#Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fey-touched-trilogy · 2 years ago

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Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review ->

I posted 110 times in 2022

That's 110 more posts than 2021!

19 posts created (17%)

91 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@author-a-holmes

@fey-touched-trilogy

@athena-anna-rose

@cwritesfiction

@nothingbutloveforyou

I tagged 110 of my posts in 2022

#fey touched trilogy - 92 posts

#changeling - 82 posts

#ari speaks - 76 posts

#arista speaks - 76 posts

#lizzy hail - 73 posts

#portal fantasy - 72 posts

#ari writes - 65 posts

#lila isabelle hail - 65 posts

#arista writes - 64 posts

#fey - 58 posts

Longest Tag: 35 characters

#whatever happened to madeline hail?

My Top Posts in 2022:

Camp Nano July 2022 Sneak Peek

Image Transcript;

Sneak Peek!

It was too quiet, Nameer had told Andric the night before, standing in the Hunters equipment room and peeling off weapons and armor so they could be serviced.

The forest. The animals. The hunters had seen signs of kavians, but not encountered a single one.

Andric had been able to see the anxious tension on his friends face, but hadn't been able to offer the man any reassurances.

He'd been foolish. Lax. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the signs—

He interrupted his own thoughts by knocking on the door to Lizzy's rooms, hard and fast, and waiting impatiently, shifting his weight.

"Come on, come on," Andric muttered, knocking again, louder, the firm thumps against the wood bordered on thunderous and, finally, he could hear scrambling movement on the other side of the door.

It was Cara who answered, eyes wide and confused as she stared out at them, but Andrics gaze immediately went over her head to lock on Lizzy, the fear that had curled around his heart easing just slightly at the sight of her.

She was only half-awake, with her blue eyes glazed, and her long dark hair sleep mussed.

"What's going on?" Cara hissed, clutching a dressing gown around her form, and Andric sucked in a sharp breath, before clenching his teeth.

"I can't say."

5 notes - Posted July 26, 2022

Fey Touched Stories;

Prequel - Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail?

Book One - Changeling

Book Two - Darkling

Book Three - Fey Touched

Seasonal Novella - Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday

The Fey Touched Trilogy is a Portal Fantasy and planned to be my debut novel series. I'd ideally like to publish Book One, Changeling, in the first quarter of 2023, so I'll be focussing on completing the entire trilogy in 2022 so that I can follow a rapid release schedule for the series.

My Newsletter is up and running! Sign up HERE if you'd like to download and read the series prequel, 'Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail?' and keep up to date on my publishing journey.

Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?

When Madeline Hail makes the journey from the fey realm of Arbaon to the mortal realm, she thinks the greatest danger is to her heart. Instead, she finds herself quickly fighing for her life against rabid kavians intent on claiming her magical fey-blood for themselves.

When she is inevitably outnumbered and overpowered, making an unthinkable bargain might be the only way to save her life, but being alive doesn't mean she's safe.

Changeling

Fey go missing in the mortal realm. Everyone knows that. When Lizzy's mother is the next to vanish she is expected to grieve and move on. Instead Lizzy wants to find out what happened, but the answers she seeks can't be found in the fey realm of Arbaon. With the help of her best friend, Booker Reed, Lizzy is determined to retrace her mother's final steps, straight through an illegal portal and into the mortal realm. Whatever leads she expected to find, it wasn't an academy of vampires, and a world stalked by their rabid cousins, the kavians. Forced to rely on the vampires for protection, and secluded away behind the high walls of Speculo School, it quickly becomes clear that not everyone is pleased with Lizzy and Booker's investigation. With danger building the further they dig, the two fey need to decide if the answers they seek are worth risking their lives for. The longer they remain with the vampires, the more Lizzy begins to suspect that her answers instead lie amongst the deadly kavians.

See the full post

5 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

30 Days to 70k - Camp Nano July 2022

Post nine, for July 11th & 12th...

July 11th did not happen.

We're not even talking about July 11th.

Suffice to say it was another zero word day.

On the other hand, July 12th went okay.

I wanted to get around 4k, I managed 1,833 words. I'm willing to take it and not complain, considering how the previous few days have gone.

The UK is also in the middle of a heatwave, to concentrating through the soup that my brain has become is... troublesome.

I'm going to try and get my seven day lead back for July 13th, but frankly, anything over my minimum needed word count (which is currently sitting at 1,642) I'll consider a win until this temperature eases off a little.

And that's my update, now someone pass me a ice cream...

6 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

Work In Progress Wednesday - My Most Recent Lines...

The Fey Touched Trilogy

Work In Progress Wednesday; Most Recent Lines

"Lizzy Hail," Andric murmured softly, "the five-foot-three bundle of stubbornness and determination. The young woman who won't back down from anything. Not even a rabid kavian. Not even when I've spent weeks teaching her how to run from one. Whose telekinesis was strong enough to protect herself and her friend."

Carefully Lizzy opened her eyes, and turned to look at Andric. He'd moved even closer, and was now leaning one shoulder against the tree she had her back pressed against, staring down at her with an infinitely gentle expression that made her heart slam against her chest.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly, and the corners of his mouth twitched up into a familiar flash of a smile.

"I'm being honest with you," he answered gently.

- - Changeling by Arista Holmes (Chapter Thirty-Five)

Fey Touched and General Taglist under read-more...

@jezifster @cedar-west @faelanvance @noirepersonal @queen-kass-the-writer @athenswrites @thelaughingstag @talesfromaurea @authorminamoroz @bardic-tales @writeblrsupport

If you'd like to be added or removed from any of my taglists, please let me know <3

9 notes - Posted August 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

30 Days to 70k - Camp Nano July 2022

Post one, for July 1st...

This is a spur of the moment thing, I've no idea how consistent I'll be going forward, but I wanted to give a progress update for Day 1 of Camp Nano.

First things first, I'm a night-time writer. My most productive period of the day is between 10pm and 5am. This creates some unique challenges for Nanowrimo, since the tracker ticks over in the middle of my writing sessions.

Which is why, when midnight rolled around, I wasn't too worried that I hadn't hit my goal yet.

At the end of Day One, I had a word count of 2,069. 281 short of my minimum daily words needed to reach 70k by the end of the month. But, I logged my words, and kept writing! I was in peak time!

It's currently 5.40am. I stopped writing about half an hour ago, and my word count for July 2nd is currently sitting at 5,034.

And any words I add after I wake up this afternoon, and before midnight rolls around, will only add to that.

We're getting there! Experience with Nano tells me that the more "gap" I can give myself between what I have, and what I need, in this first week, the higher the likelihood will be that I'm successful, so here's to the next 5 days being just as epic!

How has everyone else done during the first 24-hour of nano? Tell me your word counts, or about your projects, in the comments, tags, reblogs etc <3

See the full post

10 notes - Posted July 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

0 notes

crownlessliestheking · 4 years ago

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the chain that snaps

Here it is, my Tolkien Secret Santa fic, on both tumblr (under the Keep Reading) and on AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145298) for your perusal. This was great, and I really hope my giftee enjoys it, even though this remains anonymous for now. Many thanks for @officialtolkiensecretsanta organizing this, and happy holidays, everyone!

The throne digs into his lower back, but Finrod consoles himself as he has all day- with the knowledge that this is but a formality he must sit through as King, and that on the morrow, he can be off, leaving Artaresto in charge once more. The Dwarrowfolk in Belegost, he thinks- it has been many a year since last he visited, since they named him Felagund and he took the epessë unto himself gladly and delighted in it.

He does not know them well, for all that their realms trade; they are a secretive bunch, but Finrod has treated with them, broken bread, and they have fought with the Noldor. That is enough to forge ties, he thinks. And besides, he longs to see the mountains again, breathe in the crisp air. Nargothrond is beautiful, and it is his in a way that no corner of Aman had been, but the crown is itself a shackle at times.

Ruefully, Finrod thinks that perhaps he is not suited to kingship and its more tedious daily tasks. His thoughts stray for a moment, back to Valinor, where his father is no doubt High King of the Noldor. He may be better suited for it. Certainly, kingship in Aman has less- contention. There is, after all, no Enemy to contend with.

He shifts in his throne again. He suspects his father’s throne is rather more comfortable too, if it sees any use, but movement near the entrance to the hall catches his eye.

“My lord,” says Artaresto, coming into the hall. He sketches out a bow, brief. He is tenser than usual- for all that Finrod tries to get him to relax, he refuses steadfastly- and that draws his attention immediately.

“Nephew,” Finrod greets him, straightening up. The metal of his throne presses uncomfortably against his spine as he does. “I had thought you were out ranging with some of the guard.”

So as to avoid Finrod himself doing so, he does not say, but the fond exasperation is still clear in his voice. Finrod has never been one to deny his emotions.

“I was,” comes the answer. “We encountered two others, journeying to Nargothrond from Himring.”

Not Maedhros or Maglor, Finrod suspects. Not from the look on Artaresto’s face, brows drawn together, lips turned into a frown. Around him, the court stirs in unease. Finrod rises from the throne, and his nephew strides over to stand next to him.

“Come, then, tell me who it is you found wandering the road?” he prompts, voice light to lift the shroud of gloom that is descending upon the room. “Surely not more from Himlad who had thought to shelter there before they grew weary of the chill? There is room plenty in these halls, and perhaps they may even find those who they thought were lost here.”

But Artaresto remains silent, and there is an uncertain look about his face.

“Yes, indeed, more from Himlad, fair cousin,” comes a familiar, lazy drawl from the entrance through the hall. There had been a wave of murmurs across the room earlier, but now the silence is a death knell. “Surely you would not turn us away? You have already taken in many of our people.”

“A gift so freely given would be miserly if rescinded,” says another voice, soft as an echo, but twice as sharp.

No. Not Maedhros, nor Maglor, though he would have welcomed them no matter how grim the former has become, nor how much the latter is prone to dramatics. Nor Ambarussa, always together, fey and laughing though that too has changed. Nor dark Caranthir, who last Finrod had heard from a succinct letter, had also met with those of the Houses of Men.

