld is a world either parallel or below ours (think parallel dimension ig?) where the othercrowd live, a lot of different attributes have been given to the Otherworld but generally time works differently and it is overall abundant. It can connects to ours at certain times of the year and at certain locations. There are those who believe you can visit there through out of body experiences though this is a more recent belief.

Treatment of the Gods and interaction

You will find many different attitudes to gods throughout pagan communities, some of which are uh bad ideas. Generally the attitude taken towards gods is respectful, like how you would talk to your landlord. Generally worship is done in a respectful manner.

Some people believe themselves to communicate with gods through dreams, meditation and various forms of divination. This can change how you interact, if they want to be more casual be more casual, if they like the respect be respectful. That being said communicating to gods like this is not a necessity of paganism only worship. You can just offer gifts and prayers and never speak to them ever if you want. I would say praying is reasonably important, at least try to do the 4 festivals at least. You really can set your own rules. One thing I will say is don't make empty promises, like don't say "I will definitely pray everyday for 2 months" and then don't. Just do what your able and be honest about it.

Representations

Generally they are more so seen as people with particular skills and abilities rather than embodiments of a particular element or force.

Sorry that was really long, I hope this was helpful to you in any way, even if you don't end up with gaelic polytheism good luck. One thing I will say is if you live in Ireland, maybe look up local legends and see if there are particular Sí or gods associated with your area, that's usually a good start. I would recommend Morgan Daimlers Irish Paganism for further reading.

If anyone else has other things to add to these questions please feel free to add on

#irish paganism #celtic paganism #gaelic paganism #irish polytheism #gaelic polytheism #celtic polytheism #mine #also dm me if you want to be able to find the book #I can go through this and get references for my claims if there is demand for it #paganism #gaelpol #dia

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abidethetempest · 11 months ago

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"Transl. from Eliksni" Flavor Text translated into Eliksni Conlang

Here are those flavor text lines I've been mentioning in every SotConlang post since the dawn of time! Finally! These were more of a "chip at it when there's downtime" project, since they're fairly short and simpler compared to than Null Composure. I'm very proud of them, as this is the culmination of several months of background work and my first completed translation project! *throws confetti*

side note: on Ishtar Collective, some items say "transl. from Eliksni" and others say "trans. from Eliksni". i definitely didn't only just find that out when I was close to being done w the original lines i found..... anyway idk what the reason for the difference is (probably diff ppl wrote the flavor texts) but now you all know if you want to go look these up yourselves. I made them all say "transl." for consistency here.

Translations are all below the cut, plus maybe some notes if I have the room/energy to write them!

New here and confused? This post is part of my ongoing project to create a language for the Eliksni! For more information check out my masterpost linked here.

"The Barons fight together." —Elykris, transl. from Eliksni

Aaviks Bahrenesni or’thrys.

"They gave us nothing… so we'll take everything." —Elykris, transl. from Eliksni

Teskem ak nam ryk elan… liium roksun el drrha.

"The Great Machine isn't killing us. We're killing ourselves over the Great Machine." —Brivi, transl. from Eliksni

Nam’mrathiik Aalosiisrohkani iven. Mrathiikya el nviks Aalosiisrohkani.

"Let them have the Great Machine. They deserve it." —Mithrax, transl. from Eliksni

Niidreh dreskibr kaas Aalosiisrohkani skeyris. Ksohls ak eyka.

"The Kells are dead or mad. The era of Houses is over. So I came to the Shore." —Arrha, transl. from Eliksni

Keles vaath’iir priit neyv. Dei’grehs iikrimni eyd Bohs. Liium estyrem neh ryk Nateskiini.

"I was of kings. Then of exiles. Now I'm here. The Shore is bad… but everywhere else is worse." —Brivi, transl. from Eliksni

Liirem neh eyd Bo-Usriis. Grev Bo-Nama. Rak ilo. Nateskiini pehka... drand eil drrhapriistis ar’pehka vei Nateskiini.

"I was at the Final Attempt. I saw a Guardian wield a gun that left molten gold in her wake. I ran and never looked back." —Avrok, transl. from Eliksni

Liirem neh yan Grehsriivaenni. Biir’em neh, greyraabt vathyarov heythiks usar’em, yan orey’em’iir neyok bev eydka greyr sriivikem. Thekrem neh taap namiik tamr biirem neh.

"We are a long way from home." —Arrha, transl. from Eliksni

El ksaan shak ketch.

"Here we can start over." —Mithrax, transl. from Eliksni

Ilo vaad niivrey seykrim el.

"How do you think we got here?" —Avrok, trans. from Eliksni

Greyrsa iruuksis klii, giire el ilo estyrem.

That was a whole lot of stuff so I think I'll leave the notes out (theyre not anything super special anyway lol). Might reblog to add some rambles later if anyone is interested!

#destiny 2 #destiny #eliksni #conlang #indee's eliksni conlang adventure

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kadavernagh · 7 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Saol Eile PARTIES: Regan, Elias, and Wynne SUMMARY: After a couple of stumbling blocks, Wynne and Elias both manage to find Regan at the clinic. No one gets quite what they want. CONTENT: Self-harm

How do you tell someone they wasted their time crossing the Atlantic for you?

