Aiden looked up from the fireplace to the sound of his son. The young dragon was peeking around the wall of their small cabin, watching his father with wide eyes. The older dragon gulped-- he knew this conversation would be coming. The atmosphere in the house had been so tense recently, of course it wouldn't go unnoticed by the child. With a heavy sigh, Aiden patted the wooden stool next to him. "Come." He spoke gently.
It was dark and outside they could hear the crickets chirping. Everything in the house was quiet and pitch black, save for the crackling fireplace or the creaking of wood. Wilbur glanced behind him down the hallway he stood in, and spoke up with a trembling voice. "Uhm…." He glanced at his father's helmet and flinched at the bright eyes illuminated underneath of it. Aiden, subconsciously, touched a claw to his head. The crown of bones that covered his face was dark and callous. Yet… it was against tradition to take it off, he mused, and so it stayed. Aiden figured it would serve to make the hatchling more resilient in the long run, with some encouragement. Especially right now. He shook his head and once again gently patted the stool. Willbur, hesitant, skittered forwards and clambered up next to the larger dragon.
Leaning down, Aiden nuzzled his small sons head, eliciting a giggle from the child. "Now, what has you up at this hour?"
Wilbur looked away, digging his claws into the wood. The fire light shone on his face and one could see the gears turning in his head. Aiden waited patiently. It didn't take much to know what this was about. Yet not even a minute passed when the small dragon looked up at him. "Where did brother and sister go?" His voice dripped with curiosity.
But that question smacked the other right in the face. A lump fell in Aiden's stomach. Flashbacks of that conniving snake-blooded lieutenant flew through his mind-- he grit his teeth. His body language didn't go unnoticed by Wilbur, the spark in his eyes vanishing, and his nerves started to spike. "Papa? What happened to them?"
No words could express the grief in his eyes, nor could he explain it with any. Tears blurred his vision, hiding him from seeing the horrified look on his son's face from what he said next.
Only two words fell from his mouth.
The Sentinels of Downroe
Arisen from ashes came The Sentinels of Downroe. A once glorious empire revered for their strong warriors, bards, forgesmiths, and diverse traditions. Their kind was widespread across the Ashfall Wastes in ancient days. Their sharp wit-- and claws-- made the empire one of the front lines for battle in the war against the other flights. Vast territories were filled with Downroe Banescales, with sentinel towers lining every border, and cities that would make even the Lightweaver blush. For a long time they lived in peace. Celebrating their festivals, playing songs, and decorating their city with the most colorful of tapestries, with many none the wiser to what happened outside their massive iron walls. Yet it couldn't last forever, and when the land ruptured in the great reform, many were lost deep in the earth. Others were fossilized underground, forgotten from the world like the many others of their kind. Those that survived were just a few members from the lower council and some of their finest guards. Until the awakening.
After the Bounty shook the earth and ancients started rising, so too did they. Not only did Banescales hatch from long forgotten eggs, but many-- like Downroe-- rose from the ashes the Flamecaller left behind. Waking with such power and anger they started to ravage the land. However, their ancient magic was no match for modern weaponry.
The new council of Downroe gathered and forged their plan. From the earthen depths, their spellcasters brought forth ancient scrolls from the dawn of dragonkind. Ones that the Flamecaller thought she had burned every last trace of. This powerful magick, passed down through generations of elder ancients, was magick to be of use even now. The council of Downroe agreed they would draw back and wait until everything calmed, and then their plan would begin. Soon the Banescales had quelled their fire and most settled into new, comfortable lives. A wary peace once again fell over Sornieth.
In the dead of night came their opening. Eris-- the High Warlord-- ordered their militia to descend upon the scarred wastes-- their target a large, ancient grove blooming near the Wyrmwound. Their scouts confirmed it days back. The clan living there was sick, starving, and weak. No amount of magic or lush territory could change it. The land awoke at their assault. It fought back-- to the surprise of the army-- but even the very living earth was no match for their determined forces and old magick. Beaten, the clan of Runach surrendered, and was spared. The council came forward and offered them a choice. Join their cause as equals, or work under them to serve the spread of their new empire. Some dragons agreed wholeheartedly. Others, while nervous, caved and agreed. Many stayed defiant and refused to take the breed changing magic. But, they agreed to stay and work, not wishing to upset the ones they used to call family. Agreeing to meet halfway, the Banescales kept their new ranks heavily guarded in camps, and begun to build their city.
Walls and forts were built over the course of many moons. More and more Banescales came to them for shelter, and joined their cause as helping hands. Alchemists, tailors, botanists, divers, and more. Now armed with a plethora of new occupations in their ranks the empire grew. Soon the entirety of the ancient grove was surrounded by their walls, hidden from eyes. Three circular walls, to be exact. The innermost circle was reserved for anyone in the lower council or above. The second ring, reserved for the army and subsequent workers, such as the scientists. On the outermost ring lived the citizens and Downroe's non-banescale recruits. Stationed on the outer walls are the sentinel's, on watch for any danger. The empire is named after them for their bravery on the front lines of defense.
They set to work cultivating the grove and using it for research. All the while teaching others about their old traditions in hopes to celebrate them again. Their new forgesmiths began crafting, and updating their old plans. Whilst their generals trained new warriors, witches, bards, and various other ranks for their army. What was left of the Runach clan was sent to the outer ring of Downroe to live among the citizens. They were granted permission to open their own cafe to cope with their new way of life, on the condition they'd be advertising to make the empire seem friendly to wandering dragons, and the agreement that a guard would be routinely checking in on them. Occasionally the Banescales themselves hang out there with them.
The Sentinels of Downroe continue to grow their assets even now, wishing to regain their lost treasure and land. Eris, believing herself to be the most capable warrior of them all, elected herself as acting empress to see this end goal through, and is willing to tear apart anyone that stands in the way of sending her people to greatness.
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In the midst of a forgotten battlefield. Woken from the depths of the earth in a spectacular display, having wrought havoc on the unmarked graves that stirred their spirit. They burst forth-- the inky black mist exploded and screamed over the howling wind. From the earth, bones cascaded around their spirit, and made them whole again. The bone thief with a new skeleton. Taking on the name Tola, they wandered across the wastes for lost souls to bring to their final resting place. A murder of crows rests on their wings at every moment, and they are very protective of their flock.
The magickal scent of the Oasis lured them to the dragons that resided there. They struck a deal with the leader: Tola would offer protection and easy disposal of dragons they didn't want, as long as they were continuously fed. The leader, while wary, agreed. Nobody knows quite where Tola takes the dragons they are given, but they are never seen again. Occasionally they return with new leather additions to their cloak, or new bones to add to their skeleton. Some speculate the dragons go to the Plaguebringer, some speculate they go straight into the Wyrmwound, or that they're eaten by Tola themselves. One thing is for sure however, their reputation as a wraith and a grim reaper has spread across the wasteland. Those that know the tales of these creatures know not to disturb Tola when they're spotted. Instead, they just let Tola pass, with the clouded spirits of their army making their final trip.