Instead, Curufin and Celegorm, as they are called now, stand before him. They are much changed, Finrod realizes, with the first flicker of his own unease.

These are his cousins, and he cannot deny them audience.

And yet-

Finrod is wise, he is the Hewer of Caves, he has walked among Men and learned of their ways, more so than any of his kin except perhaps his eldest cousin in chill Himring. He built this realm as a haven for his people, to keep them safe against the ever-growing dark, and he has bled for them.

He knows now with cold certainty that he will bleed for them again. Finrod knows the snake that lurks in the grass, but he is not so cruel as to kill it when it is simply doing what it must to survive.

(But oh, at what cost? No. He need not ask that. Deep in his soul, he already knows, he hears the bells of mourning toll and tastes the must of the grave on his tongue.)

Especially not when it was their swords that protected his lands from Morgoth, before the Bragollach, when their brothers’ swords still do. Especially not when they are still bound by blood, when he remembers Tyelko as a fey youth in Oromë’s train, and Curvo sharp-tongued and fumbling in turns, cheeks flushed a becoming red when Finrod teased him just so. It was not only Carnistir who deserved the epithet, although Curvo was much harder to provoke.

Perhaps he is soft- certainly, Curvo-as-he-was would mock him for it, and no doubt Curufin-as-he-is will have many a thing to say about it. But he has never encountered a single thing he could not form an opinion of, and those, Finrod are well-used to hearing. No, for the love that he once bore them and the love he bears Curvo still (and so, the love that Curvo bears for his brother), he cannot turn them away.

“Cousins,” Finrod greets them, warm. It is a sharp contrast to Artaresto’s coolness, the cutting edge of his formality. He stands, and tries not to seem too visibly relieved by it.

“Your necklace is the work of the Khazad, in the mountains,” Curufin says, in lieu of any true greeting. His eyes gleam the way they once did in fair Aman, a smith’s gaze, assessing quality and artistry, rather than being lent to cunning and cutting. It is good to see him look this way once more, rather than hollow and lit with the terrible flame of the Oath. His resemblance to his father has only increased, but he is much wearier than Fëanáro ever was.

Finrod does not get to answer before his nephew speaks.

“Kneel,” Artaresto says softly, from next to him. “Before the King of Nargothrond.” Never has Finrod heard his nephew so speak, iron-willed and vicious. But the fall of Minas Tirith to Sauron has changed him, made him more suspicious, and Finrod cannot yet blame him for this. But he still mislikes it. Those are not the marks of kingship. Nor, he thinks, is it the best way of dealing with his cousins. Fëanor’s get are proud and flighty, Tyelko and Curvo more so than most- the former laconic and dangerous, ever the skilled hunter, and the latter has more than earned his father-name. It still aches to think of, at times; Curvo’s admiration of him had been endearing when they were younger, but after the Oath, Finrod had not known whether to shake him or curse him for folly. But his cousins have not been gifted with foresight; that belongs to his father’s line alone.

Still. They kneel, and Finrod inhales sharply, subtly. He had not expected this. The first to do so is little Tyelperinquar, though he is little no longer. He does not look unhappy about it. The second is Tyelkormo, sinking gracefully to a single knee. It is a shockingly traditional Noldorin bow; Finrod wonders at its insolence now. And Curufinwe, second of his name, is third to do so, but his head does not incline more than the barest degree, and there is that fell flame in his eyes once more as his gaze bores into them.

(Once, he knew well the intensity of being at the center of Curvo’s attention, and he had revelled in it. It was like the heat of the flames he used in the forge, white hot. Finrod had watched him there once, in those years of light, when they were young and not yet grown out of their fathers’ shadows. He had seen Fëanor’s favored son handle molten metal with his bare hands as his father did, and shape it to his will. The red-white glow had clung to sweat-slick skin, his hair tied back in working braids not quite suited to a Prince of the Noldor. Finrod had been surprised to find beauty in that intensity, in the cousin who had seen them as naught but foes, even then.)

(Curvo had warmed to him. It had taken a lot of work. The memory glows in his chest, even now. Smiles, coaxed out carefully; touches, when they could be spared; more besides as the thrum of the connection between them deepened, little by little. Finrod did not so much fall, in those days, as he had sauntered vaguely downwards, until he was in the middle of it yet had not even noticed, until they were closer than any other pair, Curvo’s walls slowly lowering around him and Finrod himself growing more than fond of his most prickly cousin.)

(And then.)

(Well.)

(His uncle had quite the temper, and he and Curvo had ever followed in their father’s footsteps.)

(Or, Curvo had. Finrod knows not what his own father must have thought, to see his children refuse to turn back, lured across the ice by the promise of lands of their own. Ambition, he thinks wryly, has always been a Fëanorian trait, not one. But forgiveness, but love over all, even wisdom? That, he thinks, he has learned from his father, though Arafinwë had not embodied it when last they had stood together.)

And how it must cost them, his proud cousins, to kneel before him now.

He wonders if he ought to feel powerful. He doesn’t. He feels uncomfortable, magnified by the fact that none of them (Tyelperinquar excepted) seem to be attempting to mask their displeasure at being made to kneel. Fëanorian pride indeed, he thinks, with a hint of the fondness that lay slumbering inside him in the long years they have not seen each other.

“They did make my necklace,” he answers, belatedly, as a peace offering. “It is called the Nauglamir, one of the finest gifts I have received.” And this is not a statement to offend; anyone who looks upon it would be able to tell the truth.

Perhaps he should have predicted that Curufin would take it personally.

Finrod does not wear the jewellery Curvo had gifted him, all those years ago. He has but a lone ring and two beads for his hair, both of which he had worn across the Ice. The other gifts by his cousin’s hand lie across the sea. He had not thought of it, until now- but there is no doubt that Curufin has noticed what he is and is not adorned with.

But there is no answer, to his words. An offer made and rejected. His nephew bristles at his side, and Finrod lifts a hand to silence him before he can speak.

“I see you’ve taught your kin to heel,” Curufin says, amused and wicked-soft. “Perhaps Tyelko ought to take lessons from you when it comes to that beast of his.”

“Father-,” Tyelpe starts, only to be cut off by his uncle. The tempering influence is clear. Celegorm and Curufin have always been together, antagonists and allies to each other in turn.

“No need for jealousy, brother dear; none other than I could be Huan’s favorite,” comes the retort.

Yet something feels forced about their banter.

“He is welcome to the kennels, if you like,” Finrod breaks in, with smile that is only slightly forced. “For as long as you are here- though you have yet to say your purpose in this visit, and my dear nephew would be greatly soothed to hear it.”

Curufin’s eyes flick to Orodreth, then away. Assessed and dismissed, and his nephew takes it as a slight.

“Yes,” he says. “I am sure he would. Well, O King, it simple. We have come to reunite with those of our folk who came here after the Bragollach; we had thought most would be in Himring with Maedhros, but instead they fled here.”

“And we cannot blame them, for it is grim in those mountains,” Celegorm adds. “Your realm, we hear, has a much warmer welcome.”

Ah.

Finrod feels as if there is an arrow in the distance, notched and waiting, pointing at him. Aimed, ready to be fired.

He cannot deny them, when he has not denied their folk. It is too obvious a slight. And truth be told, he has missed them, he has missed his cousins.

He has missed Curvo.

And there would be two others to assist his nephew, when he is gone on his trips, both of them experienced leaders in their own right.

Yet.

He hesitates. He knows that Curufin sees him hesitate, hears it in the sharp inhale, sees it in the way his nostrils flare.

These are not the cousins he loved. They are leaders, yes, but they are ruthless; they had to be, to hold their lands for so long. Grim Maedhros was made so by his time as a captive, but it had shaped his brothers, too. And there is a hollowness to their fëa, too, something that gnaws and bites. Claws in the dark, hidden, fangs under soft lips.

But have they not always been so?

He finds it difficult to convince himself of it this time.

But they need an answer, he cannot deliberate, and- well. Perhaps there was only ever one answer. He knows what Artaresto would say, yet the decision is his to make, and his alone.

The mistake, is his to make.

A breath, the arrow flies.

Finrod stands before his throne, arms outstretched.

“For the love which I bore you in Aman, for our shared blood-,” and oh, Finrod does not miss the way Tyelkormo must rest a hand on his brother’s arm, nor the way Curufinwe ducks his head in a long-familiar motion, so that the fall of his dark hair hides his expression, -“you may stay.”

“Thank you.” Tyelpe is again the first to speak, and he does his father no favors in this. He looks like his father, yes, but there is much of his mother in him too, and Finrod’s heart twists in his chest. Ah, how they had grown apart. He had not thought that Curvo would have a son, he had not found out until the child was presented for its naming ceremony. Curufinwë Tyelperinquar, third of his father-name, third of dark hair and silver eyes, though his did not burn as his grandfather’s, nor cut like his father’s. Finrod finds himself staring even now, thinking that despite the harshness of Beleriand, he still has a softness to him that Curvo had not in Valinor.

They rise smoothly, Celegorm first, then him, then Curufin.

Steel-silver eyes, bright and hollow as an imploding star, bore into his own.

“Yes. Thank you, O King, for your hospitality.” Curufin’s lips shape the words, tone just shy of disrespect.

You will be the one kneeling tonight, cousin, his expression says.

“I could not deny my cousins,” Finrod demurs instead. “Come, now. I shall show you where most of your people currently dwell- and cousin, if you wish to join me in a hunt tomorrow, there shall be a feast?”

Celegorm’s eyes flicker. “It would be my pleasure, cousin.”

Curufin matches him, stride for stride, as they leave the court, and the hairs at the back of Finrod’s neck rise as Celegorm prowls behind him. Tyelpe is a brush of familiarity behind his uncle, but not one that serves to comfort him.

His chest aches, and he feels blood iron-bitter and foul flood his mouth, and Finrod thinks, ah. There it is.

