#foalin

[maxbytes]

did i tell you about the time i would write full novels about winged wolves, chapter by chapter, in an e-mail specifically for my friend to read and no one else? i want to read them again so bad but i can't recover them bc they're on my old yahoo account, and i forgot my old password. it was probably something like luvzanimals1 or someshit. that is so sad.

[magarark]

Foalin' Around Posepack

Details:

5 poses (Sim, Foal & Horse)

X Please do not claim as yours or re-upload!! Download Here

[wearwolf27]

Moving back into traditional for awhile Imma have to translate my skills back into pen and paper. Here's some lil doodles of my OC Foalin, angy wolfer, and some hyenas!

[chaoticstrata]

"Would you let me take care of this for you?" - whoever you've thought of most recently among your ocs

So this is WIP of sort, although was 100% started because of this ask. lol My GW2 pair has been on my mind recently, even though I'm pretty certain no one else cares for them--either that or the fanfic community for GW2 is very small. In any case, here's what I've written so far!

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A frustrated sigh escaped Rhetton’s lips when his lover batted his hands away from the armor piece he was trying to remove. Those same hands then took over, carefully peeling the gauntlet off. “Canach, I can undress myself…” the former commander trailed off when amethyst eyes glared daggers at him. Wincing, he turned his head away, knowing full well the look was warranted…. ...because he once again ran off head-first into danger, causing the older man to worry over his safety.

It really didn’t help that he had nearly gotten himself cut in two by an enraged Ascended chasing after the refugees trying to flee. Rhetton had stepped in to help but was injured in the process. He could clearly remember the panicked look on Canach’s face--even from under that helmet of his--as an Agent named Kossian dragged him back to the Order of Secret’s outpost where his friends were. Thankfully, he had sustained only minor injuries--just a couple of bruises and scrapes…and the rather long and bleeding slash across his chest. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to hide the blatantly obvious injury from his partner. Not that it would have been a secret long, especially with Canach dead set on looking him over.  The older sylvari had practically thrown Rhetton over his shoulder to get him to a healer--much to the amusement of the man already helping him. While Rhetton found the action endearing, he knew he scared the shit out of the warrior…again. “Would you just…” Canach started to say, pulling the engineer’s attention back before he shook his head and sighed. “Never mind.” “No, Nach, don’t ‘never mind’ me,” Rhetton said, stopping the warrior’s hands from peeling him out of his sylvarin armor. He held them and squeezed lightly. “Talk to me.” A long silence followed before Canach sighed again, leaning in to press his forehead against Rhetton’s chest. “Would you just let me take care of this for you?” he asked quietly. “I’m aware I’d never be able to stop you from stepping into danger. You’re too much of a good person to just stand aside and do nothing--especially when you know you can help. All I ask is when you do, at least allow me to take care of you in the aftermath.” Rhetton could not keep the smile from his face, even if he wanted to. Pulling the older man closer, he wrapped him up in his arms and hugged him tightly. “I can do that…although you may need to remind me some days,” he chuckled softly, “I do tend to have an issue knowing when to rest.” The soft laughter that left Canach was deep and rich. “Yes, dearheart, I am well aware of that issue of yours.” Rhetton scrunched his nose at the endearment. “I take it dearheart is not to your liking?” the warrior grinned. “It is not…heard Foalin call Caithe that far too much,” Rhetton replied, “It’s rather ruined for me.” “Hmm, understandable,” Canach said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, “I’ll work on coming up with something else.”

[helluvaoutlaw]

Striker settled into his chair, piling his plate high as he glanced over at the twins with a grin. He chuckled before taking a bite of his food, savoring the flavors.

"Damn good as always, darlin’. Don’t know how you do it."

He leaned back a little, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Work went alright. Virgil and Flint got most of the feedin’ done, so I focused on checkin’ the mares. You’re right—they’re real close now. Could be any day, honestly. I’d bet on one of ‘em foalin’ by the end of the week."

He scooped up another forkful, chewing thoughtfully before continuing.