Tola isn't known to talk much. Brave dragons who try to strike up conversation get few words in response. The wind always picks up around the reaper, and no matter what way they are looking it's common to feel watched.
When the clan of Runach was taken over and rebuilt into Downroe, not much changed in Tola's deal. They easily changed their form-- much to the awe of the new leaders-- and brought up the deal. The council agreed whole-heartedly, and spoke of how war would be much simpler, to Tola's delight. Them and their crows are fed more often now. But even the council keeps their distance, knowing that Tola is powerful, and not quite a dragon, despite the form they take.
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High Warlord of Downroe. Eris is the leader of the ancient council, and the acting monarch of the empire. Cold and calculating, she has a strong aura that even the most war hardened veterans have come to respect. Her stone gaze is only fractured during business negotiations, which she handles with an unnerving glee. Even when angered she acquits herself with a terrifying calmness. One can feel the seethe leaking through her scales, hungering, and targeted with a purpose.
Taking great pride in her work and what she does, she typically does not stay in her fortress, like many others in the council. Instead preferring to work and walk among the other Banescales. She travels with her assistant and scribe Pluto, who she makes sure writes down all notes on daily happenings, important affairs, and the like. She prides herself and her empire on efficiency. Nothing is left unchecked in her leadership. After all, when preparing for war to feed a rapidly growing city capital, one mustn't have any mistakes.
She does however have a bit of a coy side, and you'll occasionally find her poking fun at her workers, or scaring the non-banescales. Humor isn't lost on her-- although her preference is darker, but she quite enjoys light-hearted jokes. Puns especially. They are of great annoyance to her, but also to others, and she enjoys making her co-workers cringe on a good day. Just be sure not to anger her, and all is well in the Empire.
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In the midst of the city plaza you may see him. Flute in hand, he'll play a melodious song that seems to charm the spirits of everyone around him. Cheers ring out as he waves and dances, laughter escaping him. Out of nowhere he'll pull out his guitar, strumming the sound of his ancestors. Clearly, Vinum is no stranger to music. He is a bard of the highest order, learning the ancient melodies of the past, and playing it for all to hear.
For all to hear.
His songs are more then just performance pieces. Those who have seen him prepare Downroe's armies know, his songs have seen bloodshed. In combat he is just as flashy as he is on stage, preferring to catch the attention of his adversaries before his lullabies block out all of their other senses. It is a poison. A poison that will completely dismantle the minds of anyone he chooses, for a short time, or indefinitely. Who knows his the crowds he gathers are truly genuine? With just a spark of intent, he can manipulate one into doing his every bidding as long as his bells toll. He is the General. Taking orders directly from Eris and the High Council. Whispers float of how he runs things with an iron fist-- and just a bit of flair. He prefers to ignore the paperwork side of things. If he must, however, then whoever is on the receiving end may find themselves covered in glitter. The camps he runs are adorned in ribbons and festive decoration, traditional of old Downroe. He takes pride in making sure such things are not forgotten.
Much like the other original Downroe Banescales, he is rather ancient. He'll frequently tell stories and sing ballads of olden times to the newer recruits. Stories of his adventures when he was but a hatchling, playing games and honing his magickal ability. For a hatchling he was quite popular indeed. Bright pink scales made certain he stood out in a crowd and he grew to love the attention. His parents were quite proud. Not long after this sudden popularity growth, his mother enrolled him into music lessons-- and then, bard lessons. First starting out, he sounded like a Fae with a head cold. Many of his friends couldn't stand the hellish sound of the old harmonica he carried with him. Even his own father couldn't stand it, opting to push the optimistic hatchling away, in hopes he would become a warrior like many others. This spurred fights between the couple, and Vinum would sit in his nest, shaking and tearful. He learned to go into the forest for his lessons but not even the solace of nature could console him. Beginning to hate his music, he put down all instruments for moons, the only time he'd dare touch them would be for his lessons. Yet his mother kept encouraging. And encouraging. During lessons he begun to improve-- but his own music fell deaf on his ears. For the longest time it did for his teacher as well. It was then discovered his natural ability for magick and manipulating the thoughts of others around him. His parents, delighted, enrolled him in further teaching and encouraged him to perform, even if he was disgusted at the very idea. Forced to push himself out there, the feedback was astounding even to his teachers. Pride bubbled and burst forth once again from within him.
From there he became one of the top bards of that generation and was enrolled in the military. An astounding honor in Downroe. As a bard fighting for their righteous cause, he set an example for the culture and power of their people. He rallied soldiers, infiltrated enemy camps, and boosted defenses with his hymns. Rising in the ranks, he became Lieutenant before the empires collapse. Which brings him to where he is now, rising up like he did those centuries before, presented with an offer he couldn't refuse.
He would lead their army.
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Not many know the true story of Findatur. Those who do know are the ones who witnessed it with their own eyes, yet it is locked deep within their souls. Memories of better days when she was her true self. When she was a bright-- beautiful entity, with scales as white as the clouds she flew and lived in, flying among the blue sky. The light shone down upon her and favored her every whim, with the essence of the sun itself shimmering through her very scales. Her wings were once a bright pastel yellow and pure. As pure as an angel.
That was what she used to be-- an angel.
An angel that resided in the Celestial Plane. A place far, far out of every living dragons reach. Even the deities could not touch it, nor did they know it even exists-- who could say it did? Places like these only exist within draconian legend and faith. Faith… the very thing that drove Findatur's existence.
You see, among many others of her kind she was rather spectacular. Able to perform miracles of the highest caliber, to weave threads of light into her stitches of creation. Many other angels were in awe at this power. That was her job after all, to spread light and faith into the wayward souls of the world in spectacular displays. A smile on every dragons face was her goal. Crafting gifts, bringing opportunities, spreading joy, all whilst the receiving dragons would never know she was there. They never thought to question the sweaters and socks they'd find under their nests. Or the toys their hatchlings would get their claws on. Whispers of her power spread, all the way to the top. The other archangels under the guide of the sun agreed to one thing: she was ready to join their council. She was strong, energetic, eternally optimistic. With a song in her voice and a story in her heart ready to tell. Ready to help the most down on their luck dragon reach their dreams. It was her calling, and she enjoyed every second of it.