#tolkien #fanfiction #silmarillion #curufin #finrod #celegorm #tyelpe #nargothrond #tolkien secret santa #tss2020 #my fic #my writing

31 notes · View notes

beingevil · 4 years ago

Text

if there be thorns, Guardian Yang AU

title: if there be thorns

pairing: none here

Rating and warnings: Gen

author’s notes: In honour of a very special day, for Neon’s Guardian Yang AU. You can read it on Ao3 here!

summary: Annerose POV, set largely after Yang goes missing.

wordcount: 1690 words

Even the Kaiser’s palace walls cannot keep the whispers out.

When Reinhard was taken into custody after the attempted assassination, Friedrich kept that knowledge from her, whether out of a misguided sense of kindness, or to keep her sweet and compliant – she did not know, and it made little difference either way.

His court had no such reservations.

It is Benemunde who first springs the knowledge on her like a steel trap, gleefully detailing how Reinhard had been taken away in chains, fighting the guards like a mad dog.

It had taken much to listen with a pleasant, detached interest, to nod and smile, to thank Benemunde for telling her how Reinhard was getting along.

Perhaps if it appeared she did not care, she would be less of a weapon against Reinhard.

There is little enough she can do in the Kaiser’s grasp, but she can do her utmost not to be turned into a weapon against her brother.

Life under her father’s hand had taught her all too well not to show weakness, and here in the Kaiser’s court of vipers she knows she needs every lesson she learned and more.

She finds a quiet joy in Benemunde’s dissatisfaction, knowing she had denied the Marquise her satisfaction, as the other woman storms off, loudly calling her a disgrace.

After all, she learned long ago never to act as if the names hurt her.

So it is now, months away from Reinhard’s arrest, that she recognises the look in Reinhard’s eyes as he descends from the carriage. She has known her brother from the day he was born, she knows his hundred different tells better than anyone else: the haunted circles around his fever-bright eyes, the rigid set of his mouth before he shapes it into a brittle smile for her and everyone watching.

It seems he has dressed today with little care for how he looks. His blue coat seems carelessly rumpled, and the edges of his cuffs appear to have been worried at.

She knows why. His life has been transformed since they last met.

The Kaiser’s walls had not kept those rumours out either.

The cravat around his neck is at odds with his ensemble, its cut a little too old. It must have been cream-coloured, once, but time has turned it off-white and its best days are clearly far behind it.

Her musings on Reinhard’s odd sartorial choices on this day is interrupted by his approach.

She puts her arms around him as he nears her. “I’m sorry,” she whispers into his ear, hidden from the guards by the crook of her arm and the curve of his shoulder. When his arms close convulsively around her, she has never more wished to be able to speak freely to her brother. But they are ever under the gaze of the Kaiser’s men, and both of them know to be careful.

Yang had been good for him, Reinhard’s complaining about his strange ways and fussiness notwithstanding. It had been good fortune that Annerose had learned long ago not to expect for either of them.

She had thought that the savage wildness in Reinhard calmed, however momentarily, during his time with Yang. At their last meeting, she had smiled to herself as her wilful brother poured Yang tea as if he had done it a thousand times, even as he complained to her about how Yang couldn’t do a thing for himself, not even getting up in the morning.

Then Reinhard had reached out and adjusted Yang’s cravat over Yang’s feeble protests – it had gone askew somehow – all the while deploring his choice in clothing and chiding him for not paying heed to Reinhard’s suggestions for suitable palace fashion.

She had liked him, the quiet unassuming man whom court politics had unexpectedly thrust into their lives. She too knows what it is like to be plucked from the world you knew and thrown in the midst of a court where every smile could hide a dagger. She liked that Yang never made it seem like he expected anything of her or Reinhard, not even conversation, for even silence was comfortable around him.

Above all, she appreciated that Yang was a safe pair of hands for her brother. It did not escape her that Reinhard, in his own way, turned towards Yang like a flower to the sun. She had thought it was good that finally, Reinhard had an adult in his life that he could trust.

But Yang is gone now.

And in her brother’s place is a wild creature that looks out at Annerose from behind his fevered blue eyes.

She leads Reinhard to the conservatory, where heliotrope blooms in dreamy violet clouds. Deep magenta fuchsia hang their heavy lantern blossoms from the trellises, vivid petals tumbling down the conservatory walls. Hydrangeas unfurl their storied petals here, and honeysuckle trumpets grace the air with their sweet fragrance.

Over and under it all, the scent of the Kaiser’s prized roses perfume the air. Summer is approaching its peak and so are they, petals of the deepest crimson, the palest pink, the purest white all unfolding to the air.

Reinhard barely seems to notice. He is standing right next to her, but he might as well be a thousand miles away.

In a way, he is.

Never has she more regretted that they cannot speak freely here.

She pours him tea, amber liquid swirling in its gilded cup. He glances once at it and not again, and she knows then who he must be thinking of.

Under the table, she reaches out and takes his hand.

His nails are ragged to the touch, and there are healing scars scattered across the back and sides of his hand, recalling to her the destructive rages he would fly into as a child. How many fragile things already been consigned to his rages?

How much more could he bear before he too would shatter?

He rests his cheek on his hand, the very picture of an indolent, spoiled noble.

“The weather is so very hot recently,” he says. “Sister, I do think that the next two or three weeks would be a perfect time for a sojourn into the mountains. I hear Freuden would be a wonderful place.”

The question is in her eyes as she smiles at him, wondering what game he intends to play this time.

“Did you not summer there last year?” He continues, without waiting for her answer, “If you go, I may join you there too.”

Under the table, his hand tightens almost convulsively on hers.

She laughs gently to give herself time to respond.

“Dear Reinhard, whatever it is you wish, I shall certainly endeavour.”

“Do,” he says, and his fingers once again close, painfully tight, around hers.

She knows for certain then that he has no intention of joining her there.

When he takes his leave from her, he rests her head on her shoulder for a moment, and he is her brother Reinhard once again, running into her arms with skinned knees and bruised knuckles from yet another fight.

But her brother fights different battles now, far beyond the schoolyards of their childhood years.

This time he is wounded with hurts she cannot heal.

She would like to believe that he can draw strength from her presence like this.

She embraces him and strokes his hair gently. Briefly, his shoulders shake as she holds him.

It is all the emotion he allows himself in her presence that day.

“Be well,” she says, reluctantly releasing him.

“Always,” he answers, smiling.

There is a strange fey light burning in his eyes, one she knows too well.

He takes his leave, striding to his carriage without looking back.

Never once has Yang’s name crossed their lips.

She wonders what her brother has become, what new creature birthed in tragedy and resolve now loosed upon Odin, planning his vengeance.

It is then that she remembers where she had last seen the cravat around Reinhard’s neck.

It had been around Yang’s neck.

They had laughed, all three of them together, on that day a lifetime ago.

She sleeps poorly that night. Soon after midnight, she wakes to watch the moon traverse the sky until the dawn greets her weary eyes.

A week later, as Reinhard has asked – no sooner, so as not to arouse suspicion – she seeks the Kaiser’s leave to holiday in the Freuden mountains, away from the summer heat.

The Kaiser grants her request, of course. She asks him for so little, after all.

Here, where mountain ranges cradle her villa, alpine springs feed the lush green gardens and their wildflowers.

Though she has been here before with the Kaiser, the silence feels different this, portentous as it weighs on her shoulders. There is bite in the cool winds as they tug at her skirts and echo through the ravines.

She waits for news, but never expected it to come on wings this swift.

Even guarded in the heart of the mountain fastness, the news reaches her, through the newspapers and the whispers from the villa’s servants.

The capital has been plagued by a sudden rash of unexplained accidents and deaths – odd, for their frequency and occurrence, amongst the mid-ranking military and minor nobles. Stabbed, shot, poisoned – they meet their end through means as varied as their victims.

Annerose is not naïve enough to fail to see Reinhard’s hand in this – the timing, the coincidence, fits all too well.

A mysterious letter arrives at Neue Sanssouci which evidently threatens her safety, the Kaiser has her guard doubled as a result and asks her to be watchful. He has decided she is safer in the mountains than she is in the palace, a decision she knows Reinhard arrived at weeks ago.

Her heart aches for her brother even as she wonders about his purpose – are all these deaths to lay at a dead man’s feet? Yang would never have wanted this for him.

One day a letter from Reinhard arrives, and in its wake, when she returns to the heart of Odin, everything has changed.

#legend of the galactic heroes #ginga eiyuu densetsu #yang wen li #reinhard von lohengramm #annerose von grunewald #my fic

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author-a-holmes · 2 years ago

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I'm currently working on a trilogy called the 'Fey Touched' trilogy.

Book One of the Fey Touched trilogy is called 'Changeling. It follows Lizzy Hail, a fey from the realm of Arbaon, who comes to the mortal realm looking for her mum.

Her mum travelled to the mortal realm a month prior to the start of the book, and vanished. Declared dead by the Court of Arbaon, no one is looking for her, so Lizzy takes it upon her self to find her mum, or at least seek out answers.

But once she arrived in the mortal realm, things aren't as simple as she planned.

Here be vampires.

There is also a prequel novella available for free to my newsletter subscribers, called 'Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?'. It gives the readers a head start on Lizzy's investigation. You can find out why Maddy never returned home long before Lizzy uncovers all the clues!

Book one is currently in editing. Book two is being written. And if I'm exceedingly lucky, Book One will be released early next year ^_^

If you see this, tell me about your book

Whether it's a published book, a wip, or just something you're imagining for now, I want to hear about it! Share some art, too, if you have some!

Tagging a few people who I don't think would mind, but lemme know if you don't want to be tagged in the future! Fyi, to anyone seeing this, you can always tag me <3

@valeriestorm @rosantha-tindall @kittensartswriting

#Reblog #About My Book #Ari Speaks #Arista Speaks #Fey Touched #Fey Touched Trilogy #Writeblr #Writeblr Community #Writing #Writing Community #Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?#WHTMH?#Changeling #Darkling #Changeling Book One #Darkling Book Two #Fey Touched Book Three #OUAFTH #Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday

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strangely-constructed-soul · 6 years ago

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Feysand Soulmate au

I’ve been sitting on this fic for ages and haven’t gotten around to finishing it(I came pretty close, so maybe we’ll see another part or something...