"I already gave the vet a heads-up. Figured I’d rather have her on standby than have somethin’ go sideways. Don’t reckon she’ll need to stop by tonight, though—everything looked fine when I checked."

Striker glanced at Coronis, his expression softening.

"I’ll keep a close eye on ‘em, don’t you worry. Got this ranch runnin’ smooth thanks to you, anyway. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the boss."

He smirked playfully, raising his glass to her in mock toast.

@helluvaoutlaw

With Sinsmas only two weeks away, Coronis had been excited to set up the family for their first Sinsmas together.

She was still mindful of finances. Even with a good savings pocket and regular income, now buoyed by her able to sell her small-batch alcohol products, she was careful to set a clear budget for gifts. For herself at least. Striker had his own money, and would likely spent it as he wished. But where the household and farm was concerned, Coronis was very cautious not to overshoot.

However, there was a good first sign. She had sold four crates to the local saloon, and three to the grocery in town to sell behind the counter. The grocery had sold out, and the saloon had turned down multiple offers to buy bottles full out, citing the need to save them for their mixed drinks and shots.

Coronis had a waiting list of locals wanting bottles for their shelves, and double the amount being brewed for next time.

So that meant there was money for an extra special Sinsmas meal, presents, and a holiday bonus for Virgil and Flint. Though she wasn't sure if they were going to be staying with family for the holidays, she trusted her husband to catch up on all the necessary work with the horses before they left.

At the very least, it was a warmer Sinsmas. Holidays back home would be frigid...because Andrealphus would host in his ice palace and Coronis would near freeze as winter was laid atop the already frozen household. In fact, it never dropped below fifty degrees, at worst. Nighttime was colder of course, but not by much.

Walker and Match were crawling. Their tails seemed to be getting more agile along with their little legs and arms too. As Coronis sat with them on the rug in the living room, making a few last details on handmade hat for Burt (the inner brim lined with an iron plate to protect him from...mole people, she thinks?), she watched them work out their little bodies. Their tails liked to grab on to things, and Match was quite insistent on trying to drag as many toys with him as possible, twining his tail and grunting as he tried to manage the weight.

Walker was still...slow to start. His tail was hugging his little stuffed crow tightly, but he only scooted in short bursts, and seemed more fascinated watching his twin brother go at it with endless energy.

[chikndoodle]

Da sky iz foalin !

[losthoneycomic]

yep, that’s dad. no foalin’.

memory: 3 page: 206

… read Lost Honey here: www.losthoney.com

… start at the beginning here: 1st page

… mobile-friendly mirror / archive: https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/lost-honey/list?title_no=239845

[dumb-hat]

How Do You Need To Be Loved?

(Really regretting not grabbing any screen shots while I had the Namazu horse quest today. Dang.)

Evander slumped onto the stool, resulting in a miserable and vaguely man-shaped heap, barely suitable for even this seedy dive. The bartender, a massive man even by Roegadyn standards nodded at him, his bobbling, fluttering mustache betraying more emotion than the fathomless blue eyes that gave him both his name—Vast Sea—and his reputation—an earnest and interested, if unemotive listener. Wordlessly, he poured hungover Hyur his usual cure: a dram of whiskey.

“Nooo,” Evander wailed plaintively, his face flat against the bar top.

“No?” Vast snorted in response.

“No. I’m done with whiskey. Done.”

“You’re done with whiskey.” The Roegadyn echoed Evander, clearly doubtful of the man’s resolve.

“Done forever,” Evander groaned into the wooden counter.

“Done forever,” Vast Sea repeated. He was already pouring a measure of gin into a fresh glass, though he kept the whiskey on standby. Just in case.

“Done ‘til tomorrow, anyway.” Evander’s face broke into a stupid grin as the gin glass clinked down next to him, accompanied by a small slip of paper and an almost comically thick pencil, barely usable by Midlander hands.”What the hell is this?”

“Fill it out.”

“Is it going to help?” He made a show of pulling himself up weakly into something that sort of resembled a sitting posture, if you kind of squinted and were feeling generous about how you defined things like “posture”.