However, that was millennia in the past. What happened, you ask? She met up with a demon, a trickster in everyone's eyes. He was charming, knew card tricks, and wound himself into her heart. With soft words he strung her chords just right. He showed her all it was to be a demon; a slithering spirit of the underworld. The opposite side of her coin. He wrought chaos to all the dragons he whispered to. As the days passed, they spent more and more time together. Findatur became enraptured by him and did all she could to impress him, to his amusement. Truly, he did care for her. He showered her with gifts, praise, and like many others marveled at her power. She knew he was not evil. Demons, after all, are not inherently bad. Rather they just exist to keep the balance.
It was she herself who dove too far. His unique demonic gifts struck her fancy in a way it was never meant to. She started asking him questions, and when she went back into the clouds at night, she started researching nefarious things. There had been no word from the archangels in so long after all, who knew what they were up to? Would she get the position? And, my, imagine what she could do for her clients and the other angels if she just dug a little bit… deeper.
Downward she went. Researching incantations, blood rituals, learning to work and weave with the fires of the underworld. The things she could do, the joy she would bring to the downward souls she watched over.
The demon's excited praise turned to worry as the days passed. He'd check on her, wondering what would become of her and what she had been up to. Only to find her neck deep in books and terrible curses. Worried coos, requests-- eventually even pleas went into one ear, and out the other. Her once pristine, white and prismatic scales slowly started to shadow into a grey. Once she had a bright, and gold aura, now being muddled with the power she was working with.
Not soon after the other angels started to notice. They cowered in her presence and shied away from her. Nobody would talk to her, they started distancing themselves. Word got back to the archangels and they decided to intervene. This of course was not the first time an angel decided to delve onto an unruly path, and it would not be the last. Perhaps, they thought, it could still be corrected. When the sun was high over the celestial plane, Findatur found herself surrounded by the archangels. Poised carefully, she spoke dutifully and cautiously, assuring them everything was fine. This was of course a change from her usual attitude, which was once bubbly. Behind her she carved runes with her tail and an illusion was cast. Her scales once again a pristine glow. Of course, an aura is harder to mask and the other angels took note of this. But the sense of unbalance was not strong, not yet, and they left her to rest-- to decide what course of action to take. Findatur broke many rules and this was a crime not to go unpunished. However everyone knew, it must be handled carefully.
Unease fell over the celestial plane. The dark matter that touched Findatur took great pleasure with it. Findatur herself went along with it, diving deeper into her studies. She obtained scrolls from her-- rather concerned-- demon. Scrolls that would allow her to venture to a place that was forbidden by all costs, in an effort to improve her magick. The void is an unruly place.
In the void, findatur found great and terrible things. It was the in between, the unholy unbalance that hid far away from the other planes-- one could say it was an entire element of its own. In the back of the angels mind all she could think of was the joy she could bring. Yet the thought crossed her mind. Hadn't she seen enough? Acquired enough? It was risky going any further, and her old friends were becoming wary.
She had to know more.
Taking the essence of the void, even such a small fragment as she had, would be her downfall. She left the void gate a changed dragon. She held power now, power and knowledge that could shake whatever she touched. The power to destroy so easily twisted its way into her scales. The demon was there on her arrival, and seeing her state, decided that was enough.
It is not often a demon presents themselves to the archangels. Especially not on a note of peace and concern. He told them everything. How Findatur's scales were turning shades darker. The cracks of pure light that ran through her veins now tainted with the underworlds fire. All of the scrolls, research, everything. Of course he was to blame for this initial downward spiral, but he didn't realize.
She had such good intentions.
Shaken to their core, the council forgave him and sent him home. They had more pressing matters to attend to.
Deep inside her fortress of clouds a storm brewed. Findatur reveled in the new power she had obtained. Yet, she didn't notice how her scales were no longer white. Or the rippling of lightning and thunder that rose from her home. All she could hear was the ringing in her ears.
Inky blackness covered her vision,
and before she knew it,
she was hurtling towards the ground.
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Faelle & Avel - Commission for Jabbloo
Obligatory I do not own the characters! Just the writing. This is an old commission I dug up since I’m currently in the process of transferring all my old stuff to Tumblr for organizations sake. Enjoy!
Sun shone in through the windows, peeking through the clouds right onto the bed of the unsuspecting individual who was filling the room with snores. A green mop of hair jostled out from under the blankets; soon following was the person it was attached to. Avel grumbled in his sleep and tossed around in vain to get the sudden piercing heat away. During his struggle, a loud knock came from the door. The man grumbled some more, his snores being cut off and he thrashed around in his blankets. Another knock. Despite his efforts, the only thing he managed to do was tangle himself up, and when he tried to move his legs onto the floor, he slipped and fell with an audible and ungraceful thud. A giggle came from the door and it clicked open. Avel didn’t look up, his face firmly embedded in the floor, and he didn’t need to.
“G’mornin Faelle.” He grunted, wiggling his arm free.
Faelle grinned and kneeled beside him. She looked him over as he struggled to get his other arm out. With a shake of her head and a strong grip on the blankets, she ripped them off, and Avel tumbled free. “I would say you woke up on the wrong side of bed today, but you didn’t even wake up on the bed!” She chuckled. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah. My question is, who the hell puts a bed right next to a window that threatens to fry you every morning?” He exclaimed, gesturing to the bed which he thought should’ve caught on fire by now.
The girl laughed and started to dust him off. He scowled but didn’t protest, his head still fuzzy. “Well you’re lucky it’s the last time you have to sleep on it! We’re leaving today remember? It’s why I came to get you.” She grinned at him as he started to his feet. “And~ I’ve got a very neat place for us to go to next!”
“Thank the stars, they’ve shown me mercy.” He hauled himself onto the bed and his friend promptly threw his clothes at him. Grunting, he stared down at the clothes then looked back to her face, his head spun for a moment, and what she said re-played through his brain. Faelle grinned wider. She reached in her pocket and pulled out a flyer, waving it around. Avel took it before she could speak and scanned the page. He looked up and raised an eyebrow at her, but sighed.
“Now get dressed~!” She chirped and bolted her way out the door, slamming it behind her.
Some hours had passed. Faelle hacked through the tallgrass, a knife in her hand and her tail twitching. Avel walked slowly behind her as he re-read the flyer, his eyebrows scrunched together. The grass around them stood as tall as both of them, bright golden and blinding in the sun, with an abnormally thick stem. There was no wind yet it seemed to be shrinking away from them. Faelle went to slash another few stalks down to no avail. Sweat beaded down her face and she pursed her lips. Her companion stopped and looked up from the paper, his expression unchanged.
“I thought you said this place wasn’t that far?” He spoke up finally.
Faelle huffed, and with another strike brought the grass down. “It’s not much farther!” She straightened her stance and leapt over a ditch, her ear twitching as she heard Avel muttering behind her.