“That’s no excuse for an infection,” Regan insisted, as she finished wrapping the hand of a young banshee. The dressing matched that of her own hands hiding under her gloves, but this child – only 14 years old – needed her hand smothered in antibiotic ointment before she could be bandaged up. Regan was vaguely aware of the bell above the door jingling, sounding the next patient’s arrival, a drop-in like most.

No one was screaming. It could wait.

She stayed focused on the child, one who was probably more adept at existing as a banshee than Regan was. “It will slow you down. You’re thinking of it as punishment when it should be acknowledged as a tool. You help no one and nothing if you allow your hand to fester off. Tell your mother I said that.” Such an exchange would have afflicted her voice with fragility a few weeks ago. Not such now. Regan gave the young girl a dull nod, which around here, was as good as an official discharge. She still stuck to the paperwork, though. The old band-aid dispenser never did. She was better than that thing.

“One minute,” she called out to the waiting room (which was really just a bigger room abutting her one and only examination room, neither designed sensibly with the intent of being used as a clinic). The child left. She rolled off her bloodied gloves into the trash and frowned down at her bandages. How had she managed to cast a stone in a glass house when there was no glass to be found? Regan knew what would come next. The girl would say something to her mother, her mother would say something to Cliodhna, and Cliodhna would see the irony in Regan giving anyone advice, then coat the cruelty on her fangs, waiting for the right moment to–

There was a strange sound, clanging, like something metal falling. Regan rose to alert like an old, dreary hound from a nap – with little haste nor care. “I said one minute,” she repeated flatly, without irritation. Then, for good measure, she said it again in English just in case. Come to think of it, she didn’t detect the presence of another fae. Was there not another patient here for her? After jotting down a couple of encounter notes and filing them away in the solitary file cabinet (which, again, the dispenser would have never done), she finally turned to the open door to face who she expected was to be her next patient, if anyone was there.

Except, it wasn’t real. Why was she seeing Wynne staring at her from across the room? Perhaps she really should call it a day if such phantoms were paying her a visit. But this Wynne was far more substantial than the other Wynnes, her brothers, the Jades, and Eliases that cast a flicker of doubt and then vanished; this one was not jumping around in her periphery or splitting from her senses upon recognition. Regan narrowed her eyes. Wynne remained both with and without her fís bháis, but she quickly flitted between the two anyway, now doubting her brain rather than her vision. Did the source of the delusion matter? It changed nothing.

“You’re a stubborn one.” There was no amusement in her tone, but when she realized she had switched to English, as if this Wynne would not be able to understand otherwise, a tickle of something heavier rose up in her chest. She was quick to smother it out. “Anyone out there waiting behind you? At least make yourself useful, if you are going to be my tormentor for the moment.”

-------

Something about this place reminded Wynne of home. Mostly in sinister ways, with the way death hung in the air and seemed to be part of every breath taken and move made. They understood why both Siobhan and Regan had mistaken them for their ilk and found that even here, it was doable to seem like they fit in. They knew animal bones, after all. They knew what it was like to respect death, to see it as something with as much purpose as life. They knew sacrifice.

And though these were all things they had escaped, they had twenty one years of experience with thinking in such a way. They fell back easily into it. If it weren’t for the people at home they missed, they might even grow filled with longing for a community like this again. But they didn’t, because they weren’t here for fun or play — they were here to help Regan as she’d helped them. They were here because places like these were bad, restrictive, perhaps even cruel at times. Because there was community to be found without sacrifice and constriction. And it was terrifying, to be somewhere so foreign yet familiar, to wonder if maybe – if they were sniffed out – they would become just another banshee sacrifice.

They had found their way to the clinic, which was where Dr Kavanagh supposedly was. Wynne felt tense taking up space, but that wasn’t much out of the ordinary. They didn’t understand the Gaelic spoken anywhere, so they just did what they were good at — bow their head and keep quiet. The waiting room was thankfully empty, save for a bowl of bone-shaped candies. They were hesitant, trailing around and wringing their hands, growing increasingly tense at the sound of Dr Kavanagh’s voice, but eventually reached for one. Maybe Nora would like one. And really, they were curious. Curse their trembling hands, though, as the subtle attempt to take one singular candy led to the bowl clanging onto the floor loudly. It seemed nothing could be done quietly in this corner of the world.

They crouched down, starting to sweep the bones into a heap and pouring them back in a bowl. They were trying not to cry, were trying to gather the courage to just walk in the room that Regan’s voice was coming from. But eventually she showed up, standing in the doorway in a white coat that was stained with blood. Wynne dropped a bone candy and it skittered away and they raised to their feet. Mouth agape (this was rude — so they shut it the second they noticed), eyes searching for a source of the blood. Had someone hurt Dr Kavanagh? The way people had tried to hurt Wynne when they’d come back home? How did banshees dole out discipline? Was Regan’s mother like Padrig had been to them, responsible for her obedience and duty? They blinked slowly, confused by Regan’s words. “It – yes – I maybe am stubborn. And it’s just me. I can —” They swallowed. “I can help. That’s what I’m here for! Not torment. To help. Are you okay? What’s that on your coat?”

-------

Wynne’s voice came out of Wynne’s mouth. Which would have been grand, except Wynne couldn’t be here; it was impossible. Not only impossible. They couldn’t be here. It would be their death, or someone’s death (no scream – right, there was no scream). Regan thought of Hamstring, the lie, how she increasingly spoke of Declan with fondness despite Regan’s pleas to pretend she had no interest in the boy, the spare. How it would inevitably unravel in bloody strands. Good intentions only brought more death and more suffering; here, it was in opposition to Fate.