Synopsis:

Everyone knows their soulmate’s biggest secret at the time(Feyre knows her soulmate loves her and Rhys knows his soulmate feels alone)

Credit to r-evolve-art for some au ideas

Rhys sees Feyre’s Soulmate tattoo and she doesn’t see his, but it’s the same; a mountain and three stars on their right wrists. Rhys wears long sleeves to hide his most of the time. Feyre wears a bracelet to hide hers except the one day she doesn’t and the one person that makes her feel understood that she pretends to hate but is actually her closest friend that she kind of has a crush on sees it. Plus he’s her soulmate. And he’s Rhys, so yeah ;).

Part 1/ Part 2

Masterlist

Feyre Archeron had always felt different from her fellow high school students. When Feyre was little, her mother had left her, her sisters, and her father. Her father had become distant, removed, and he spent almost every waking moment(a long time since he rarely slept) at his practice winning cases as a lawyer. Feyre’s sister, Nesta, was always skipping classes at college(she still managed to get good grades though) to do odd jobs to make extra money. Nesta said it was “To get as far away from here as possible one day”. Feyre suspected it was because she didn’t trust people after their mom left and always wanted to be able to run away at the drop of a hat. Feyre’s sister, Elain, decided to forgo college in order to be a fashion designer and had moved to New York immediately upon graduation from high school. Elain still called almost every night and came home every holiday and birthday. With her family always gone and her antisocial tendencies, Feyre was lonely. Until Feyre found out she had a soulmate. Soulmates were extremely rare, but it was still a proven phenomenon that almost everyone believed in. Feyre’s mother had never believed in them because no one in their family had had one for centuries. Nesta had once felt the same way, up until Feyre’s fourteenth birthday. At exactly midnight, Feyre awoke to prickling on her arm. She ran to Nesta’s room and shook her sister awake. The two Archerons sat and watched the midnight blue ink swirl around her skin. The tattoo ended up as a beautiful mountain and stars on her left wrist. After Nesta had fallen back asleep, Feyre saw some writing flash on her palm near the tattoo. It read: I love Feyre Archeron. Her soulmate’s deepest secret. As soon as she read the words, they disappeared. That was the last time Feyre ever truly felt alone.

Junior year had gone mostly as Feyre expected it to go; college prep was a pain and people were so full of themselves. Tamlin kept hitting on her(as if she would ever go out with that prick). The only thing, or person, that made Feyre feel understood was Rhysand. Feyre had been dancing around her feelings for him for weeks. She knew that he probably wouldn’t want to touch her if he knew she had a soulmate. Plus, her soulmate was in love with her, so she didn’t want to hurt them either. For those reasons, Feyre’s best friend, Mor(Rhys’s cousin), was the only one who knew about Feyre’s feelings. It had seemed like a bad idea to tell her at first, but Mor was very trustworthy; she had never spilled one of Feyre’s secrets before.

Feyre was having the epitome of bad days. First, she woke up thirty minutes late and had to run to school. Next, she got hit on by Tamlin, again. Finally, during third period, she realized that in her mad dash out the door to school, she had forgotten to wear her thick metal bracelet. Now, as far as she was concerned, everyone had seen her tattoo. In her haste to cover the tattoo with something, anything(hard to do considering it was almost summer and she was wearing a short sleeved shirt and shorts), she collided face first into a muscled chest, sending her books crashing to the ground. This day, Feyre thought, could not get any worse. As she reached down to pick up her books and locked eyes with the person she bumped into, she realized that the day could, in fact, get much worse.

“I’m so sorry, Darling, let me help you.” Rhys offered with an apologetic smile as he reached down to lift her books. Feyre’s heart sped up as she watched him. When Feyre got to her feet, Rhysand was carrying all of her books.

“I can get those, Rhys.” She said with an unimpressed look. His smile stretched into one of his signature smirks. Here we go, thought Feyre even as her heart skipped a beat at the very attractive annoying smirk.

“Are you sure? I’m happy to help, and I’d hate for you to drop them again.” Rhys was still smirking as he said it, but there was something in his eyes that looked more genuine. It was that look that made her say,

“Fine, you can carry them. Just let me carry the Jane Austen one. I’d hate for you to drop that one.” Feyre imitated his words from earlier. Rhys chuckled. Feyre reached her arm out expectantly.

“Here you go, if I didn’t know any better, I would say-” Rhys stopped. He went utterly still as he took in the arm Feyre had unknowingly exposed. Rhys was speechless.

“What is it?” Feyre breathed out. She subconsciously tucked her arm behind her back. Rhys shook his head in disbelief.

“That’s- that’s not…” Rhys trailed off, eyes wide and still staring at the place where Feyre’s arm had just been. Rhys blinked and squinted at her face for a second before a half smile took place of the flabbergasted expression on his face. “Never mind, let’s just get to class.” He suggested softly. Feyre nodded, and they walked to class together.

In their next class, math, Feyre got all of her class work and homework done in under ten minutes(faster than anyone else). Rhys was done in about fifteen minutes.

“I still don’t know how you get your work done so fast.” Rhys frowned when he saw her completed work.

“Well, some of us have a better understanding of the concepts…” Feyre grinned smugly at him. Rhys smiled back at her. Feyre’s gaze was inexplicably drawn to his lips. She looked away quickly.

“What’s wrong, Feyre Darling?” Rhys looked concerned. His fingers grazed her upper arm for a second and she felt a tingling sensation. The only problem with not being able to go out with Rhys, Feyre thought, was that no one had ever made her feel like he did.

“Oh, it’s nothing, Rhys. Just a bad day.” Feyre brushed off the concern, even though everything was wrong. He didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rhys asked tentatively. Feyre nodded. They talked about Feyre’s bad day and then moved to other topics, eventually settling on an awkward one.

“I honestly can’t even remember the last time I went out with anyone, much less kissed someone.” Rhys admitted. Feyre was shocked.

“You’re kidding. Rhysand Ilta, the most- I mean, you’re so…” Feyre blushed furiously. She mentally slapped herself for almost calling him the most attractive guy in the school.

“The most what?” Rhys smirked and quirked an eyebrow at her.

“It’s just that you’re so charming.” Feyre thought that charming was better than saying outrageously handsome and practically perfect in every way(yes, like Mary Poppins). Rhys blushed a little at that.

“You think so?” He questioned, suddenly a bit timid. From suave to a flushing teenager in a matter of seconds. Feyre playfully rolled her eyes. Rhys nudged her with an elbow. Feyre sucked in a breath at the delicate contact.

“Yes, okay. You’re charming. You’re charming and sweet and funny and attractive and I -“ Feyre stopped herself from saying the damning words that threatened to escape her mouth, I love you so much that it hurts. “I guess I just can’t figure out why you’re still single, that’s all.” Feyre muttered. Rhys sucked in a breath. His eyes were wide and a blush ran from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. The bell rang, stunning the two out of their awkwardness. Feyre and Rhys left class and walked out of the building, for it was the end of the day. Neither said a word for a minute of so, until-

“Feyre, there’s something I have to tell you. I don’t know why I haven’t said anything until now. I know what you’ve said about dating. Cauldron, I know all too well,” Rhys ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “But, Fey, I can’t keep this from you because it’s tearing me apart inside, and I’ve only known for an hour. Feyre, you’re my soulmate.”

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Let me know what you guys think! I’m going to be writing two songfics in the near future(one for Rowaelin and one for Feysand) so stay tuned. :)

#alternate universe #fanfic #love #fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #feysand #FEYSAND #feyre #rhys #rhysand #feysand fanfiction #feyre x rhysand #soulmates #soulmate au #high school au #otp

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msmoonicorn · 6 years ago

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Day 11: the Crew

What does your character think of their crew? Do they get along with all of them or do they want to throw certain people out the airlock?

Feilinlei

Vette – She may as well be Fei’s adopted kid sister. The only reason she’s still a slave is because Fei knows that no one would dare touch the right-hand slave of the Emperor’s Wrath.

Malavai Quinn – Hn. Her treacherous husband. Why does she still love him so much? *sigh* He has been dutiful since learning the error of his ways. Maybe emotions are the sort of thing you don’t just turn on and off.

Jaesa Willsaam – Fei sees a lot of her circumstances in Jaesa. Not because they were in similar places.... but because she knows what it’s like to be moved around like a chess pawn. She can be very protective of both Jaesa and Vette.

Lieutenant Pierce – You know... he’s not as disciplined as Malavai, but he gets the job done. He’s a very simple man with very simple processes.

Broonmark – ...hm. Well. He’s loyal and...passionate? Yeah. That’s it. Not always safe, but it’s not like she can’t handle him.

#SWTOR Character Challenge #SWTOR #Star Wars #Star Wars: the Old Republic #Character Challenge #Challenge #Feilinlei #Sith #Cathar #Sith Warrior #the Emperor's Wrath

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diceprophet · 7 years ago

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D&D 5e Game #7 Notes

Session 7: Chamber of the Eclipse

Last time, we left our chaotic band of six as they found themselves face-to-face with a murderous zin-carla and its sired zombie minions. Link to Previous Session Notes The undead drow declared itself as Dewein’agal, a loyal sword to Matron Mother Kovarra, and planned to add the party’s corpses to his growing army. The moment we resumed, the battle was on!

Part 1: Return to Sender

The aarakocra Cheedit and Kweh took to the heights and unleashed deadly accurate arrows and scorching fireballs upon the undead, respectively. The piercing strikes barely affected the undead (house-ruling from Pathfinder), but their desiccated flesh and tattered armor caught flame easily. Thus they uncovered the properties of zombies and how to counteract their resistances and exploit their weaknesses. Lyra also learned about the ease of igniting the undead, and Lao was forced to put aside his fists and resorted to fighting with a chef’s knife. Gradually, they whittled away at the thrashing corpses until they were no more. The half-orc barbarian Vakgar (surprisingly) held his own in a mostly one-on-one duel with Dewein’agal, and both were reduced to a bloodied state over the course of an intense clash. As Vakgar is within arm’s reach of a glorious victory, a dark shadow emerged and stole away his joy. And by that, I mean that the drow rogue Tebryn entered the fray at the last moment and dealt the slaying blow to the zin-carla, in a hilariously well-timed kill-steal.