“Are you sure we’re not just going to get mugged? A magic circus or whatever out in the middle of nowhere seems sketchy.” He stared at his friend pointedly. She may not have been looking but she knew what look he was giving her, and shrugged. “Look at this flyer Faelle, look how insane these guys look. I want to punch one of ‘em.” He gestured to the artwork surrounding the text. Bordering the page was purple and gold artwork, with people donning jester attire of the same color, complete with gray masks that represented different facial expressions.
“I know, you’re right. But look!” She looked back at him and gestured wildly at the paper. “Don’t you want to see some magic Avel? Professional, fun magic?” Faelle grinned and wiggled her eyebrows before turning right back around. “If they’re sketchy and all that, we can leave okay?”
“I know I’m not going to convince you otherwise, so fine.”
Faelle twitched her tail high and kept forward. Her friend watched as she kept hacking away. Her tail fell slowly, her swings becoming slower, sweat prominent on her head. Avel sighed and stepped to her side, gesturing towards the knife. She blinked and opened her mouth, but her companion narrowing his eyes made her put it into his palm. Smiling, she stepped back as he picked up where they left off.
The grass cut off abruptly to reveal a clearing. Tents stood with flickering lights, carnies hopped around, and milling about were just a few passerbys. As the two gaped and almost unwillingly stepped closer, the atmosphere turned foggy and the sky faded into a deep shade of purple; the stars all but gone. They scanned the area and then glanced at each other. Faelle charged forward- and Avel trotted behind, his eyes darting around. Farther they went, the more the grass faded into the heavy fog that seemed to encase them all in a separate dimension. Sounds of laughter and whizzing of magic filled their ears. Approaching the tents the entire area seemed lit up, with signs pointing to various attractions. A small carnie no taller than three feet bounced over, waving his arms in the air, his mask wore a grin.
“Greetings!” His voice was high pitched and squeaky. Faelle turned to him with a smile.
“Hello!” She crouched down to his height. “Your outfit is so cute!”
The smile on the mask seemed to grow wider, and an ear piercing chuckle came from it. “Why, thank you! Now what brings you and your friend here, miss?”
Avel, cut from his wide-eyed stare, slumped and plastered an annoyed look on his face from the sudden attention. Faelle rolled her eyes and twitched her tail, beckoning him over. He stood next to her, preferring to stare down at the imp.
“We’re travellers and wanted to see what kind of things you guys had to offer! Is there anywhere you can direct us first?” Faelle said.
The carnie hummed and tapped his chin, before hopping up and cartwheeling over to the nearest tent. He posed and gestured grandly at the sign, exclaiming, “How about our house of magic mirrors? It’s a classic, everybody loves it!”
Before either one of them could get a word in, they found themselves being practically thrown in through the curtains, and soon it was pitch black as they closed behind them. Avel sighed and muttered along the lines of, “and this is where we die.” A nervous chuckle came from beside them as Faelle nodded. She turned to feel behind her, trying to tug the exit open. Lights lit up from the ceiling, shining down on hundreds of mirrors all facing in their direction. Both shouted from the sudden assault on her eyes. They froze, staring at the sight, the mirrors wobbled back at them. One by one they flew into the air. Light beams reflected off them in a blinding sight, and slowly, a few landed in front of the gaping individuals. Their reflections stood in all the mirrors, and Faelle stepped forward to trace her fingers over the glass.
“Okay. That’s impressive. I wonder what else they do besides… fly around.” Avel said, squinting at one of the mirror images, and as it mimicked him he stuck his tongue out at it.
Faelle hummed and flicked the glass. The reflection stopped. A grin formed on its face. With a yelp she jumped back, raising her fists instinctively as the clone stepped out stumbling, its legs folding in like jello as it got its bearings. “You spoke too soon!”
From the other mirrors more reflections were pushing their way out. Avel shot back from his clone, its upper half emerging. It wiggled out and stumbled closer, and Avel threw a punch that phased right through its head. He shivered, pulling his hand back, he flexed it while the sudden chill blazed through his arm. Faelle watched from the corner of her eyes and reached forward herself, her fingers going straight through the reflections arm, and her eyes widened.
“Well we definitely have our answer!” She let out a breathy chuckle, and her friend's eyes shot to her with his eyebrows raised. “I remember now; it’s an advanced form of Imaging magic, Y’know how I was trying to learn it a long time ago.” The reflections stopped and stood up best they could.
Avel’s lips pursed and he turned back to his doppleganger, cringing. “That certainly does not make them any less creepy.” He saw his own face pout back at him.
Rattling started up again. The two looked behind the mirrors blocking their view to see the others fly up- only for them to shoot down with a clash- they surrounded them. One by one, more reflections formed and dragged themselves out of the mirrors like zombies. Some waved, others just stumbled closer.
“Wow.” He breathed. A small smile on his face as sweat beaded down his forehead. He reached his hand out and stuck it into an images arm, the fiery chill shooting through his fingers again, he chuckled.
From next to them Faelle giggled as one of her clones puffed its tail up, looking like it had just been electrocuted. “There’s no way I look that ridiculous when I get mad.”
“You do, actually.”
They laughed at the mirror images making faces. They reflections danced back, and hastily they melted back into their respective mirrors. With sudden speed, the mirrors flew back, screeching as they slid, and the lights faded out. Shocked silence fell over the duo as the tent was plunged into pure darkness. A high pitched laugh came from outside as the curtains were withdrawn and they could see the outside, and in the doorway was their carnie friend, who made their re-entrance by bouncing to them.
“Greetings! Did you two enjoy yourselves?” He grabbed the two by the hands- which Avel struggled against- and dragged them outside, giggling. “I hope you didn’t find things too unsettling~!”
With a grunt Avel tore his hand away and absentmindedly wiped it on his tunic. “Yeah, it was cool.” He grumbled.
Faelle trotted alongside the carnie as her companion trailed behind them both, a wide grin on her face and her eyes sparkling. “It was fantastic! What else do you guys have around here?”
The smile on his mask twitched and he kept bouncing forward, the bells on his hat jingling, leading them to a place where there were a handful of individuals milling about. Food trolleys lined up around the tents and in groups. They were selling various things such as drinks, snacks, and various substances of deep fried, edible, heart-attack.
“I figured you two would work up an appetite after messing around with those mirrors!” He hopped onto a cart and adjusted his boots, his eyes boring into theirs. “Anyway, I’ll let you two go now to figure out things yourself. But remember! There’s a show coming on in the main area later.”
Faelle nodded at him. With that the carnie hopped down, and vanished into thin air leaving nothing but a puff of purple smoke. She gave a few quick claps and Avel chuckled from behind her.