“Hells if I know, you idiot. Other people have been filling them out and it’s seemed to lift their spirits.” The Roegadyn snorted again and walked away while Evander began filling out quiz.

Recklessly, like a horse running as fast as he can

You've been told that the way you love can never last, and that heartbreak is inevitable. But you don't want to love carefully. You want to love with reckless abandon. You want to love with everything you have, and you want to be loved the same way. You don't want them to worry about tomorrow. Make today worth living for.

“Horses.” Evander crinkles his nose at the test results. “Why did it have to be horses?”

Down the bar, Vast Sea snorted again, this time the gesture carried a deep undertow of amusement.

Evander stared at the gin and sighed. “Vast, I was wrong. I’m done being done with whiskey.”

The Roegadyn fought every mortal urge not to break into a wide grin. “Evander, I don’t want no foalin’ around. You’re gonna pony up for both drinks, you hear me?”

Evander squinted.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ll never keep this place financially stable if you keep saddling me with that nightmarish tab.” Vast Sea made a straight face.

“I hate you.”

Tagged by: @thefreelanceangel​

Tagging: Anyone who hasn’t done it yet and feels like it!

[elishamanning]

@borussia_en: Foalin' around

[intherainbowfactory]

Loving Me Despite My Changes (1)

“Bye Bon Bon! Thank you!”

“Goodbye.”

The final customer for the day, a blue earth pony with a black bowl cut, heads out of the shop with their paper bag of sweets. I sigh. Finally, I can close up shop already! All through the day I had bags in my eyes and sleep mocking me mercilessly just beyond my eyelids to the point of being curt with other ponies.

A grin begins to split my face from ear to ear while I recover from earlier. What was up with the sudden influx of late-night sweet-toothed ponies? I mean, just about anypony with a normal sleep schedule would get a stummy ache from eating candy before dinner. Heh. “Stummy ache”. Pinkie’s bubbly character must be doing something to me, making me think more like her… the horror! 

On the other hoof, that “stummy ache” thought might be from the influence of my dorky marefriend, Lyra… double the horror!

I kid, I kid, I giggle, I snort, I do a little foalin’. I finish my closing tasks with zeal, the better to get back to our house and partake in the romantic candlelit dinner that I’m almost certain Lyra has prepared for me. Say what you want about that lazy pony, but she makes every day special for me, and that’s why I love her! 

Now how can I outdo her…? 

Somehow finding myself in the kitchen, I found my answer. What if I were to bake some of her favorite red velvet cupcakes for her? There are still closing tasks to be done in the kitchen, dishes to wash, goods to properly seal and put away, and I work at them a bit slower while I try to process this alien scheme. They wouldn’t notice, surely. They don’t need those little bits of ingredients I would use. They’d even probably let me, as nice as they are. The cupcakes would make Lyra feel special, while their ingredients wouldn’t make the Cakes feel any more special, and, as an aside, I personally don’t care for the Cakes as much as I care about my marefriend. Bon Bon’s pace slowed to a crawl as she took a small unopened bag of all-purpose flour in hoof.

I put it where it was supposed to go. No, I couldn’t possibly. I couldn’t just betray their trust. This is coming from a bad part of my personality, one I can acknowledge and tell to shove off. I won’t prove my mother right.

I picked up the cake mix. If I didn’t make the cupcakes… how would Lyra know how much I love her? For that matter, how would I know that I love her?

I’m cantering by the sink, taking a look at my neutral reflection in the darkening window. 

I see myself. I’m repugnant, a social disease. Living here, in this peaceful town of Ponyville, just plain shouldn’t have been in the cards for someone like me. My face in the window is imbued with a disgusting aura of possession, my eyes green with envy as I watch the real residents of the town go about their real business for the evening. My eyes track on to Rarity Belle, an odd character for a rustic village such as Ponyville, but one with easily the greatest wealth and influence among the other towns while still not being too powerful, like the Princess of Friendship, Twilight Sparkle, was. 

She seems to have stopped beside a house, not the Carousel Boutique. What could Lyra accomplish with all of Rarity’s assets…?