As the zin-carla expired, the remaining zombies under his control also perished. During the fight, Tebryn almost lost his cowl, which would’ve revealed to the party his true identity as an Underdark fugitive. Thankfully, none of the players were perceptive enough to notice. But before the wraith perished, a disembodied female voice called out with an accusatory “YOU!” as it viewed through the eyes of its undead servant. Tebryn realized not be a safe as he thought in the coming days. Along with securing the kill, he also haphazardly picked up the defeated wraith’s two-handed greatsword after Vakgar scorned the elvish weapon. “A crossguard? Really? Are drow that afraid of hurting their delicate little fingers?” Upon grasping the handle (OF THE CURSED SWORD, GODDAMMIT), Tebryn felt a surge of cold and necrotic energy enter his body, followed by thoughts of wanton murder and destruction. This will go well.

Part 2: The Secret Tunnel

With all threats neutralized, they could easily explore the dark tower. At the top floor, there was a lighthouse-like chamber containing a heliocentric model of realmspace (i.e. planetary models). The orb representing Sol (i.e the sun) was glowing with radiant energy. Beside the the model, at the center of the room, the party beheld a plaque containing an elvish poem.

What had two faces, but now only shows one? What shines brightest, and is second to none? What’s caught between two, a torn-in half soul? Aligned but apart. Separate, but whole. To touch would be an impossible feat. Under a hole in the sky is where we will meet.

Being savvy players, they easily solved the riddle, and arranged the planets to simulate a solar eclipse (”a hole in the sky”). This action opened up a secret path underground. The party deduced that this is what Dewein’agal was guarding, but was unable to re-enter due to the nature of the sun orb’s radiant energy greatly damaging his zombie-like form. The six took an extended rest before descending into the depths.

The next challenge was a large stone corridor that could seemingly roll over and cast the entire party into a void. The door at the far end of the hallway had an elven-looking statue engraved upon it. At the beginning, both hands were crossed over its chest. But once the mechanism activated, one of the hands uncrossed and presented an open palm, as if expecting something to be placed there. On opposing sides of the entrance, there were two heart-like jewels presented by a pair of elf statues. Vakgar and Lao both took a wild guess as an unseen gear turned with a rhythmic clicking. One at a time, they transferred the two heart jewels to the other side, ultimately giving both hearts to the door sentry. With this successful solution, the party safely entered the deepest level.

Inside the final chamber, they beheld a scenic artificial river on the far end of the room. Above, there was a glass ceiling that showed a wondrous view of the night sky. Along with the beautiful architecture, there were also remnants of a vicious battle, as evident by the charred and shredded corpses strewn across the floor. A path lead even deeper underground, and the tunnel was outlined with countless claw-like marks, indicating the passage of some horrible creature. The party was interested in an Underdark excursion, so they kept searching for more clues of what exactly happened.

Part 3: Forbidden Love

There was an ornate door that displayed the scorched outline of a humanoid. Below the haunting silhouette there was a pile of burned remains amidst fine grey ashes. This person was obliterated by a massive fireball, but not before placing an arcane lock upon a door. Tebryn attempted to outsmart the constantly shifting pins, at great danger to his own personal health. Cheedit searched the dust pile and procured a partially expended Necklace of Fireballs. They realized that this poor soul had detonated their own magic item in a last-ditch, suicidal attempt to protect whatever or whoever was behind the door. After getting fed up with Tebryn’s fumbling and futile attempts to make progress, Cheedit offered using a fireball to destroy the door outright.

Beyond the door, they found a large bed laid with fine cloths. A slain moon elf laid facedown, one hand still holding a curved silver sword, and the other...clutching the hand of a dead drider. Tebryn then realized that this well-decorated (save for the dead bodies) and elaborate chamber wasn't a dungeon; it was a site for a lover's tryst. But it would've taken two people to pass the trapped bridge. A few INT checks later, the party finally understood.

An unnamed drow priestess, through some series of unknown events, had come to love a sun and moon elf. The three met in secret for some time, but their happiness did not last forever. Calamity bubbled up from below as the drow was discovered, captured, and cruelly punished. She was transformed into drider, which broke her physically and spiritually, and unleashed upon her former lovers along with a squad of killers led by the aforementioned zin-carla. In the end, only the latter "survived", but was trapped on the surface. So there he stayed to keep the truth from ever spreading. With Dewein’agal’s death, the party had closed the chapter upon a tragic dance of the sun, moon, and the darkness between them.

Part 4: The Hungry Darkness

After looting the final area, the group prepared to leave the depressing site. But suddenly, a trio of hungry carrion crawlers, drawn up by the commotion, emerged from the Underdark! And this is where we adjourned our session.

WILL THE PARTY SURVIVE TO SEE THE NEXT SUNRISE?! Only the dice know.

Part 5: Dungeon Master’s Closing Thoughts

When I first sat down to design this dungeon for my Storm King's Thunder party, I wanted to keep it simple and direct. Four hours later, the dungeon became the site of a forbidden polycule of a drow, sun elf, and moon elf. I realized that I had completely gone off the rails from sleep deprivation and holidays-induced stress. But I also decided, “Fuck it. I'm just gonna run this shit. 50 Shades of Fey up in this bitch. I'll throw myself upon my own vorpal sword in disgrace after the session completes.”

I’d admit that the end result was some straight-up Korean drama level schlock; melodramatic, cheesy as fuck, and cornier than anything I've ever written.

But apparently, the players enjoyed it. WHEW! So I will count that as a win in our book! As long as we all have fun, it can’t all be bad, right? I can’t wait for the next session, and to continue the adventure with these most excellent players! Farewell for now!

Please check us on out Twitch, and follow for more tabletop skullduggery!

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author-a-holmes · 3 years ago

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I'm gonna take these in reverse order, because once I get started talking about my projects, it can take a few minues for me to shut myself up again ;-)

Other Writeblr's I Would Recommend;

@faelanvance - An exceedingly talented writer. She hold her cards close to her chest in terms of writing snippets or excerpts, but Fae always has an interesting discussion about writing craft and skills and tools ready to go at the drop of a hat. Her current two projects are endlessly fascinating, and I eagerly await any little tidbit she dares she share (Also my IRL best friend, so I had to start with her!)

@queen-kass-the-writer - Not a purely writeblr, also contains a lot of fanfiction, but Kass is an indue author with one book under her belt already, and and it's sequel is upcoming soon (I know the ARC's for book two went out this week, and I'm very excited to dig into reading it this weekend!)

@afoolandathief - "Something Wicked" is an awesome project, containing my favourite fictional vampire of the moment in a clever and endlessly fascinating setting. In addition their blog's full of fun writing bits, and they're friendly and easy to talk to! Met through the Underwing Challenge and I've not regretted it! Love watching their projects evolve.

@artbyeloquent - For art & writing, I've been hard pressed to find anyone's work I enjoy more than Elo's! Their webcomic, Inscribed, is epic, and their art always has these gorgeous little details. I always notice something new when I take a second or third look.

@whispersintheparchment - A newer writeblr, but an impressive work in progress on the go! Whisper's Fantasy Romance has already stolen my heart. While I have a slight advantage in that I share a server with them, and have seen some snippets and worldbuilding that's not nessecarily on Tumblr, this is 100% a project to watch, and Whisper's is one of the sweetest, kindest, people I've met <3

@thelaughingstag - Less a writeblr in and of itself, but a place for Writeblr's to gather and share their work, and progress, and character intro's etc. I've fallen out of practice in tagging them in things, but I really must start doing it again.

Some honorable mentions, since this is already super long and I've only answered one of your bullet points;

@screnwriter @avrablake @ashen-crest @writeblrs-faves @writeblrsupport @inkovert @strangerays @josephinegerardywriter @sleepyowlwrites

Tag Games Welcome?

Yes. Always. Tags Games and Prompt Lists.

I, admittedly, don't always have the time or the spoons to answer tags, but I always always welcome them. I've got drafts saved from tag games people mentioned me in months ago, so I'll always try to at least save them to answer later <3

About My Main Projects and Characters

All book/series titles are linked to my Writeblr introduction where there's more information on each project. I also have taglists for each project, just let me know if you (the person reading this) are interested in being added to any of them...

The Fey Touched Trilogy

New Adult Portal Fantasy Romance. The Fey Touched trilogy is intended to be my debut novel series. So far I've completed the 12k reader magnet, 'Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?' for my newsletter subscribers (once my newsletter is up and running) and I'm working on the main trilogy this year, 'Changeling', 'Darkling', and 'Fey Touched'. In addition, there's a seasonal novella planned for post-series, 'Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday'. My current plans are to self publish this series next year (2023) but if something can go wrong it will go wrong, so that's still a tentative plan right now.

My main characters for the Fey Touched Trilogy Lila Isabelle Hail aka Lizzy Hail, her best friend Booker Reed, who are both from the Fey realm of Arbaon, and their respective romantic interests, Andric Roche and Cara Evelyn, both vampires living in the mortal realm.

A Little Touch of Magic Anthology

I wanted to write a series of short stories focused on magic and witchcraft. That plan has evolved into a series of connected short stories, all focussed around a single main character.

A Little Touch of Magic will follow Lucille Corrobane through 15 short stories, each planned to be less than 3k words, and showing the discovery of her magic, and the secrets her family's coven have hidden from her.

A Grimm Awakening

Urban Fantasy Romance. A stand alone novel, this one was inspired by a tv advert I saw years ago. Krysis is a grimm reaper, bored with her own perpetual existence, until she stumbles over a human on the cusp of becoming a minor deity.

Stolen Stories

Stolen is my baby and the project of my heart. It's the book I started writing in 2019, and finished in 2020, and was originally going to be my first thing published.

As you can tell if you've made it this far, I reworked that idea.