“That was a pretty cool exit wasn’t it?” She turned to him, who shrugged and was currently sauntering up to a corn dog stand. Puffing her cheeks up she walked over, and leaned on the counter.
Snatching a corndog from one of the open display cases, Avel raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”
“Lighten up! You know you’re having a good time.”
Again he shrugged, his lips twitching. “We haven’t been mugged yet, so that’s a good start.” Faelle gave him a look. “So the effects are impressive! Doesn’t mean we won’t get mugged later.” He munched on his food, and out of the corner of his eye the cart worker poked his head out, seeing the ransacked display. Rummaging in his pockets he swiftly flicked some coins onto the counter.
Her stare quirked into a smile. “See you are having fun! Now let’s go see what else they have here!” She flicked her tail up in the air. Grabbing Avel by the arm, she dragged him off to the nearest BBQ stand. He let out a breath he had been holding. The corndog man gave him the stink eye.
With stomachs full they walked around taking in all the sights. Passing by traditional fire eaters, and more outlandish spellcasters, even shapeshifters. Card tricks were being performed to small groups of people. At one point, an entire herd of rabbits came charging out from a bystanders hat- which Faelle promptly ran after- and hardly anyone noticed the carnies laughing behind a sign. They were like imps, skittering here, there, and everywhere. One with the mask of a crying face stopped and stared at Avel for an uncomfortably long time. He averted his eyes away to watch his friend. A wisp of mana floated in her hand, her eyes sparkling as she fidgeted with it. The young mage in front of her chanted in a language neither understood. Words spoken, the wisp melded into her hands leaving bright, blue runes that floated on her skin. She watched as they shifted around, and wiggled her fingers, looking from every which angle. “May you have good fortune for the rest of the evening.” The mage whispered. Avel shifted closer, peeking at her hand.
“Would you like a charm?” The mage looked at him. His doe-eyed look faded and in its place bored eyes looked back at the mage. But slowly, he held his arm out. Instead of blue, pink mist enveloped his arms and snaked its way to his chest, runes formed snugly on his wrists like bracelets. Avel tilted his head as they danced around.
“You look like you could use some affection.” The mage spoke again, smiling and scratching the scruff on his chin.
Avel shot up and elbowed the giggling girl next to him. She let out an “oof” and opened her mouth, but he elbowed her again.
“Are you trying to say something?” He suggested, a smirk growing on his face.
The spellcaster raised his eyebrows and fidgeted with the sleeves on his cloak. “Well no I just saw it in your aura-”. A sudden finger on his lips silenced him. Avel slouched against the taller man’s side, fluttering his eyelashes. Faelle was red as snickers escaped the hands clasped over her mouth.
“I dunno….” Avel paused and looked at his fingernails. “What’s your name?”
A fierce blush covered the mage’s face. He stepped back, leaving Avel to almost fall over. “Erm… how about, if I see you a second time tonight, I’ll tell you.” He managed to spit out.
The other man frowned. “Is this some sort of ‘test of fate’ or something?” The mage nodded. “Fine, deal.”
The mage cracked a forced smile. “Great! See you… maybe.” With haste he twirled his robe and vanished in a massive cloud of blue smoke.
The two coughed violently from his exit, before Faelle busted out in a fit of laughter. Avel rolled his eyes at his friend clutching her stomach and practically falling over. “Wow! You laid it on thick!” She cackled louder and threw a rough punch to his arm.
He flinched from the blow and chuckled with her, rubbing his arm. “Do you think I properly scared him off?”
She stopped and gasped, shaking her head. “No! You might actually have a chance!”
“I doubt that sincerely. I only did it because he walked into it.”
Their display had attracted the attention of some passerby’s, who shuffled by and tried their best to avert their gaze. Some were laughing. Avel started to grit his teeth, Faelle’s giggles being drowned out by the sound of the crowd around them talking. Darting his eyes around he saw carnies camouflaging and lurking around the rooftops. He felt he had never turned on his feet faster, gesturing for his friend to follow, who was still grinning foolishly. They took some off-road turns around tents and over fences and bushes. Faelle had quieted down noticing her friends tense shoulders. After some walking they ended up in the back of the carnival grounds. Avel sighed and slumped against a wall, his eyes closed. Faelle put her hand on his shoulder and jostled him a little. “Did you get nervous?” She spoke gently.
“Mmhm.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “Saw the little muggers coming after us, and we had caused a bit of a scene.”
They sat and breathed for a moment. Faelle patted him on the shoulder and proceeded to look around. In front of them was a light grey brick wall that looked unending in each direction. Vines traced the walls and all lead into a massive clump- with an obscure opening behind it. She nudged her companion and he squinted at it, his eyes shifting around as she went over. Brushing back some of the vines revealed a faded wooden sign, covered in dust, which Faelle took to clearing away. It stated in red paint: OUT OF ORDER. Under it there was the word “maze” that was slightly scratched out. Sifting past more of the plants, it looked like an abandoned graveyard inside, with victorian-like architecture and more foliage revealed by torchlight.
“Hey~ what do you think is in there?” She stuck her head in further.
“It’s out of order for a reason you know.” He said, leaning over her shoulder. “It could be another one of their tricks! We should go in and have a look around.”
Avel crossed his arms and gave her a pointed look. “It is out of order Faelle, it looks creepy and I doubt anyone still goes in there.” He stepped back, shaking his head and scowling.
“Look, yes, this whole place is a little sketchy, but it’s nothing we can’t handle!” She exclaimed. “Besides the torches are lit!” Avel opened his mouth to protest, but Faelle put her hands on her hips and, smugly, took one step backwards so she was fully enclosed in vines. Protest dying in his throat, he sighed and trudged in after her.
“I really have to stop letting you drag me places.”
They creeped in further. Old vines and cobwebs tickled Avel’s shoulders, and he went to brush them off only to kick up grime hanging from the plants. His companion squinted at the amount of dust and brushed her hand over the walls. They turned out to actually be a dark, almost black, grey. She sneezed as the dust floated down to her level, wiping her nose as she turned the corner to a dead end. There, in the corner barely visible from the torch at the end of the hall, was a skeleton. Yellowed ivory stains covered the bones. Faelle staggered back and flung her hand over her mouth.
Avel grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into him, humming. “You think it’s a prop?”
“It looks pretty real to me….” She shrugged him away and crouched forward. The bones appeared more and more rugged as she got closer, and peering over it in the light there was no familiar shine of plastic.
“Maybe that’s why it’s out of order, someone died in here.” Eyes darting toward the entrance, he slumped against the wall behind him. “That’s a sign that we should, y’know, leave now.”