I stop myself, and put the cake mix back.

Stopping again at the large pile of dishes in the sink that I’ll need to sanitize, I take another glance through the delightful candy-sheen windows and see the paradise stretched out before me.

I see Bon Bon. She’s just another colorful pony in the background, though still one who belongs as a part of the community. Her gaze is filled with respectful appraisal, understanding, and above all, empathy. Her head turns for just a moment in the window before appearing on another window to my left. Bon Bon’s good friend Rarity Belle is walking past her and is clearly heading towards the front entrance of Sugarcube Corner. She knows a lot about Rarity. Bon Bon knows that while Rarity would give anypony her own leg for a good cause, Rarity wouldn’t give a moment’s hesitation before getting the pegasi guards to imprison anybody conspiring to steal her possessions.

There was a knock on the front door. I decide to ignore it and turn back to the sink to do some dishwashing.

In the twilight of the window, I see a face flushed with shame.

[an: thought I'd do something lighter(?) and more refined on my birthday, just bcause.]

[dissidiacloudstrife]

i dont normally rp kadel, buuuutt

kadel even before HoT happened was slowly inching away from the main court with foalin. he never believed the Nightmare was always about pain, bc for him, Nightmare took away his pain. it gave him a way to survive during his most tragic parts of his life.

he was a baron of blood, and with his status, used this to sneak non nightmare people out, and gave nightmare people who wanted to stay but not cruel, a safe space.

WITH ALL THAT SAID

once twilight arbor collapsed, and even more so when scarlet took it over. kadel moved his group of courtiers to the Dreamdark Enclave (the other jp by morgans spiral) and used that hidden area to keep them safe. most of his group were people who just wanted to go home back to the grove, and courtiers who wanted to be left alone. he was already trying to broker with wardens for safety of those who wanted to go to the grove.

but once HoT happens, it was a lot of fear and confusion, even for them so far away from maguuma jungle proper.

it was horrible, but also good for kadel bc post HoT, he’s able to get more people to where they want to be, no questions asked because of how mordrem are. kadel’s group actually helped relief to mordrem turned sylvari, if they didnt feel at home in the grove anymore, but soundless was quite right either.

he wasnt trying to really push for his version of nightmare to these people, he really just wanted to help, but it did bolster who believed in a non-cruel nightmare. he also met duchess Chrysanthea at this time, and while he was worried, she seemed...amicable, and thats left him to lead his group how he sees fit. hes even gotten more courtiers from the jungle because of them being sent from her.

kadel wasnt anywhere near the jungle, but the pain he hears from these people just makes him wish he was there to help those who could have suppressed the call with Nightmare.

but yeah! kadel is trying his best to organize this now big group of courtiers, or others who were rejected/people are scared of them still.

he wont ever got back to twilight arbor tho lmao. for now hes looking for a permanent place back in caldeon.

Hey other nmc rpers, what does post-HoT court look like for your characters?

[guildwarsstartrekskyrim]

Get ready!

I’ve been sitting down writing a few opinion pieces on Guild Wars 2.  All of them on paper, so I’ll actually have to transcribe my messy writing onto the computer.  But I’ve got a few of them in mind and may put them up here at some point.  Here’s a short list.

Foalin vs. Palawa Joko: Why Foalin is a better villain than Joko can ever hope to be

Guild Wars 2 has a death problem

Missing Story Arcs: Where’s Malyk?

The Olmakhan are getting a bad rap and they shouldn’t

Let’s elevate the Inquest beyond Saturday morning cartoon villain, please

And several others that I’m thinking of.

Stay tuned!

[plutomeetsgenius]

Girl Meets Magic Part 1 (Revised)

Hi Liz! It’s me Luna Rose. You are a tough critic but I appreciate that. Here is my new version of Girl Meets Magic (Part 1). I’d still love feedback as it’s my first fanfic ever, and it can be as negative or positive as you wish as long as it’s constructive. Also there will be a lot more magic, POC characters and gay stuff coming up

Premise:  Riley and Maya’s brush with a magical device sends them to 1920’s New York where Riley and Maya find themselves trapped in the bodies of Lenora Matchinski and Summer Hart respectively. Lenora is a journalist documenting the rising tensions between Wizards and No Majes and Summer is a Jazz Singer who loves to attend wild parties. Will Riley and Maya be able to find a way home or will they lose themselves to the conflicts of the past?