“Blood… not mine.” She pointed lamely to the room behind her. “Clinic.”

Help. What a notion.

Wynne. Who should not have had the spine to follow her here. What happened? How was this even possible? Regan wasn’t sure why she was humoring it. The ham child snuck in with her luggage, but this place was not on any map. And did Wynne even have a passport (as if that was the most outlandish part of this)? No, this was some conjuration from part of her brain that she came here to ablate. For now, Regan would proceed under the assumption that this Wynne was just some manifestation of a mind gone rogue, of her longing for Wicked’s Rest (or rather, the people she left behind there– no, backtrack, do not think about Jade, do not get soggy again). She stared some more. She could not stop staring. When would the apparition vanish?

Regan’s eyes did not leave Wynne as she circled to the door, opened it a crack and flipped the sign. It now read: Dúnta. Scread más éigeandáil é.

Her face stayed impassive as her mind raced. Don’t speak to the macallaí, her grandmother once said. They only cling more. They become real. And what was Wynne if not an echo, a ghost? Regan no longer heard herself calling back, so others, like Wynne, were offering their voices.

“If you’re real…” She started, tone flat yet steeped in skepticism, and she circled Wynne as she spoke, “...then you’re on the wrong side of the Atlantic. Are you aware of that? Do you know where you are at all?” What a foolish question. But then, she felt like a fool. She just wasn’t yet sure if it was for entertaining the possibility that Wynne was here, or doubting that they were. Saol Eile was practically impossible to find and enter.

But Reilly had found her a year ago.

“Prove that you’re really here.” On some level, Regan knew it wasn’t fair to ask something of Wynne when she had no idea what Wynne could even do to fulfill the request. On the other hand, what in the putrid ulcer was this?

-------

It wasn’t her blood, which was some relief. Wynne remembered that Dr Kavanagh was indeed a doctor, and that it wasn’t just part of her name and there was some reassurance to be found in that, even if it was slim pickings. Why were there people bleeding here? They remembered Nora’s wounds with a grimace, remembered the blood spilled at home. Spread on cheeks, drained from a chicken, a lamb, a youth.

They blinked. “Oh.” They swallowed. “Does it get … busy? Is it … good work?”

Would the clinic look the same as her office, with the walls lined with dead things? The place that Wynne had come to without invite as well, bringing gifts. Their hands were empty now. No time for homemade yogurt and if they had found a dead bird, they were pretty sure another person would have taken it off their hands before they could have gotten it here. But they brought other things, didn’t they? Themself, though that wasn’t very spectacular. Elias, who wore his bleeding heart on his sleeve. (They had lost him, though, and they were trying not to think about the implications of losing a tall man among murderous banshees.) And then there were the messages from others who Regan and subsequently Nora had left behind, back at home.

They took in the doctor as she circled them, saw the wings laying flat against her back and felt their breath get stuck in their throat. It tended to do that every time they saw a banshee with their wings out, a sight that filled them with awe. They hadn’t yet dared to ask any of them if they could fly. They hadn’t asked to touch them either.

They refocused on Dr Kavanagh’s face and mouth and the words she was saying. “I … yes, I know, I saw it in the plane beneath me. I don’t think I ever saw anything prettier.” Wynne didn’t think that was relevant, but that too had filled them with awe. “I am in your commune. I – we, we searched for a long time. We sat and waited until we heard a scream and then we saw it, everything. Elias and me, that’s we. He’s — we got separated.”

Wynne was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how they could prove they were really here. “Um…” They crouched down and picked up a bone candy. Slowly they got back up to their full height and threw the candy at Regan, where it bounced against her chest and fell back onto the ground. “I’m here. Really.”

-------

“Some days. It’s fine.” Regan said tersely, still half-convinced she was speaking only to herself. Injuries she treated were mostly self-inflicted, which hollowed her out a little more each day. Back when Regan had lived here in the past, it took a couple of years before Cliodhna and the others trusted her to be able to do this, to have some sort of purpose beyond the great one being prescribed to her. It was simultaneously one of the few pockets of comfort here, and one that stripped away her pericardium the fastest. Her grandmother might have recognized that before Regan did. That might have been the whole point.

Wynne’s small voice was the gentlest she’d heard in days that felt like months. Even when Regan imagined others from back home (don’t, don’t, don’t), they did not speak to her like this. They were limited by what kindness Regan could extend to herself, which depleted like a skeleton getting picked clean by the hour. What would be left once the soft tissue was gone (please, wouldn’t it go?) would be perfect, stark, eternal.

She frowned at the familiar vision, interloper, whatever they were. Regan would not have called this place a commune. That was Wynne’s term. And… we. Who– her heart thumped for a certain impossible answer. When it wasn’t that, surely that should have been better. Not really. Elias’s name was like a bone snapping in her ears. “What? You brought him with you? Are you mad? Both of you?” Even she was surprised by the lack of rote monotone… just when she had been improving. Sort of. Tiny specks of improvement awash in failures. Regan pressed her hand to her forehead. This headache had to leave her. Because it was that, right? A migraine. She had never had a migraine, but that was beyond the point. It was never too late to start (yes it was, you could be too old to succeed at something, it was easier to fail after so many wasted years).