It's an Epic Romantic Fantasy series following thieves and rogues, Stella Korazon and Reilly Mosswolf. While Stella fights to find her place in the world of Moryann, Reilly's busy fighting to defend his guild from an enemy encroaching on their territory. Neither of them are looking to fall in love along the way.

Stolen was originally planned as a stand alone novel. Then I realised I had too much plot for one book so made it a trilogy. Then @faelanvance looked at my outline and told me it felt unfinished, and that I should consider a 4th book. When I reworked the plot a final time, I've ended up with six books. Book one is around 145k words, and I don't anticipate the sequels being any smaller, so this series is going to be... glorious!

So since I’m trying to get back into writing again, and I’ve just realized how out of the loop I am on Writeblr while trying (and failing) to figure out who to tag in that tag game!

Writeblrs! Reblog this and tell me:

•A little about your main wip(s) and /or characters. If you want and you have one, you can just send me your wip intro, or you can thpe out a big long rant about it, or you can just type a couple of sentences. Whatever works for you!

•Whether or not you like to be tagged in tag games

•Any other writeblrs you would recommend if you can think of any!! I’m specifically looking for people who write fantasy and romance, and I sometimes like interesting science fiction stuff too!!

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canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 7 years ago

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on the 4th day of 🎄, canyousevmyheavydirtysoul gave to you...

Snow with Fall Out Boy.

Note: I (and my prompt fairy) ran out of ideas after the first three so that’s why Pete’s is lowkey shitty. I’m sorry. x

Patrick:

A few strands of hair blew into Patrick’s face as he huffed in exasperation after dodging yet another flying snowball, courtesy of his bandmates.

“Guys! Really!” he shook his head, throwing his hands up to visualise his annoyance, “Keep those things away from me!”

The other three showed no notice of acknowledgment of their friend’s irritation, and continued on in their quest to hurl snow at each other.

“Idiots,” Patrick mumbled under his breath as he turned around and picked up his guitar, gently plucking out the melody that was forming in his head.

Patrick was able to work blissfully uninterrupted for a solid three and a quarter minutes – until a snowball struck him mid-back.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he stood for a moment before carefully setting the guitar back in its case. “Honestly,” he growled under his breath, gathering a small pile of snow on the ground before taking it into his hands and shaping it into a ball.

With a growl, he spun around and indignantly threw the ball of ice in the direction of the other three with all his might – in order to do maximum damage.

His aim was horribly off, unfortunately, and instead of hitting one of Pete, Joe or Andy, it ended up hitting you. Right in the face. Hard.

You fell to the ground with a yelp, the coffee you were holding in your hand flying off to the side.

Gasps of horror escaped the mouths of all four guys, and they broke out in a sprint towards you, with Patrick right in front.

“Holy smokes,” he groaned, partly because he’d hit an innocent bystander in the face with a powerful snowball, but mostly because said bystander was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, “Oh, lord. I’m so, so sorry. It wasn’t meant for you, I swear!”

You chuckled softly as you brushed the remaining ice off of yourself. Patrick’s hands were hovering close to you as if to help, but they didn’t move. He’d already physically assaulted you; he didn’t want you to think he was sexually harassing you too.

“It’s okay,” you smiled genuinely, which made him relax, “I’m sure millions of girls are waiting for the day when Patrick Stump throws a snowball at their face.”

He giggled shyly. “Well, Patrick Stump is sincerely sorry and would like to make it up to you somehow. Maybe by buying you a cup of coffee to make up for the one I destroyed. W-would that be okay?”

You pouted slightly as your shoulders slumped. “I’d love to, but I was actually on my way to a meeting before…ya know,” you gestured all around, “So I’m afraid I can’t right now.”

“Oh,” Patrick nodded dejectedly.

“But,” you started, smiling when he perked up, “I am free for the rest of the day, so why don’t you give me your number? I could call you after my meeting and we could meet up?”

“Yeah!” he beamed, clumsily fumbling around for a pen so that he could scribble his number onto your hand.

His hands were shaking so much, he wasn’t even sure how he managed to write the digits in a way that was even remotely legible. But he coped, and you smiled broadly at each other when he was done. He helped you up from the ground and you neatened yourself up.

“I’ll call you,” you chimed with one final smile before walking off with a wave.

Patrick watched you disappear down the path with a content sigh as Joe sidled up next to him, clamping a firm hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“She’s not gonna call you.”

Joe:

“Pete?”

“Mm?”

“Where is my boyfriend?”

The bassist shrugged as he continued munching away at the assortment of holiday snacks you had set out. “How should I know?”

“Maybe because the last time I saw him, he was with you and now I can’t find him?”

“I dknt knnw,” he said through a mouthful of popcorn, prompting you to harshly grab the bowl from his grasp, “FEY! I vas eafing ‘hat!”

“Where is Joe?”

Pete rolled his eyes so far back in his head that you were momentarily concerned that they wouldn’t roll back, and groaned loudly. “Fiinnnneee. I buried him in the backyard,” he stated simply, reaching forward for the bowl again and clicking his tongue at you when you held it further away.

“You what?”

“I buried him in the backyard. What, did I not say it loud enough the first time?” he quizzed before leaning forward so that he was close to your ear, “ARE YOU LOSING YOUR HEARING, OLD LADY?”

A smack to the right side of the face was effective in regaining the distance between the two of you. (“Son of a bitch, you hit like a motherfucker.”)

“Peter, why the fuck would you bury Joe in the backyard?!”

“Because I said I will bury him in the snow, then he said ha, no I won’t, then I said oh yeah wanna bet, then he said yeah, and then-“

“You two are the stupidest people I have ever met.”

“Tell that to my back account, (Y/N), mmmmmmmmmm,” he sassed, grinning stupidly at you as he spun around in the barstool.

Crossly slamming the bowl down onto the island, you clenched your fists and shut your eyes, taking a moment to calm down before turning and going to get a shovel.

“You see, Pete? This is exactly why I’ll never, ever, let you be our baby’s godfather,” you yelled out before yanking open the sliding door and storming out.

Pete’s jaw dropped open and the pieces of popcorn he had in there fell out. “Hey! I’d be an amazing godfather!” he called as he heard the door close. “I’d be a great godfather,” he nodded to himself.

When you stepped outside, the first thing you noticed was the huge pile of snow – well, it was more of an avalanche, really – that undoubtedly held your boyfriend in it’s confines.

“How the hell did Pete manage all of this snow?” you muttered to yourself as you trudged through the thick ice.

Once you got to the pile, you raised the shovel and began gently discarding the top layers, trying not to be too harsh for fear of accidently striking Joe; although, you considered hitting him on purpose as punishment for allowing Pete to do this.

After about five minutes and lots of effort, you saw Joe’s face starting to peek out. Luckily, he had lots of layers on; else he probably would’ve passed out and gotten hypothermia. When you caught sight of each other, you sighed condescendingly and shook your head, while he just smirked at you.

“Hey girl, wanna hiber-mate?”

“You’re not funny,” you hissed, still working on getting rid of the rest of the snow.

“Do you wanna see my snowballs?”

“Seriously. Not funny.”

“There’s a cold front coming… but I’m gonna keep your front warm.”

“So instead of trying to find a way out, you used all that time to think of cheesy pick-up lines instead?”

“I bet that puddle isn’t the only thing that’s wet right now.”

You stopped shovelling and turned to glare at him.

“Say one more. I dare you.”

“The snow is blowing. How about you?” Joe smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at you, but upon noticing what you were doing now, his cockiness vanished and was soon replaced with fear. “No, no, (Y/N)! I’m sorry! I’m sor- HMPH,” a pile of snow being shovelled back onto his face cut him off.

Andy:

“Woah there, sunshine,” Andy scoffed as he just about managed to grab the shopping bag that was falling from your grasp before it hit the floor, “What’s all this?” he chuckled, following you to the sofa, where you dumped the rest of the bags.

“I’ve never been in the snow before,” you huffed, swatting your hair out of your face, “I want to be prepared.”

“Okay,” he nodded, smiling at you before raising his eyebrows at all the things you had gone out and bought, “but as someone who has been in the snow before, I can tell you that you don’t need this many pairs of gloves and scarves.”

“Alright, alright, I mighta got a little carried away-“

“A little?” he chuckled, holding up the five new sweaters you had bought. (Gerard is triggered.)

Shyly, you reached out and grabbed the clothing, turning away from Andy in embarrassment.

“Aw, no, sunshine,” he cooed through a short laugh as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your neck and making you giggle, “It’s okay. I think it’s adorable how excited you are.”

“I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire life,” you sighed dreamily, leaning back into his chest.

“It’s gonna be great. We can build snowmen, make snow angels, have snowball fights…you’re gonna love it.”

“(Y/N), sunshine, I’m home,” Andy called out, treading through the house. “Where are you?” he muttered to himself as he searched for you in every room, eventually finding you in the library, huddled into the window seat.

“Hey,” he whispered as he approached you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he knelt beside you, gently rubbing your back, “what’s wrong?”

“Did you see the weather report for this week?” you said softly, barely audible.

“No,” he frowned, “why?”

You held out your phone to him, and he glanced at the screen, eyebrows rising once he saw the forecast. “Clear skies,” he mumbled.

“No chance of snow.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine,” he pulled you closer to him.

“It’s okay, it’s not like you can control it,” you chuckled, “I know it’s dumb to be so upset about it, but it’s just that… I’ve wanted to see snow ever since I was little. I used to sit and watch videos of white Christmases for hours.”

“I know,” he muttered into your hair.

“But I guess there’s always next year,” you sighed.

You morbidly made your way up the snowless front path and front porch, biting your lip as you unlocked the front door and walked inside.

“Andy, I-“

You lost all speaking ability as you took in the sight in front of you. All of the furniture had been moved out, and in its place was…

“Snow,” you scoffed incredulously as you reached out to touch the little pieces floating in the air.

Loads of it. It was covering every exposed surface. As you scanned the room again, you could see that there were also various trees and other ornaments, along with strings of fairy lights; it truly looked like a Winter Wonderland.