Word Count: 1921 Words

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

          When she closes her eyes she feels an orchestra of noises wash over her. To her left the grating sounds of screeching wheels, and car horns. To her right the thud of footsteps on the pavement, and hurried chattering. When she opens her eyes all she can see are tall buildings, flashing billboards and streams of people and cars rushing by. It was easy to get lost here among the music of the city. Luckily she had her best friend to keep her focused.

        “Riley, you’re doing it again,” Maya nudges her gently.

         “Am I?” “Seriously, why are you smiling?” Maya asks.

         “How can I not? I love today. Today is even better than yesterday. And yesterday was the best day ever!”

           Maya shakes her head and smiles. Her friend truly is a ray of sunshine. Maya and Riley continue walking until Maya stops in front of a storefront. The storefront is a dark mossy green color, and there is barely any light coming from the interior. It reminds Riley of a haunted house.

        “Is that-” Riley can’t finish her sentence.

         “Yes,” Maya cuts her off. “But is it-” Riley begins again.

         “Yup.”

          “Noo, I’m not going over there. It’s dark and scary over there. Lots can go wrong over there. The only thing that can go wrong over here is if I go over there.”

         “Oooh, I’m the haunted storefront and I want to eat you alive ooooh” Maya moans, doing her best ghost impression as she tickles Riley. Riley laughs but she’s still unsure about the storefront. The door creaks open on rusted hinges, and Maya swiftly pulls Riley through. It takes Riley a second to get adjusted to her new surroundings. Riley is startled by how still everything around her seems to be. She walks among the antiques, a rusted sewing machine, a broken lamp, and a dusty cloche and she wonders if they have been sitting there for a hundred years. In the dull glow of the amber overhead lamps, everything loses its color.

         “Isn’t this great?” Maya smiles, running her fingers around the mouth of a gramophone. Riley nods, although the musty smell of the shop is making her sick. She slumps down on a velvet ottoman, and looks listlessly at the floor. Beneath her feet a strange necklace twinkles. At the center of the necklace is an hourglass filled with crushed amethyst dust. Around the hourglass is a series of gold rings. A golden chain is attached to the outermost ring. Everything around her is so worn, so lived in, but the necklace looks like it was made that very day. Riley reaches over to touch it, and promptly receives a painful shock.

         “MAYA!” Riley screams. “WHAT?” Maya mimics Riley’s tone.

          “This necklace just shocked me.” Maya looks at the necklace, her blue eyes lighting up in anticipation.

         “It’s so pretty though. I think you should take it home,” retorts Maya, picking up the necklace. “It matches the overalls you are wearing perfectly. Besides,” Maya smiles knowing Riley’s weakness “Isn’t purple your favorite color?”

         “Doesn’t matter,” Riley replies firmly crossing her arms in defiance.

         “Try it on,” urges Maya.

         “NO.” Riley pushes Maya back and she tumbles into a rack of dusty books. The purple hourglass shatters on the floor between them. Riley and Maya are blinded by a bright light.

         “Are you alright?” Riley looks up to find herself on a crowded subway train. She is surrounded by men and women dressed in heavy overcoats and hats. She finds the source of the voice to be a similarly disheveled young woman with wild blonde curls and a mink overcoat. On the floor between them is the necklace. The hourglass center is shattered and amethyst dust is leaking out over the train floor. Riley feels her heart racing, the words barely escape her throat.

         “What happened?” she asks.