Faelle scooted backwards. Her ears pressed against her head as she turned away, about to round the corner with her friend. Clicking came from behind them. Then popping. The duo looked and stopped cold. Click, tap, pop, creak, the skeleton made its way to its feet, and was tap dancing its way over. Complete with a top hat which it pulled from behind its back.
Avel and Faelle proceeded to book it through the maze. “Oh hell no, I am NOT doing this today!” Avel shouted. Faelle picked up a rock and chucked it at the bones as they rounded another corner, almost slipping and smacking into a wall.
They ran through a four way intersection, down a small flight of stairs, deeper into the maze. Roses grew on the walls the further they went, and they slowed down to not prick themselves on the many thorns now surrounding them. The dark sky that could be seen above them was completely blotted out with vines by the time they reached another turn. They peered behind one of the three turns they could make- a wall of thorns suddenly sprouted off the walls behind them. Completely blocking their exit. They leapt back and immediately turned to their choices. A moment passed of silence and gritted teeth. A glint came from one of the pitch black hallways. Glancing at each other, the duo decided to proceed that way.
“I told you it was a bad idea to come in here.” Avel said, cringing as he glanced behind them. In response Faelle absentmindedly rubbed her arms.
Suddenly the corridor in front of them went dark. Clicking and tapping came from the distance and echoed off the walls, coming closer and closer. Familiar popping of limbs filled their ears. They scrambled back only to knock against the thorn wall, letting out yelps, as a bony foot came into the light. Coming into view was the skeleton from earlier, with a permanent smile on his face and the top hat now on his head, twirling a cane in his fingers. He tipped his hat. “Hello!” Before anyone knew it, he had his grin in their faces, holding a hand out. “I’m Stan the Stand-Up-Skeleton-Man! Boy, you two sure are rude, running from me like that earlier!”
Slowly, Faelle smiled, reached out, and shook his hand, which ended up being much more forceful then she expected. “We’re so sorry about that! We’re kind of on edge right now.” Avel shuffled away as much as he could, staring at the magic talking skeleton with a rigid stance. He completely ignored the hand gestured towards him, muttering along the lines of “what kind of name is Stan anyw-'' before a palm smacked over his face cut him off. The skeleton took his hand anyway, shaking it gleefully.
“That just won’t do! I know, it’s probably because you’re down here. I’m used to it because I’ve been here for hundreds of years but it’s probably very dreary for you two! Come, let me show you the way out!” He jumped ahead of them without warning. The thorns opened up for him and he strode into one of the dark corridors, gesturing for them to follow. Like the thorns, the torches too reacted, lighting the way for them.
Despite himself, Avel was looking the skeleton over and wondering. “So you’re a stand-up? You tell jokes?”
“Oh yes! We’d love to hear some!” Faelle chirped, looking at the skeleton with a now huge grin as she jumped to his side.
“Indeed I am a comedian! Although, I’ve been down here a while… I’m afraid I’m not quite as -humerus- as I used to be.”
Silence, and the sound of two pairs of footsteps where the skeleton expected a ba-dum-tss to be. His never ending grin quirked higher. The third pair of footsteps, Avel, stopped behind them, and if the skeleton could feel he would feel Avel’s breathing down his neck. His face was in a disapproving scowl as Faelle bit her lip to try and hide her smile.
“I regret asking.” “Avel seems to think you don’t have a funny bone in your body!”
“That’s it, I’m done. I might as well go live out the rest of my existence with whatever other talking skeletons are down here. I’m sure they can at least tell better jokes.
Stan let out a loud guffaw. “Nonsense! The other skeletons down here don’t appreciate my jokes either, they don’t have a sense of humor!” He shook his head as he led them down another path. With a tap of his feet, a tile under him was pressed down like a button, and the sound of grinding stone rumbled through the corridor. Light could finally be seen at the end.. “Besides, we’re almost there.”
Begrudgingly the green haired grump kept following them, all while Faelle was laughing and pinching his arm. More moonlight filtered in. As they neared the exit, the thorns and vines also thinned, leaving a not so dusty grey wall. It almost looked polished. Stan kept cracking bad puns as they stepped into the sunlight. He stopped his jokes only to gesture wildly as tents and carnies came into their vision. They had exited right in the middle of the carnival. A fountain sat next to the hole that had just opened in the ground. The carnies were all wearing frowns as Stan wiped the dust off himself. Avel heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back, warily watching the small clowns, while Faelle busied herself with thanking the skeleton and inspecting the hidden door.
One of the carnies stepped forward. “Why, hello! What is all this?”
“Ha- well, we found this place and were really curious- “ Faelle was cut off.
“It feels so good to be out of there!” Stan exclaimed, cracking his bones. “The better question is why did you close it down at all! It gets so boring!”
“Yeah! It was really cool, I’m sure there was a lot of stuff we didn’t get to see!” A loud cackle followed. One of the carnies was doubled over, another one snickering next to him. A pink glow materialized in the snickering one’s hand, writhing its way over to Stan, he was enveloped in the mist and lifted up into the air- a loud “wheee!” came from the skeleton. Avel finally looked up from scowling in the corner, his lips parting open and a sparkle flashed through his eyes, but as he looked down at the carnies his knuckles tightened.
“You guys should of seen the looks on your faces!” The carnie cackled. Stan was being twirled in the air like a puppet on strings, giggling. Avel squinted at the display and piped up. “So, are those skeletons down there actually real?” Stan was twirled in the air as another carnie spoke. “Indeedy they’re real alright! They have been down there for who knows how long.”
Faelle paused from her wonderment and turned away from Stan, her ears flicking. “Wait so, you’ve been using them as props…?”
“They love it!” As they spoke, the mist around Stan faded, and the skeleton slammed onto the ground with a grunt, his skull popping off. “We give them life again. They haven’t been out in a while though! They usually stay down there. But they’re perfect for playing pranks!”
“That seems kind of mean….” Faelle muttered, looking at the now flattened skeleton. She crouched down and started pulling him up to his feet, which he smiled at her and promptly re-attached his head.
Before anyone knew it, Avel was standing in front of the carnies, glaring down at them. He smiled lazily and socked one of them in the face. They flew back only to crash into the others.
He looked back to his friend and shrugged. “I told you I wanted to punch one of them. Re-animating the dead is kind of creepy.”
One by one, the purple bowling pins got to their feet. All their masks wore smiles now as they rubbed their head and turned to the perpetrator. Avel nudged his head in the direction of the exit to Faelle, before briskly walking away. Gaping, Faelle threw herself to her feet and flung Stan over her shoulders, running after them, while giggling started behind them.
The carnies had charged. Waving their wands and stamping their feet, they threw bolts and mists of various colors at the duo. “Welcome to the Main Event!” They hooted and hollered. Avel started running now. They both weaved and dodged the bullets. Somehow, not one had hit. Passerby’s leapt out of the way and turned their heads as carnie’s shot fireworks into the air.