Regan didn’t know what Wynne had in mind when they reached for one of the candies. Were they going to eat it? That didn’t prove a thing. But then it arced through the air and bounced like a bird hitting a window when it struck her sternum. Narrowed eyes filled black and met Wynne’s.

She did not want to think about what her grandmother would have done in response to the insult. A human throwing a piece of candy at a banshee. But she was thinking about it anyway. Would Cliodhna have reached for Wynne’s wrist and pulverized their carpal bones? Regan found her boot hovering over the candy, but… she bent down and picked it up instead, turning it over in her hands. Pocketing it.

No. She could not think about her grandmother and Wynne ever being in the same place.

But… were they? The answer started in her chest, twisted her stomach, and then made her brain feel like it had been starved of oxygen. Wynne in Saol Eile. How? She wasn’t sure yet. But clearly she should have tied more than only Jade to their words. A mass of questions formed in Regan’s mind and clotted there, but she couldn’t cough them out. Where was Elias? Was he somewhere safe? He shouldn’t be alone here. Was Wynne safe? Had they talked to anyone? How was this possible? And how could she even begin to ask about Jade? Should she? No matter the answer, it would be sharper than any blade. And Van, Erin, Metzli… even Emilio. The names started tripping over themselves. Her breathing, the same. She paced across the small room. Wynne was here. They hadn’t stowed away like the ham child. How had they even found this place? They weren’t safe. Had there been glass in here, it would have cut a thousand times.

“Wynne…” How do you tell someone they wasted their time crossing the Atlantic for you? How do you tell their heart that? “I’m not going back with you. I’m sorry.” Something heavy and thick welled up inside her chest, but there was no scream to lock in. “You… it isn’t a wasted trip, though. There is someone you need to take back with you. The ham child is here. I don’t know how you managed to find this place, but you will collect her, and you will leave.”

-------

Maybe they weren’t the best person to judge whether Dr Kavanagh was happy here. Wynne hadn’t often seen her happy in Wicked’s Rest, after all — but there had been that moment with the rabbit or when they had brought the bird. Most of the time, though, she seemed as contained and closed as most things they had encountered in life and they’d accepted that much. But hadn’t Regan told her to demand more? Shouldn’t she demand more?

Because despite them not being in any position to try and rule on her happiness, Wynne did have a feeling that Regan wasn’t happy here. She didn’t talk of her work the way she had back at home. She didn’t ask if they’d brought a creature of some sort. And then there was all Nora had said. (And maybe, as they often did when it came to the other, they were projecting — maybe they didn’t want her to be happy, because if she was happy that might mean that they would be happier back home.)

They pressed, a little. “Do you miss your old job?” It was innocuous enough. Emilio had taught them, hadn’t he? Play the role of the naive. Was it playing when that’s what they were? They weren’t sure.

They remained standing there as Regan asked them about Elias, no flinch coursing through their bones. Part of them had wanted to, though, but they’d both known that Dr Kavanagh wouldn’t be happy if they showed up. Wynne hadn’t expected a hug and a tour. “He … well, we brought each other. I don’t think I could’ve done this alone.” They shrugged. They were quiet for a moment. “Maybe. But I think being here might also be mad. I don’t want you to be somewhere that’s bad for you.”

Though they hadn’t flinched before, they did feel themself tense in anticipation the moment they’d thrown that bone. As narrowed, inky eyes landed on them they shrunk a little, expecting to be berated and disciplined, to be told off, for Regan to mirror the elders they’d once had in their life. But for those people Wynne wouldn’t do this. For those people Wynne hadn’t gone after that demon, either. Regan was different than their former elders — she was better. But she was also – perhaps just like those other elders and certainly just like Wynne – misguided.

But the hammer didn’t fall, as it never did. Regan was kind like that. It would have been forgivable, had she yelled, but in stead she just picked up the little bone and put it away. They just hoped it was enough to prove they were there — Wynne wasn’t really sure how else to go about it as everything around them felt surreal. It felt surreal in Wicked’s Rest too, though: that’s just how they tended to feel about the world and their body in it.

Regan spoke again and said the dreaded thing, the thing they’d already known. They nodded, because they did hear what she was saying. It made sense to Wynne, who had stayed for years and years in a place that wished them dead. “I know. I mean, I knew you’d say that. But I am here to try anyway.” They thought of Nora. “I know Hamstring is here. She told me you don’t want to leave, but you also know she won’t leave without you. I think the same goes for Elias.” A beat. Did that go for them, too? Wynne wasn’t forceful, weren’t as determined as Nora or as brilliant as Elias. They were here, once, in a place where a perfect hole was cut out for them and they belonged. Where they were with people like them. They understood that Regan didn’t want to go, even if it was better. But they understood that Regan had left once before, just as they had. That there was more than what blood demanded. “Me too.”

Wynne didn’t like idle hands, so they knelt down, starting to gather fallen bones while looking at Regan. “Why do you want to be here?” They looked around. “What is there here that you don’t have in Maine?” They put the bones back in the bowl, they clinked merrily even though there was nothing happy to find here. “I … I understand duty. I understand sacrifice. I understand that home isn’t always kind but that it’s still home and that that isn’t a place you should leave.” More bones gathered. Why were there so many? Why did they feel so heavy, like rocks? They turned one over in their restless hands. “And that you feel you don’t want to leave. I just think maybe …” They swallowed. “There is more.”