“I know it’s not exactly what you were expecting, but,” Andy said as he walked towards you, holding out one of the sweaters you had bought; he was wearing one too, “it’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Andy,” you croaked, your voice shaky as you tried to choke back the tears that were forming, “This is… it’s perfect. Thank you,” you gushed, rushing into his arms as a few stray tears spilled over, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, sunshine,” he beamed, kissing you. When you both pulled away, he turned up the setting on the snow machine to high before dragging you further into the snow. “Hey, (Y/N). Do you wanna build a snowman?”

Pete:

“Out of all your dumb ideas, this has to be the dumbest.”

“And why is that?” Pete chided as he set down the equipment he was carrying, a small Bronx treading close behind him in a coat so big, it practically swallowed the little munchkin up whole.

“Because in case it wasn’t clear enough in the past, I have a very sucky equilibrium,” you breathed, holding out your glove-covered hands and gesturing at the skis laying in the snow, “so I have no idea how you expect me to be able to use those.”

“It’s really not that bad, doll,” Pete half-chuckled as he started toward you with the safety gear, which you reluctantly allowed him to attach to your body.

“I’m sure it is. I can’t even keep my body upright on the best of days, so this has disaster written all over it.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N)! I’ll catch you if you fall,” Bronx exclaimed proudly, tilting his head up to look at you from under the enormous hood of his coat.

“My hero,” you giggled, reaching down and pinching his cheeks affectionately.

“Alright, doll,” Pete said, earning a worrisome expression from you and causing him to peck your lips and rub your back soothingly, “It’s fine. I’ll hold you the entire time, okay?” You nodded. “Good. Okay, set your foot here, and the other one here… that’s it. Great, you’re doing great. Alright, now – slowly – take the pole from my hands. Slowly. (Y/N), I said slowly. Listen!”

“Don’t get all bossy with me,” you clicked your tongue at him, glaring at him from top to bottom, “The only reason I’m even attempting this is for you.”

“So you’d rather fall on your face? Exactly what you’re afraid of doing?” You ran your tongue over your teeth and he smirked triumphantly. “That’s what I thought. Now, make sure you keep a firm grip on those poles; I’m gonna move behind you.”

Once Pete moved to your back, he reached forward and placed his hands steadily around your waist.

“Okay, now, slowly start moving. Use the poles to anchor yourself and then glide the skis along.”

You did as you were told, carefully lifting up the poles and setting them a little bit ahead of you in the snow, before cautiously shuffling forward.

Naturally, you slipped.

Bronx gasped aloud and rushed forward to grab you, while you let out a shout.

“Pete!”

“Hey, it’s okay, doll. I’ve got you,” he shushed, hands still holding you firmly.

“Psh. No, you don’t! I’m the one who caught her,” Bronx argued, frowning at his father; his tiny hands were tightly clamped around the edges of your jacket.

“Right,” Pete nodded, stifling a laugh, “Sorry, bud. (Y/N), don’t worry, Bronx has got you.”

The little human beamed proudly at you, and you bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetie. What would I do without you?”

“Can I get a kiss too?”

“No,” you and Bronx said in unison, looking to each other and sharing a giggle after.

“Why not?” Pete scoffed, staring at both of you, highly offended.

“Because you’re not the one who caught me, are you?”

“Yeah, dad,” Bronx added, “Get better reflexes. Gosh.”

The two of you shared another little giggle as Pete looked on, feeling very attacked yet also super fortunate that he was blessed with such beautiful humans in his life.

He was still sour over the fact that he didn’t get a kiss though.

You seemed to pick up on his sourness, however, and leant back a bit to whisper to him.

“Don’t worry. You get all the kisses tonight.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

#christmas #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley #fob #fall out boy #band members #band member imagine #imagine #imagines #fanfic #preferences #patrick stump x reader #pete wentz x reader #joe trohman x reader #andy hurley x reader

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author-a-holmes · 3 years ago

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Writeblr Introduction 2023

Updated: 29th of January 2024

First of all, let's get the 'hello's' out of the way! My name is Ari! I'm a fiction writer in her thirties based in the South-East of England.

I live with my mother and my cat, and spend my days wandering through the fantasy worlds that I've created, and drinking copious amounts of coffee.

While Tumblr is my primary social media platform I'm also on Instagram, Facebook, and Tiktok amongst others. If you'd like to follow me on any of those platforms, you can find links to my profiles via my website; www.aristaholmes.weebly.com

I also have a newsletter you can subscribe to! I send out bi-monthly updates, one around the 15th-17th of the month, including sneak peeks or behind the scenes snippets of my projects, and a second newsletter around the end of the month containing an exclusive piece of Flash Fiction.

If you'd like to be the first to know about ARC opportunities, see my cover reveals, or hear about sale prices on my books, then signing up to my newsletter is the way to go.

For the moment, my newsletter is also the only place you can get your hands on "Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?" the short prequel to my Fey Touched Trilogy.

To sign up for my Newsletter, please click HERE.

My current list of projects can be found below the cut. If you'd like to be added to my general tag list just comment on this post, if you're interested in a specific project the best way to be kept up to date is to follow the dedicated side-blog.

Each of the dedicated side blogs will contain all project specific content, either posted there directly or reblogged there from here. Dedicated side blogs will contain world building notes, prompt fills, tag games containing project content, and/or snippet shares.

General Tag List:

@/faelanvance @/noirepersonal @/queen-kass-the-writer @/athenswrites @/thelaughingstag @/authorminamoroz @/bardic-tales @/outpost51

@/talesfromaurea (No gore or torture)

Tags: #wipnook #Laughingstag

Fey Touched Trilogy;

Prequel - Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail? (Exclusive to my Newsletter Subscribers)

Book One - Changeling (Available for Purchase Now)

Book Two - Darkling (Due for Release 2024)

Book Three - Fey Touched

Seasonal Special - Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday

The Fey Touched Trilogy is a New Adult Portal/Contemporary Fantasy and my debut series. Book One, Changeling, was published on March 16th 2023 as a birthday present to my mum, and the second book, Darkling, is expected to be published in 2024.

Tag List: @/jezifster @/ettawritesnstudies

Changeling Blurb

A stand alone novel, 'Faith of the Grim' is an Urban Fantasy that will follow the story of Krysis, a grim reaper who seeks an end to the monotony of her eternal life.

When she stumbled across a paramedic who can catch the souls of his patients and revive them from the brink of death, her curiosity over finding something new and interesting could lead her to stumble into more trouble than she can handle.

Anticipated release date;

Tag List: Empty

2025 Project

Stolen Stories;

Prequel - The Lost Mosswolf

Book One - Stolen

Book Two - Takeover

Book Three - Origin

Book Four - Loyalty

Book Five - Unnamed

Book Six - Unnamed

Stolen is the project of my heart. Book one's first draft is currently complete and sitting at around 140k words and I anticipate the subsequent books to be of equal size.

Stolen is a Romantic Fantasy series that follows the main character, Stella Korazon, as she fights to find her place in the ever turbulent world of Moryann.

Anticipated Release; 20276-2029, two books a year.

Tag List:

@/josephinegerardywriter , @/strangerays , @/whispersintheparchment ,

Stolen Book One Blurb

It had been a long couple of weeks for Stella Korazon.

When a simple pickpocket job goes horribly wrong and sends her entire life spinning into chaos, Stella must figure out how to navigate the treacherous world of Moryann alone.

Finding herself in the City of Antillune Stella is quickly pulled into the middle of a brewing war between two thieves guilds when a recruiter for the guild known as Vine coerces her into stealing from their rival, Guild Master Mosswolf.

Surrounded on all side by rogues, liars, spies and betrayal, it's a constant struggle to know who she should trust, but standing in the heart of it all, can she find somewhere, or someone, to call home?

2027-2029 Project

*UNDER CONSTRUCTION:* I'm still in the worldbuilding phase for this project.

Chronicles of Verald Stories;

Prequel

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four

Book Five

Book Six

Book Seven

Book Eight

Book Nine

Potentially Book Ten (?) Dependant on Outline Completion.

2029 Project

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phynxrizng · 7 years ago

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8 WAYS TO CELEBRATE LUGHNASSA/LAMMAS

Source, Pagan ChannelBlogsMore ChannelsPublic SquarePolitics BluePolitics RedBook ClubReligion Library HomePagan ChannelRaise the Horns

Source, Raise the Horns

8 Ways to Celebrate Lughnassa/Lammas July 26, 2017

Source, by Jason Mankey

No matter what you call it, the first harvest festival of the year is nearly upon us. While not always the best loved of the sabbats, it’s still a fine holiday with many ways to celebrate. What follows below are some of my favorite and most tried-and-true ways of paying homage to the Wheel of the Year in late July/early August. May the First Fruits of the harvest be a joyful time for you and yours.

(Many Pagans call this sabbat Lughnassa, or a variation of that word-Lugnasa/Lughnasa/Lughnasadh-and Lughnassa was most certainly an Irish-Celtic holiday much like Samhain or Beltane. Lammas is the Christian name of a similar festival that occurred at the same time of year. Lammas may have also been an ancient pagan holiday celebrated by the Anglo-Saxons, or not. I don’t think it matters what you call it.)

Bake Bread

For me there is no better way to celebrate this time of year than by baking bread. The original Lammas celebration was tied directly to the first grains of the harvest with Lammas essentially translating as “Loaf Mass.” Though Lammas essentially became a Christian holiday, the people who were celebrating it seven hundred years ago did so in a very agrarian, pagan sort of way so don’t let that bother you. (And besides, Lammas may have been an Anglo-Saxon holiday before it was a Christian one, or perhaps an Anglo-Saxon appropriation of the Irish-Celtic Lughnassa.)

When we think of baking bread we often think of stoves and indoor baking, but the best bread this time of year is Bannock Bread, which can be easily baked in a campfire. If you are celebrating with friends Bannock Bread can even be roasted on a stick and cooked like a campfire marshmallow! It’s also super-easy to make and only requires a handful of ingredients.