“What were you thinking?” Faelle scolded from beside him. Her teeth gritting when a flash went by her face, Her friend was smiling and looked back, giving the carnies a salute before completely gunning for the exit. A woman yelled, and Faelle was pulled out of her intense glare. SLAM, they crashed into each other. Faelle skirted and rolled her ankle, barely catching herself. Her eyes widened and she reached for the woman, grabbing her arm before she could completely hit the ground. Mouth opening, the carnie's laughter cut her off.
Stan suddenly jumped off her shoulders. “I’ll help her!” He loudly proclaimed, pushing Faelle forward.
She started running again, and when she looked back, Stan had already brought the dazed woman to a seat. Smiling apologetically to her and to everyone else who was staring as she passed. But, not looking where she was running, she slammed right into Avel’s back. The man almost toppled under the sudden force, grabbing his friend by the shoulders, he scowled. Faelle squinted at him, a silent question, and he gestured in front of them. Carnie’s were surrounding them. All were laughing. Fireworks still flew into the air.
“Okay, what do we do?” Faelle squeaked.
Avel’s eyes scanned the crowd and landed on the wizard from earlier. With a lazy smile he waved his hand. The wizard jolted. He shuffled his feet, moving to turn away, only to pause and sigh. Following his gaze, Faelle elbowed Avel in the side and squinted at him. He waved her off, gesturing to the situation around them while giving the wizard a wink. All of the patrons of the carnival were staring and chuckling. The carnies drowned them all out, laughing and shooting fireworks, dancing around them.
Rolling his eyes, the wizard nodded to Avel. With a wave of his hands, blue mist swirled in front of the two, lightning crackling among it. Faelle reached forward only to have her hand jolted, but she shuffled closer. Surrounding them the carnies paused and their masks flipped upside down.
The cracking of lightning got louder. Faelle gaped as the magic mass formed a circular shape. “Is he making a portal?” She shouted. The shifting colors opened finally, revealing a village on the other side.
“Guess so!” He gave the wizard another wave and winked.
Fizzing and crackling, the image in the portal was almost fully formed. One of the carnies leaned forward and moved their head around, before cackling. “Now is not the time to be flirting Avel!”
From the crowd burst Stan, waving his arms. Patrons shouted from the sudden skeleton, leaping back, as he pushed his way into the circle. “Goodbye!” Carnies glared at the intrusion and ran forward. Closing in, the portal zapped open. With one last wink to the wizard, Faelle laughed, grabbing his arm and hauling him to the other side.
They crashed onto the pavement. When they looked up, it looked as if nothing was ever there. The sun was back. Townsfolk looked up from their tasks, sighing, some stepping forward to get a close look at the scene. From one of the market buildings came “did that wizard poof someone in here again?”
Faelle rolled on the ground giggling. “That was awesome!”
Her companion rubbed his head, his face scrunched. All he could do was chuckle. “Yeah. Next time I’m choosing where we go. Somewhere less creepy okay?” He stood up and brushed off his tunic, grabbing his friends outstretched hand.
She hopped up and waved to the disgruntled people, and then ruffled Avel’s hair before she ran off. “Sure! Now let’s go find an inn!”
Came back after a while and miss seeing your blog! Ill be able to throw in a couple bucks once I get paid
As you might of noticed, I’ve had serious issues with my laptop lately, and honestly it’s frustrated me to tears multiple times. It’s been on its way out for a long time, we all know that, and whilst I really didn’t want to do it, I think I finally need to just make this post.
First let me say that you are by no means obligated to donate to me. I am not withholding my usual content from you, nor am I saying that you have to support me in this way. Even once this laptop gives out completely, I will still try and find a way to get my writing done and ready for you all, it’s just going to be much harder to do so.
That being said, if you could donate even $1 I would be incredibly grateful. Even if only half of you did so, I would be able to purchase the laptop I need.
Please don’t donate if it’s going to put you in a bad position, but if it isn’t, then please consider it.
I don’t like asking this, and you’re more than welcome to simply ignore this message and carry on, or even block the tag #motherfuckingdonations if you don’t want to see this post, or posts like it in the future, because I am going to have to start reblogging this semi regularly until I get what I need. I apologise for that in advance.
Please help me if you can Darlings.
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Resources For Writing Royalty
Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress
It’s shorter than the usual resource master post, but I found some great resources and I think this is a good jumping-off point for those who are including a royal court in the world building of their story.
Fantasy Guide to Writing A Royal Family
How to Write A Fictional Royal Court
Writing Royalty and Nobility - Common Mistakes
Creating a Fictional Monarchy
Questions to Ask When Creating a Fictional Monarchy
Writing Royal Characters
Ethics in World Building : Monarchy
Royal Titles Around The World
Regions’ Royal History Broken Down
Early Overall History
Medieval and modern Europe
Positions in A Royal Court
Gentleman of the Bedchamber
Groom of the Stool
The Royal Fool
Keeper of the seal
King of arms
Maid of Honour
Master of Ceremonies
Master of the Horse
Master of the Hunt
Panter or Grand Panetier
Masterlist | WIP Blog
If you enjoy my blog and wish for it to continue being updated frequently and for me to continue putting my energy toward answering your questions, please consider Buying Me A Coffee, or pledging your support on Patreon, where I offer early access and exclusive benefits for only $5/month.
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Spring is here and with it-- FRIENDS!
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Another chunk of Flight Rising lore. I’ve actually quit FR at this point, but I have a lot of stuff on there that I’ve written that I want to post on other places too and this short little scene is one of them. Introducing: Gay dragon bois. Hayate is a smol soft bean who just stays to himself, and his boyfriend Livenz is a chaotic thrill seeker. Cute shit ensues.
A storm brewed on the horizon, growing winds whipped around Hayate spelling out the weather he was named for. Livenz' excitement only grew at the situation. Electricity rippled between the pair and their nerves could practically spark lightning.
Hayate could only think they conjured the darn storm.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The dappled blue Banescale gulped. Before them was a drop that looked like it could go on forever. They stood at the brink of the Sea of a Thousand Currents, right off the cliff of Plague's unruly territory. The pairs wings were strapped to their sides-- for extra thrill no doubt-- and parachute packs sat innocently on their backs.
Livenz threw his head back and laughed, clapping the smaller male on the shoulder, and responded. "You kiddin'? We won't get another chance like this for months! Just look at them waves!"
It was true, the waves looked about twenty feet high. Plus deep down he knew: there was really no stopping his crazy boyfriend. He had only resigned himself to this trip to make sure the idiot didn't drown. Livenz looked at him and frowned, Hayate's face was an open book. There was no mask to hide the panic in his eyes.