-------

It hadn’t taken long for Elias and Wynne to get separated. With all the fantasticalness that was being surrounded by a bunch of fae, Elias forgot to stick to the buddy system. Which, par for the course, really. After rooting around for what felt like hours, he finally found himself captured by a tall, very serious banshee woman. She had long copper hair and piercing green eyes. Elias could find himself very easily lost in them if he wasn’t careful. He needed to be careful. “Who do you belong to?” She spoke plainly, clearly annoyed by his very presence.

Elias blinked owlishly in return to the woman’s question. “Uh…” he trailed off, realizing he had no idea if Regan went by Regan here. “Great, you’re stupid, too.” The banshee rolled her eyes and tugged him along. “Come, we’ll get you checked at the clinic.” She insisted, hand gripping tightly on his arm as she forced him to follow. The clinic, that’s absolutely where he’d find Regan. He tried to stifle his enthusiasm.

As he was dragged along, he caught glimpses of women with wings and fantastical things, but it wasn’t something he could stop and take notes about, no. This woman had him in a choke hold and was dragging him along to see Regan, the whole purpose of his mission here. As they entered the clinic, the woman shot him a withering stare. “Stay put.” She hissed before turning to Regan and Wynne. “I found this one wandering without a chaperone.” She spoke, her voice dripping with disdain. Elias looked over to Regan finally and gave a bright smile. He didn’t dare wave. He didn’t dare move. He was still stuck to this scary banshee woman.

-------

“I don’t miss, and I don’t want.” It was a lie that took a smaller bite out of her each day. At least Wynne registered no surprise at Regan’s refusal. This mission was dead on arrival. Normally, she liked that. Not right now. She didn’t approve of the mission. “So you’re aware this is mad, you’re aware of the ham child’s situation, and you have no idea what is keeping me here. Yet you will not leave without me.” There had been a pause before Wynne’s declaration, though, and Regan was curious what they had been weighing. Some weakness she could use to call Wynne back to Maine? The girlfriend, maybe. Others left behind. So many cared for them, as evident by what happened at Moosehead Lake. This would be at their expense, all of those people; did Wynne realize that? Did Elias?

Regan pulled a long breath through her teeth (she was not frustrated, she wasn’t) and hunched down, scooping up the candy with Wynne. Not to help. Only to rid the floor of hazards. And it gave her somewhere to look that was not into Wynne’s sad – and mature beyond their years – eyes. Wynne did deserve more answers at the least, and perhaps they could bring them to Elias and then home to others so no one else had this foolish idea take root in their brain.

“Like I said, I do not want. But if I go back, I will hurt people. I do not mean the temporary sting of separation. Not tomorrow, maybe not the day after, but it’s an inevitability. My grandmother always said control only comes with duty, and for us, that’s true. And why should Fate look kindly upon a rogue instrument?” Regan swept the last of the nearby candies back into the bowl and rose again, practically looking through Wynne. “We give up a lot for control. Nearly everything. If a banshee is… suitable, the lessons stick, the mind and heart quiet, and control is as simple as breathing. That can only be learned here.” She hesitated, unsure how much to tell Wynne about what went on at the cabin. Vague, as always, was where she landed. “I tried to continue what I was learning while in Wicked’s Rest. It did not work. It lost effectiveness. I lost effectiveness. Should I have waited until Jade exploded into millions of pieces against me? Or until I brought down a building? Until something terrible happened that I would need to live with for centuries? No…” She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Speaking that name nearly choked her.

Regan crossed her arms, letting the weakness pass, but she could not completely shake it. Her voice grew quiet. “Here, I have the potential for more, someday.” But she would not want it when it came. “Does that–”

The door was thrown open and time seemed to slow down for a second, affording Regan three thoughts in quick succession. One, had they not read the sign on the door? Two, she needed to hide Wynne or at least be ready to provide an excuse for them being there. And three, it was Brenna, an acquaintance of her grandmother’s who seemed to be… strangling someone? Very tall. Male. Elias. Regan opened her mouth to protest but there was no telling how this was going to shake out yet. Give it a moment. Regan stood a little straighter – other banshees always stretched out her spine – and whatever weakness Wynne and Jade had drawn out was wiped from her face. Even with Elias there. Especially with Elias there, if he was to remain in one piece. The fool, what was he– “You were right to bring him here,” Regan cleared her throat, returning the Irish from Brenna. “Long and lanky, yes? It’s no wonder he’s unfamiliar; he probably sees little sunlight.” Lucky Elias didn’t know Gaeilge. Regan sighed, feigning boredom, and stretched new gloves over her hands. She stared down, making a show of wiggling each finger into the perfect fit as she spoke. Ready to do a full cavity search. “Leave him with me. I will do a thorough examination and find where he belongs.”