          “Riley, it’s me Maya,” The woman whispers in Riley’s ear. “It seems we have traveled back to the 1920’s. I found this paper in my purse.” Maya open the newspaper. “March 27, 1926,” Maya reads the front cover, since Riley can barely speak. “Violence Against Wizards and Witches on the Rise, an article by Lenora Matchinski.” Next to the name is a photo of a young woman, probably in her early twenties. Her dark hair is tied back into a low bun, and she stares at the camera defiantly. “That’s you,” whispers Maya. Riley shakes her head. It can’t be her. This whole situation is impossible. “No, that’s literally who you are right now. You’ve occupied her body.” Riley feels herself starting to collapse but the woman who claims she is really Maya holds her steady. “Hey don’t worry,” Maya smiles “It’s going to be fun. It’s like playing a role in a play. Remember when you played Juliet in our seventh grade production of Romeo and Juliet?” Riley nods. “Well it will be just like that, minus Farkle’s sloppy kissing of course.” This elicits a giggle from Riley. “Just try to become Lenora Matchinski, the greatest reporter the world has ever seen.” Maya lowers her voice “Don’t worry it’ll be temporary. We’re going to find a way to fix that necklace.”

         “I don’t want to touch that thing ever again,” Riley whispers.

          “You won’t have to, just keep it in your bag okay.” Maya picks up the necklace and slips it into the handbag Riley is holding. Riley can’t help but smile again. Even in the strangest of situations, her best friend exudes a confidence that Riley can’t help but admire.

         “So where are we going next?”

         “You’ll see,” Maya smiles mysteriously.

          “I need to know.”

          “Maybe this headline will give you a clue?”

          “Summer Hart to perform at the Bradbury Speakeasy,” Riley reads aloud. Next to the interview is a picture of a young woman with wild blonde curls wearing a black beaded sheath. Riley looks back and forth from the picture to the woman next to her, sure enough they are identical.

          “Approaching Prince Street,” announces the conductor.

          “This is my stop!” exclaims Summer.

          “How do you know?” asks Riley skeptically.

         “I can access Summer’s memories. Her memories are telling me the Bradbury Speakeasy is a block away and she has to perform tonight. What do you say, Lenora, are you coming or staying?”

          Half an hour later Riley is sitting at one of the bar stools of the Bradbury Speakeasy. Once again Riley is surrounded by a symphony of noises. The tinkling of champagne glasses, the click of dance shoes, the shuffle of stools, the burst of a saxophone, and of course the dulcet tones of Summer Hart. “Remember you’re the best reporter the city has ever seen,” she whispers to herself.

        “Excuse me, Ma’am” says a young man seated to her right “Are ya talkin tuh yourself?” comes a male voice saturated in southern twang. The owner of the voice is handsome, with tan skin and bright green eyes. A large brown overcoat is draped over his shoulders, and a cowboy boots adorn his feet.

        “Hi-Hi,” she stutters her face breaking into a giant grin. “I’m Ri- I mean Lenora. I’m Lenora Matchinski.”

        “Ma name’s uh Lewis Fyre. It’s uh plea-suh to meet ya, Miss Lenora,” the man kisses her hand. Riley can feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. “Ya know Miss Lenora, dis is my first time in New York City. I’m headin’ off tuh veterinary school in uh few days.” Riley nods but can’t trust herself to say anything. “ah’ve only been he-ah for uh few days, but ah already miss ma pets back at home.”

        “Pets?” muses Riley, hypnotized by Lewis’s beautiful green eyes.

         “Ah have 24 horses. One day af-tuh school, Sofia was foalin.”

         “That means giving birth?” Riley asks, leaning in.

          “Not bad, city girl,” he grins, pulling her and her handbag closer. “And dere wuz no one dere, so ah called up the local doc-tuh, Dr. Galendo and he talked me through it. So ah delivered dis beautiful palomino, and the doc-tuh heard ‘bout it, and he said ah should go tuh veterinary school when ah get olda. So dat’s what I’m gonna do.”

          “It’s amazing that you’re following your dreams,” smiles Riley.

          “Ya know it’d also be ma dream to give ya a kiss. Whad’ya think ‘bout that, Miss Lenora?”

           “I-I,” Riley stammers.

           “Dey say in New York City any-thang is possible,” he cajoles her. He has a boyish sweetness in his eyes that Riley can’t resist

          “Okay!“ Riley grins.