John Barleybeer

From now until Samhain is also the season of John Barleycorn, who I often think of as John Barleybeer. Back in the 1960’s and 70’s it was popular to think of John Barleycorn as an ancient pagan tune, and the song as the story of the sacrificial god of the harvest.

While the song isn’t quite that old (the first written version of it appeared in 1568) and is a bit more tongue-in-cheek than a lamentation on a dying deity, it still strongly resonates in Modern Pagan circles.

I’ve seen lots of rituals over the years built around the song, and even if that’s not where you want to go simply using a little beer for the ceremony of cakes and ale is an appropriate homage.

Don’t like beer? I’m personally allergic to something in it, but Scotch Whisky also uses barley as a primary ingredient, and Scotch is sometimes known as the “water of life.”

Protection Ritual

The first grains of the harvest were once used as a form of protection. Families would rise at dawn on Lammas and gather the first ripe corn they found in their fields. After returning home they would grind the grain, boil it in a sheep’s stomach, and then bake it.

The baked bread was then scattered around the house as a deterrent against evil forces.

While this was essentially a Christian tradition, British Christians of the late Middle Ages often practiced their religious rites in much the same way as their pagan ancestors.

Besides, this could be one of those traditions that predates the Christianization of the British Isles, and we can also use a little extra protection now and again!

First Harvest

My backyard garden is starting to beer bear fruit, which means harvest season is truly upon us. It’s easy enough to simply go out into a backyard garden and pluck a cherry tomato off the vine, but it’s far more satisfying to turn that first harvest into a real ceremony.

Instead of casually picking the fruits of your labors out of the garden, get out your boline or athame and thank the gods, the Earth, the elements, and whatever else you hold dear, as you gather up the early harvest.

When you’re done stop and leave a gift for the fey or the spirits of the land you inhabit, they’ll appreciate it!

Don’t have a garden? Nothing to worry about, a trip to your local Farmer’s Market will also suffice here. And don’t worry, nearly every community has a thriving Farmer’s Market this type of year, just do some digging (garden pun!) and I bet you find one near by.

My first harvest was actually last month when I picked an jalapeno. Now my tomatoes are nearly ready!

Visit the County Fair

This is a little trickier than everything else on this list, and will depend on your local community, but in the Middle Ages Lammas was associated with more than just bread.

It was a time for fairs, the payment of rents, elections, and the opening of public lands. So visiting a local county fair or even a craft and art event truly harkens to the spirit of long-ago Lammas celebrations.

It’s easy to forget too that the sabbats are more than just a date, in many ways they are a season. If there’s something you can visit in the middle of August I think that still counts as a bit of a Lammas celebration.

When I was growing up in Tennessee our county fair was at the end of August just before school started, but when I look back on it now with its agricultural competitions and coming together of community it reminds me of Lammas.

Take a Walk

Sometimes the most satisfying way to celebrate the turning of the Wheel is the simplest, and there are few things more simple (and more pleasurable!) than an evening stroll.

Walking often sounds like a passive activity but it doesn’t have to be, especially this time of year. While you’re out truly look at the world around you. What’s blooming?

What’s dead? What exactly is making you sneeze? Is the breeze warm or cool?

The hills around me are dead, their grasses a burnt light brown, but many of the trees in my neighborhood are flowering, and there’s citrus fruit on many of them. Here in Northern California we’ve had an unseasonably warm Summer after a wetter-than-normal Spring.

Observing how the land around me has reacted to these two extremes had drawn me closer to it.

Corn Dollies

One of my most cherished Lughnassa memories involves me and three friends in a small clearing between fields and fields of corn (maize).

We didn’t do a proper ritual that night, but we did march into those rows of corn to pick a few heads off of them to make our own corn dollies. It was all a spur of the moment thing so we didn’t make very good corn dollies, but that doesn’t really matter. Making those dollies simply felt good, and put us in touch with the Wheel of the Year.

While I used American-corn any type of grain makes for a good corn dolly. Wheat is probably the most traditional since the tradition started in the United Kingdom. And you don’t have to visit a corn field at night to do this either. It’s a craft that can be done with corn from the grocery store and around the kitchen table with the kids or in the circle with the coven.

Celebrate Lugh

The Celtic god Lugh was known as a god of “many skills” and the historian Ronald Hutton has categorized him the “the patron of all human skills” which means he can be celebrated in all sorts of different ways.

As a warrior deity athletic contests are a suitable way to show him some respect, but because he has such a varied skill-set just about anything we do this time of year might be seen as a way to celebrate Lugh.

Lugh has often been connected to the sun due to his name commonly being translated as “bright” or “shining” beginning in the 19th Century (today there are a couple of other interpretations).

That makes him a good god to invoke when thanking the sun for the first harvest. Even if you don’t build your Lughnassa ritual around Lugh, you might still want to share one of his stories or at least thank him for lending his name to your celebration.

SOURCE, PATHEOS PAGAN/RAISE THE HORNS BLOG/JASON MANKEY

REPOSTTED BY, PHYNXRIZNG

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fey-touched-trilogy · 3 years ago

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Fey Touched Stories;

Prequel - Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail? (Newsletter Exclusive; Sign Up Here)

Book One - Changeling (Available In All Formats Now!)

Book Two - Darkling

Book Three - Fey Touched

Seasonal Special - Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday

The Fey Touched Trilogy is a Portal Fantasy and planned to be my debut novel series. Book One, Changeling, was published on March 16th 2023 as a birthday present to my mum, and the second book, Darkling, is also expected to be published later in 2023.

My Newsletter is up and running! Sign up HERE if you'd like to download and read the series prequel, 'Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail?' and keep up to date on my publishing journey.

Keep reading beneath the Read More for currently revealed blurbs & covers...

Whatever Happened to Madeline Hail?

When she is inevitably outnumbered and overpowered, making an unthinkable bargain might be the only way to save her life, but being alive doesn't mean she's safe.

'Whatever Happened To Madeline Hail?' is Newsletter Exclusive: Sign Up Here

Changeling

Available In All Formats Now!

WARNING: READING FURTHER YOU MAY ENCOUNTER SPOILERS

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK

Darkling

Fey go missing in the mortal realm. This time, it’s intentional.

Blurb Reveal Pending

Fey Touched

Fey go missing in the mortal realm. Everyone is about to find out why.

Blurb Reveal Pending

Seasonal Special: Once Upon A Fey Touched Holiday

Blurb Reveal Pending

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daenerysvan · 7 years ago

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The Potable Water Problem and the Tin Mine - Day 7

After a very peaceful night and a departing goodbye to Pauline this morning, my first mission was to find some potable, as in drinkable, water! I had topped up my water the day before at a service station where the water from the water/ air machine was free. When I had come to sample that water later on, I discovered it had a horrible, rubbery taste which made it totally unpalatable. Fortunately, I am 'emergency woman' and I carry several litres of bottled water in the event of a water emergency and this was one! I kind of like it when 'problems' present themselves. Being in a campervan is like a real life crystal maze! Anyway, first stop this morning was to Morrison's to buy enough bottled water to keep me alive for a few more days until I can get back and drain and refill my tank with minimal faffing.

Mission accomplished, it was off to Zennor via a brief trip to the Healeys Cornish Cyder farm where one bottle was promptly purchased.

The reason for my trip to Zennor was to say hello to the mermaid bench. I felt this was important because I've seen real mermaids here, in Cornwall, about 38 or so years ago. I was on a family holiday at Pentwen Sands near Mevagissey. I distinctly recall seeing two mermaids and two mermen sitting on the ruined wall of the fisherman's cottage which is in a little cove just around the headland from the campsite. They were singing and playing musical instruments.

Now I'm not one for randomly hallucinating this stuff but it's a firm childhood memory for me and I'm convinced I saw something. As I've got older, I now think that I was perhaps aware of water elementals, the undines, upon which, my child-like mind interpreted and viewed them as mermaids.

After Zennor, I visited the ancient village of Chysauster where I purchased a lovely Celtic dragon windows sticker for the D. Soon I will have so many stickers and things on her, I won't be able to see our the windows! Lol

Next stop was Men An Tol and the Boskednan stone circle. Men An Tol is highly unusual with its holed stone.

Whilst Men an Tol was quickly found, trying to follow the footpath from there, to Boskednan was more problematic. Spot the footpath and spot all the spiky scratchy gorse I had to wade through!

I got to Boskednan in the end. Here's a picture of a stone in its nearby cairn.

Once back at the van I started off for Tregeseal stone circle but got sidetracked on the way by Geevor Tin Mine.

I felt I really should visit a Cornish tin mine as I had visited a slate and a copper mine whilst I was in Wales.

The Greevor Tin Mine is an attraction very well done. Unlike any other mine I've been too, it really focused on the people who did the job in more modern times, up until this mine closed around 30 years ago.

I really liked all the machinery in the old Mill and it was easy to imagine the noise and work going on there back then.

The tin mine you actually get to go down is not really very exciting. It's a very old mine and is above sea level. Most of the other, worked mines, of which there was a vast network, are now flooded as they were below sea level.

Its definitely worth a visit though as the human interest story and also the tales of the Mills cat really for a personal touch and thus it somehow becomes more accessible to you, the visitor.

I spent the night near Cape Cornwall and the Ballowall Barrow (AKA Carn Gluze) with another stunning sea view!

I went clambering all around the ‘Cape’. There is a lovely little hidden cove called Priests Cove where the water spirits had been hard at work:

Oddly, I caught the end of a programme on BBC Radio Cornwall which was about the growing hobby of ‘stone stacking’ I think they should just let the water fey do them as they do such a good job!

I've been doing so much, all the days are starting to blur together. I feel like I'm creating several months of memories this week!

I've also had two realisations. Firstly, Daenerys and I have seen both Lands End and John O Groats in the space of three months.

Secondly, this is almost certainly the longest I've ever been without having a full-on shower. I've realised that if I was doing this permanently, a periodic trip to a campsite with a washing machine would have a higher priority than one with showers. At least in the Summer!

Now for a gratuitous Daenerys picture taken at our Wild Camp spot overlooking Cape Cornwall and Lands End.

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