Brenna’s radiant hair swished as she turned to Wynne. That was bad. And, worse: Brenna’s eyes went dark as she searched for answers, clues, but she would not find any on the human. Regan’s mind jumped to a lie, however unnatural it felt – she had spared Hamstring some danger for now, and she might be able to do the same for Wynne. “I am preparing the human for an chéad scread.” Regan supplied it in English this time (at least the parts she knew the English for), so Wynne did not do anything rash to contradict what they did not understand. Her stomach felt molten at the flagrant lie, but just as she had with Cliodhna, she did not let it reach her face. “It will not be for some time – it’s for one of the children who came of age while I was gone. You won’t scream now.” Brenna seemed to accept this, and pushed a flailing Elias in Regan’s direction. Regan caught his arm and steadied him, not too overtly caring, only practical, given their company. Brenna switched back to English too, a show for the humans. She craved the drama, always did. Regan’s grandmother had some limited fondness for Brenna, but complained of her histrionics frequently. “Doctor. I changed my mind, it is good you’re back. We finally have someone to handle all of these humans. The old band-aid dispenser was not as thorough.” She waved a deceptively delicate hand toward Elias and Wynne. “Someone has to do it, right, this low work? It must feel like such a waste.” Regan didn’t have to respond; Brenna was already out the door, and when it slammed shut, she was left with the two humans.

No, Wynne and Elias. Relief swelled inside of her that Elias was not only located, but here, safe, for now. It was short-lived when the reality of the situation became unbearably obvious. Her eyes lifted blue again as she shot the iciest glare between them, lethal enough to kill the dead a second time. The two needed to see how cross she was, because if anger was going to mark her failure right now, it was better brought to the surface where it might make them leave. If she was going to answer for something, let it not be their lives. “Wynne said you’re not going without me. I was telling them this is impossible, and you have demonstrated why. You just became human sacrifices.”

-------

Regan laid out the flawed plan and Wynne could only blink at it, the foolishness of it all. It was mad, wasn’t it? A lost cause? A problem with no solution. Wishful thinking and a reality that would never agree with that fantasy. Except they had been in impossible situations before. Wynne had spent most of their life preparing for a death that was inescapable, a fate that had been promised to them at birth. Life had been lied out for them and it had been that simple, that definitive.

But they had left. They had left and yes, someone had gotten hurt. They had left and they’d stumbled like a newly born lamb, wide-eyed and shaky on their legs but they’d left and broken with that definitiveness. Regan had helped them with that. They looked at her, trying to find the right way to put that sentiment into words. Their thoughts were like the bones scattered over the floor. The other was better at scooping up, at putting things into methodical and clear words while Wynne was still scrambling, picking up bone after bone and trying to string a sentence together to explain what had brought them here. “This can’t be all there is,” they interjected, once.

And then the other laid more on the table than sheer logic — there was something like fear, too. Wynne wasn’t sure exactly how banshees worked, how this place worked, and that made it tough. How could they argue something they didn’t know? “I don’t … I just don’t see how this place can help, when back in Maine –” They breathed in. “You have people there.” They were trying to find the words still, but there was no point in the hunt any more as the door burst open.

Their back straightened, eyes dancing from the strange banshee to Elias. Wide, questioning, wondering if he was okay but attempting not to give an inch. There was the Irish lilt again, the language that was impossible to decipher. They just stood there, waiting for the stranger to leave the room, hoping that she would and that they hadn’t brought any issues to where Regan now conducted her business. When she switched to English to address them, albeit indirectly, they didn’t speak. This was a role Wynne could fulfill, even if they didn’t know what an chéad scread was. They knew what being prepared for something was, and though they were ignorant, their experience came in perfectly. They barely registered the disrespect, watched Elias flail towards Regan and themself and remained that same thing they had been at home — head bowed, submissive, understanding that they were part of something bigger. They were just playing at it now, though. Weren’t they?

Weren’t they?

But then finally Regan spoke again, with cold eyes and an anger Wynne knew intimately. Not from her, but from others. They heard the words echo, those two last ones. Circling around their mind. Sacrifice, human, human sacrifice. Murder with no real purpose. Inevitable, the inescapable grasp of fate in the back of their neck like Padrig's meaty fingers digging in their flesh. And this time they had ran towards it. They paled, stumbled, wished the candies were still on the ground so they could crouch down again and become smaller. Their mouth opened, but it took a moment before a sound to come out, “No.” They heard how pathetic it sounded, how small and scratchy, how desperate. But the sentiment remained.

Regan and Siobhan had both told them that it wasn’t their fate to die, so why did this happen again, again, again? The knife at home, the ustras in the woods, the vampires in the barn, the monster that had attacked Van, and now this. “We won’t. And you — you won’t … you said.” They shook their head, not wanting to speak against fate when it was screaming at them. “You said to demand. That’s what we’re doing.”

-------

As soon as the banshee had left, so too did Elias’s inability to speak up for himself. So much had gotten him to this point, and he wasn’t about to throw that all away because some banshee decided they were now going to be a human sacrifice. A human sacrifice? No, Elias decided. Too long had he been a sitting duck for other people’s decisions. He went to engineering school for his family. He went to Ireland for Regan. He was done letting himself be tossed around from side to side like he was a boat on a stormy sea. As soon as the door shut, Elias’s face went cold and angry. “Regan, we’re here because you’re being fucking ridiculous.” Out went a happy-go-lucky Elias. If this quest had taught him anything, it was that if he wanted to get something done, he had to demand answers.

“You came here because you decided you needed to be. Why? Because of someone else’s decisions.” He thrust his finger at the door he’d been pushed through by Brenna. “You’re here because you think you can only be a successful banshee by surrounding yourself with archaic views of the past. What about us?” Elias’s eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “What about your friends that you can call a family? Wynne, the freaky girl, and I are in Ireland for you.” He thrust his finger in Regan’s direction this time.