"Y'know you don't have to jump with me ya' goof."
"Seriously? No!" He shook his head defiantly. Courage swelled in his stomach. Or was that him about to lose his lunch-- he'd never know. Livenz could only give him a blank stare that said all he needed to know. He twitched his tail up. "I… want to try to be a part of your hobbies, you know that. So we can do something that isn't boring like sitting around the shop, o-or picnic dates or me sitting there watching all the time."
The neon banescale could only roll his eyes. Nudging his partner in the side, Livenz grinned. "And you know I enjoy all that so called "boring" crap with you. You're so stubborn."
"I'm not the one about to jump off a cliff…."
"Actually, you are." Livenz winked.
A blush creeped on to Hayate's face. Glancing down to the water, then to Livenz, then back to the water and-- oh jeez. "Are you sure about that?" He shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
The storm was drawing closer, both of them knew they didn't have much time left to do this crazy task. With a wicked grin, Livenz bumped him with his shoulder, and shouted--
"Only one way to find out!"
--Then proceeded to fling himself off the edge, whooping with glee.
Hayate blanched, his heart thundering in his chest louder then any drums he'd heard and would ever hear. Focus snapped back to him and with an impulsive leap he jumped down after his partner. Static rolled over his scales and he screamed.
But, once he let out the initial panic, the whipping winds didn't seem so bad.
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Person A: “I’m in love with you.”
Person B: “…..That’s unfortunate.”
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IM READY! I’ll be making a side blog that’ll be a mostly in universe blog about me and my character going through the world of dappervolk, with some twists!
some incredibly personal and specific memes
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Trying to get back into the writing game, so hello!
Like/Reblog if you’re a writeblr!
I wanna fill my dash with all your awesome work!
Especially like/reblog if you post:
[I follow with my main blog, black-widoh]
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Writer B here
Writer A: I spent 5 years figuring out my magic system
Writer B: It’s magic. There is no explanation. Just deal with it and move on
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“You’re Not a Good Writer.”
I once received a DM comprised of just that sentence. Nothing else. No constructive criticism or any reason as to why this person clearly agreed with my own view of myself.
For someone who has never told anyone in their real life that they write anything, reading something like this from an anonymous user only solidified in my mind the fact that this person was right.
I’m not a good writer.
After an embarrassing amount of minutes passed, in which I thought about deleting every story I ever posted, I decided to delete the message instead. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean I could delete the feelings it caused or change the fact that I’m not a good writer.
Two weeks went by and I didn’t write anything, let alone post. Then I received a comment on a story I had posted three years prior, one I’d written after a death in our family. The comment read, “Thank you for sharing this heartfelt story. I really needed this. I just lost my mom and this really got me today.”
I stopped thinking about being a good writer after that. I thought instead, “what if I had deleted my stories and that one person three years later hadn’t read it that day?”
Here’s what I realized: no one is a good writer.
Good means to be approved of, but stories aren’t created from approval. They’re built from life experiences, feelings, and emotions Therefore, the impact of anyone’s story isn’t good or bad. It’s a million other things.
So to all the story writers out there, hold your head up, write what is in your heart, and never doubt that there isn’t at least one person out there that needs to read your story.
We’re not good writers, but why would we want to be?
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I'm definitely type A....
In my experience there are two kinds of writers when it comes to naming characters:
Type A: meticulously combs and picks through full first middle and last names while reading up on meanings to make sure that their names are as true to the nature of the character as possible 🧐🧐🧐
Type B: finds a name that sounds good and rolls with it, doesn’t give a flying ounce of thought to what it might mean 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻
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might get boring after some time
you gotta watch your mortal friends die…. like a lot
falling in love is painful every time
the end of the world??
no need to hurry with anything
being able to consume all the media you ever wanted
meeting others immortals and gossiping about Russian tsars, Roman emperors and Summerian priestesses
making the Church believe that you are the Antichrist and allowing yourself to be exorcised just for shits and giggles
wandering the Swiss Alps in a black trench coat and accidentally becoming the local cryptid
pretentiousness, hedonism & decadence
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Villain: Give me one reason why I should let you live.
Hero: Because I’m secretly the voice actor for the main character of your favourite show, and if you kill me they’ll never be anymore episodes!
Villain: Is that why there’s so many Hiatuses?!!?!
Submitted by @thegoofyseadragon
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Finally am posting this! This is part of my lore story on a game called Flight Rising. It’s my bio story for Livenz, my amazing gay transgender casino owner who I love very much and I need to find him a cute boyfriend soon.
Chaotic, energetic, and incredibly saucy. Livenz holds the record for bringing in the biggest crowd for one of the worst habits in Sornieth: gambling. He prides himself on what he does, and if that dragon gets ripped off? All the better. He's slick and sly when he needs to be, a smooth outward demeanor only adding to his charm. Eyes always catch on him. Whether it's the extreme color of his scales or the suit he wears on a daily basis (is that thing even washed?) nobody knows. It's both, he thinks. Definitely both.
Scale smoothing charm is not this dragons only strong suit. Outside of running raffles and blackjack he's an adrenaline junkie. Those dangerous cliffs off the coast of the raging sea are simply perfect for him to spend an afternoon bungee jumping in. Or perhaps surfing. He doesn't even know how to surf, but damnit, he will end up trying anyway.
Really, dragons swoon for him, and while he might seem like a player on the outside, he's really looking for one gentle-drake to worm their way into his heart. He's got his eyes set on this one guy. Who is he? He won't say. They definitely don't approve of his night job though.
Many speculate about where he originates from. Where could such a dashing dragon come from? With such flair in his every move? Such utter gusto? Who taught him such good fashion instincts? Well if you catch him on a good night in the casino he may tell you a thing or two-- oh don't mind the cards they were always like that-- things like his home town. He comes from a bustling city in The Shifting Expanse. A place many a dragon could only dream of going, but according to him, it somehow got boring. Not enough crazy stunts to pull, he'd say. Some ask about his mother, how is she doing? And little Squibbles the younger brother, where is he now? Livenz would only cackle and mention something about being disowned. Really, his family was rather "by the books" as they say. Always prim and proper. Constantly having guests over for tea and a nice dose of drama. Of course, nobody would do anything about said drama except Livenz. The trouble he got in was always worth it. They don't talk about the fact that he toilet papered the local noble-drakes house…. So yes, to him, it was boring, so he set off! For adventure! Love! Who knew what he'd find.
As is now he is completely happy with his lifestyle. A daring stunts man by day and a shifty swindler by night. Even after the Banescale monarchy took over not much changed for him-- except the whole load of new customers. And a whole load of new cheaters.
Some dragons really can't stop keeping cards behind their horns….