        “Close ya eyes Lenora,” Lewis practically sings. Riley puckers up. She can practically feel his breath on her face. However, instead of feeling the pressure of his lips, she feels a sharp yank on her bag. Riley opens her eyes to see Lewis running away, handbag in hand. Without thinking, Riley charges after him. She doesn’t know much about her surroundings but she knows that fixing the necklace in the handbag is her only way home. She rushes out the door of the speakeasy and into the busy streets.               “Give me back my bag!” she screams at Lewis Fyre, but he only increases his pace. The cold rain obscures her view, but doesn’t dampen her determination. She feels her feet pounding on the cobblestone street, the warmth of the amber lamps illuminating her path. Everyone else blurs into the surroundings. Lewis ducks into an alleyway and Riley follows close behind. The alleyway reeks of damp sewage and is littered with obstacles. It doesn’t matter to Riley: she can feel herself closing in. She keeps sprinting, she can practically touch the tails of his brown overcoat. The puddles mask the unevenness of the cobblestones and before she knows it, Riley feels herself falling to the ground. The impact shakes her to her very core. She can taste the blood in her mouth and her brain is going foggy. Before she blacks out she hears the words “Stupefy.” She feels herself waking up slowly. Riley can start to hear a conversation.

        “Do you think she’ll remember anything?” asks a male voice that Riley could only describe as sounding like a river, deep and thoughtful.

         “Of course not. Did you see how long it took for us to heal that head wound?” came an older male voice that sounded gruff like a crackling fire.

         “Why do you think she had a time turner in her bag?”

         “Fabian,” The older man chastises “I told you to retrieve the bag, not examine all the contents.”

         “I was curious,” Fabian sighs dejectedly. “You always are, Fabian. Let’s drop her off here, at the Bradbury Speakeasy. She’s regaining consciousness and we don’t want to be around when she wakes up.”

         “But she’s Lenora Matchinski, always says she’s on the wizards’ side!” Fabian retorts.

         “She does, Fabian, but many people she fraternizes with don’t feel that way. Let’s go.”

          Riley wakes up outside the doors of the Bradbury Speakeasy. To her left is a very anxious Summer Hart.

          “What happened to you, Lenora? One second I saw you flirting with a cowboy and the next you were running out into the rain!”

           “He stole the bag with the necklace in it,” Riley answers plainly.

           “Well did you get it back?” Riley nods, showing Summer the bag. “Good. We’ll fix the necklace in the morning. I promise,” Summer gives Riley a hug.

           “C’mon Lenora, I’ve accessed that Summer’s apartment is only a short walk from here, we should get some rest.”

           “You have got to teach me how to access memories,” demands Riley.

            “Tomorrow, Lenora, Tomorrow.”

_________________________________

Ok, first thing’s first, the prose in the beginning is much improved, and the details that you added (dialogue, scenery, characterization) make this much more convincing.

I’m not quite sure where you’re going with this, so I don’t know how to critique your plot, because to me, it seems like there are a lot of places to go with that.

The only big issue that I can see is the logical gap where Maya can magically access the memories of the person she’s inhabiting, but Riley can’t. It would be one thing if the moment the station was called out Maya got a flash of the familiar station and said that it was their stop and when asked why couldn’t come up with an answer, but she knows that she’s accessing memories very easily, and if Maya really is a muggle with no training, that seems very unlikely.

Other than that, the only thing I worry about is the names. If Maya is occupying a contemporary ancestor, is Riley doing the same? Also, I see what you were trying to do with Lewis Fyre, but I think you can tone it down a little bit with the Lucas allusions. Maybe just make him faintly like Lucas, enough to draw Riley in, but not nearly enough to be that glaring. And most people don’t go around with last names like ‘Fyre’. People can have normal sounding names and it won’t do anything to hurt your story, while having outlandishly fantastic names might.

Other than that, keep up with the writing and let me know how it goes!

To anyone else: I do beta and feel free to send me anything you’d like me to look at.

[hotkidstoy]

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