Elias’s voice dropped from the mounting anger to one of desperation and deep sadness. “I told you I’d do anything for you. This is me doing anything. You belong with us. With Jade. You belong in Wicked’s Rest where you made yourself be something more than what your grandmother told you to be!” His voice grew louder as he spoke until he was nearly shouting. He stopped, took a deep breath, and rubbed a hand down his face in clear exasperation.

Poor Elias Kahtri, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, feels too deeply only to be rejected by everyone in his life. It stopped here. “We’re not leaving without you. And I’m not stopping until I get you to see that what you’re doing here is pointless. If these people cared about you, they wouldn’t force you into a box. I know this is what you think you need, but what about what the rest of us need?” He looked to the distressed and sullen Wynne and shook his head. He didn’t know what Wynne had been through, but he’d picked up on their clear nervousness and naivety about the world to know that there was something deeper he hadn’t been told about. That wasn’t his business.

Elias stared down at the ground as he made his final point, hands balled into tight fists. “I came here because I decided some people are worth crossing oceans for.” His voice was quiet and nearly imperceptible as he spoke. Finally, he looked up to meet Regan’s eyes. “To us, you’re worth moving mountains for. I told you I would. This is me doing it. So don’t leave us to be sacrificed for some old-fashioned women who hate humans. Come with us.”

-------

Sacrifices. Regan already was one in her own right, carved out at the altar, and now they would join her. What else could she have said? Anything else would have gotten back to her grandmother. And then not only would Wynne and Elias be outed as fr– humans from Maine, but Cliodhna would have figured the same of the ham child, too. And then all three of them would have served a slightly different function, but would be dead all the same (what it would be, Regan wasn’t sure – perhaps they would be blown up as a demonstration to a child, or tossed in the tar pit, or given as an offering to the worms; each possibility made her blood drain downward as her mind flicked through them all). But Elias and Wynne could still get out of here before anyone started looking for them. Or they could hide away until they could be smuggled. It wasn’t too late. She just needed to knock some sense into their thick skulls (unfortunately, this seemed more like a trepanation situation, blunt force trauma only got you so far).

“This is not what I meant by demanding.” Had Regan needed any more proof that Wynne really was there, that would have supplied it. “You were supposed to make demands for your own life, demand respect from those around you and for yourself, so you are no longer satisfied with being pushed around and accepting what is given to you. But you don’t make demands of me. You don’t ask anything of me. Either of you.” The tight squeeze in her lungs would have been sufficient to punch out the lights, had there been any available for the role. What use was anything she had done here, any progress she had made, if she could not keep a lid on the rising tide inside of her? She tried to remind herself of that. Her fingers squeezed against the bandages beneath her gloves, but she only felt the hard jade ring around her finger, assaulted by ghosts both present and far away.

They should have meant little to her. Maybe not nothing, not yet – it could take years – but why had practically nothing changed? It wasn’t working. Her stomach bled, she coughed water from her lungs for hours, she had struck herself until her cheeks were dry, but everything felt… backwards. Like the clinic was the oddity, Ireland the thing that was out of place, not Elias and Wynne. Ever the failure, she still saw familiar faces when she looked at the two of them. More than familiar. More than acquaintances. There was a harsh pricking in her sinuses and she was quick to refuse it. Regan’s eyes filled with black again, breaking the hold the ghosts had on her. Coward, she thought, knowing she was taking an easy way out of locking in any nascent tears. Did it matter? Not if it worked. She noted trails of darkness wafting from the examination room, bones at their point of origin. There was nothing over Wynne (they did not come bearing gifts like usual) and Elias was alive as ever. Let’s keep it that way, she reminded herself.

There was truth to what both of them said, and Regan rose to challenge it with all that she had to become. She tried to press her voice flat, to cram and twist her hand down on top of it like she could plug it with her palm, and perhaps there was some degree of success, an improvement from how she had sounded back in Wicked’s Rest, a facsimile of a heartless drone, but all she heard was the child Cliodhna knew her to be. “You come here knowing absolutely nothing and expect me to follow you out like some complacent leanbh. I serve Fate, not you. You don’t know why I came here, you don’t know enough to call anything archaic, and you assume I think anyone here cares for me or that it matters.” Regan had never once been under the illusion that her grandmother loved her. That anyone humored her presence for any reason other than her medical expertise and bloodline. She hadn’t come here seeking affection. The assumptions continued: calling her a person, presuming banshees hated humans (could hate anything). Any rising emotion in her voice was exterminated like she’d choked it with a cold fist. Under her gloves, she imagined blood soaking through bandage, and her heart finally, after minutes of attempting to get it to quiet, slowed. “I have already told you, I am not coming with you. I belong here. You do not.”

She could do this. She would. Elias was close, his big, sopping eyes boring straight into hers. And there was Wynne, sweet, timid Wynne, who had the fire of determination kindling in their eyes with every passing moment the word sacrifice still rang through the room. They would scrape away at her composure if she let them and she’d slide back into that marshy affectation; she would not let so many days of her own sacrifice crumble because of a few charged words and too much self-reflection. (Did the ring hear that? It ought to.)

Regan could prevent this from becoming a complete failure. She knew what she needed to do because she had done it before: she had left, clenching a tangle of the heart’s veins and arteries between her fingers, only some of them from her own body. Her wings flicked once against her back as she turned away. If anything, didn’t they mark her as being something of this place? So let them have a nice, long look. Regan paused in front of the counter, sliding a key on it. She did not face them, and her voice remained stiff as the dead. “There is an upstairs. It will be dusty and uncomfortable, but there are a few extra patient chairs and a bathroom. I expect you to be silent while I have others here. Explain to anyone who stops you outside – as I recognize that you will need to leave – that you are being examined by me. I will arrange for your departure.” Before they died for their stupidity. Somehow.

Her body decided to give her one final test. It froze before the doorway. Her legs knew where the rest of her wanted to be, but this was why the body had to be trained, and it would be trained. Regan inhaled a long breath, her shoulders forcing themselves tight, upright, and she walked out on those who crossed an ocean for her.

-------

Elias did what no one ever had for Wynne back at home. He attempted to shake Regan awake, to demanded that she see reason, that this martyrdom – imposed by herself but her family, too – was something cruel. He was fighting for her in a way they weren’t sure how to do, even if they agreed with some of the ideas he vocalized. And it all seemed so simple, coming from his mouth. Like these were the easiest things to say and ask of another, as if he didn’t feel weighed down with the recognition that made it hard for them to breathe. They were glad he was here.

Who were they, after all? Stumbling and uncomfortable, all too aware of why Regan was here and why she didn’t want to leave? Their mind traveled to Metzli, who had tied themself up in a small room out of fear of hurting someone. They thought of themself, never daring to step a toe out of line at home, afraid that even thinking of abandoning their duty would hurt their community. But Metzli had left the confines of that place and Wynne had turned their back and eventually made up for the carnage caused — or at least so they thought.

Responsibility and duty weighed heavy, but why should they have to constrict a person? They looked between the two, the difference in emotion that painted their features and they felt hopelessly powerless. They felt their chest grow tight at the prospect of remaining in this place where they might have to climb on an altar after all, and it being all for naught. Would Regan truly watch them die and stand by?

They would like to think not, but they had been repeatedly disappointed in that area before.

So they were quiet. They didn’t have the speech that Elias had, were dumbfounded and struggling to verbalize what they did believe to be the truth. That there were alternatives, that there were always other ways — that it didn’t have to be the way others always said it had to be.

But they glanced at Regan, “Shouldn’t you demand better too?” It was said quietly. “Shouldn’t you be respected?” That woman, before, she had been cruel. Nora had said they called Regan a baby. Wynne knew what it looked like to be respected — they had been, once. Sanctified and revered, considered someone of a higher ranking within the commune. They knew hierarchy. They felt it exist around them in this place.

She was so clinical, so distant and hard to grasp. Wynne felt their voice die out again, just watched the wings flutter and waited for Regan to turn around. Maybe this would be easier without Elias here, who didn’t know about the demon, the sacrifices, the home they had once abandoned. Maybe they should tell him about it in the attic they were being pointed to.

They moved forward and took the key. There was a moment of hesitation and then they pulled their backpack towards them, opening up the front pocket to produce a few slips of paper. Written letters, more eloquent than their attempts at convincing Regan had been. “These are for you,” they said. They didn’t say any more, didn’t beg the other to stay. Some things took time, especially in a mind that was filled with teachings that might not be correct. Wynne knew this, even if they didn’t understand it. Most of all, they didn’t want Regan to be mad again.

They watched as the other left without the letters, silent and unmoving and struck with a look of defeat. Soon enough they’d remember how they had left in the end. How Metzli had left in the end. How Regan had left once before. They looked at Elias. “Let’s go upstairs.”

-------

There were so many more things that Elias had wanted to say to Regan, to make her see sense, but in the end, he’d done his part. He’d said his peace, and now it was up to Regan to want it. After all, how do you help someone unwilling to see reason? Who doesn’t think that they need it? You can’t. So Elias took Regan’s response with a blank expression as if he were receiving feedback from a superior. “Fine. Walk into a world where no one respects you. Walk away from everyone who cares about you.” He spoke, tone clipped and angry.

Yelling at Regan would do nothing. It wouldn’t make him feel better either, but the way he wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her back and forth until she came around, he knew it wouldn’t work. She had to want it. And she didn’t want it. He didn’t say anything as Regan left and didn’t try to fight here anymore. He’d said what he needed to say.

He looked to Wynne, who looked like they were battling a storm behind their eyes. They spoke quietly, and Elias nodded his head in agreement. He didn’t look up to Regan; he just kept his gaze focused on the floor. If he looked up, it would risk Regan seeing the anger in his eyes. He didn’t want to be angry at her. He wanted to be angry at everyone in her life, which led her to believe that this was what her life was supposed to be. Her life belonged wherever she pleased with Jade at her side. Not this, where creativity and personality were stifled in order to serve ‘fate.’

When Regan froze in the doorway, Elias’s face fell. He finally looked up at Regan’s frozen form and sighed. “We came here because we love you. Not because we think you need to serve anything.” He finally said after the anger had dissipated. “Just think about what we’ve said. Read the letters.” He finally tore his gaze away from Regan and looked to Wynne and nodded, a look of defeat clear in his eyes. “Yeah.” He said meekly, shuffling for the stairs. “Let’s… go hide.”

#writing #c wynne #c elias #self harm tw

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