#Toon: Armiin B

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Tumblr is really fucking up the quality for some reason, but I don’t think I ever actually uploaded this. I like to turn my OCs into memes.

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A, T for Armiin!

Expression meme: ACCEPTING!

/laughs nervously ‘what the fuck’

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Puts five sodas into the same cup. Fuck you.

Male dark rangers???? I have an already shadow tainted hunter???? ready to fucking die and live with his san’layn husband forever??? yes.

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Wings of the raven carry urgency through the chilled breeze of the Plaguelands, feathers of midnight cutting through the clear sky like an eclipse; it’s shadow bleeding into the lands as an omen for misfortune to fall. The avian is unknown in origin but talons clasp parchment sealed within an envelope, and its path is true--no guidance needed as its senses lead forward, and its hollowed form dives between the treeline in search of the old, bricked home tucked away into the forest. 

The Hunter finds himself unaware, hands busied as they dig into the coarse dirt of his makeshift garden, the area beginning to bloom with color as flowers of all breeds have their roots snug and buried. Roses of crimson adorned with thorns are the last to be settled into their new home, still living in the pot they had been purchased in but ever determined to soak up the nutrients this land would provide. While his hands are coated and the hole is dug, there is something that causes Armiin to pause--a sound, that of wings cutting through the sway of branches, but his assumption is that of a pet; of the little black avian he had gifted his beloved only months before. He does not look, but then it cries, screeching for attention as the fence-post is used as momentary rest, and in his startle dark eyes of black and green raise to find that this was not the bird he thought it to be. 

“...Um.”

Armiin’s lips part, but before he can even question the beast it had again taken flight only to leave that enclosed note behind. Puzzlement is heavy, but he’s forced to stand; sore joints creaking under the movement as his last pot is forgotten and dirtied fingers scoop up the envelope from where it had been left. The edges are pried open with caution, but even before such his eyes had caught the seal--...dark wax pressed with the emblem of the Forsaken, such a sight that brought anxiety to rise; causing the Hunter’s chest to tighten with knowing. Those digits begin to tremble, but forced is he to pull the letter from its casing, diligently scanning over the inked lettering;

‘Armiin Mossfeather,

        You are hereby summoned to continue your duties as a soldier for the Horde, and are expected to present yourself posthaste to Orgrimmar for the next draft to join our forces in overtaking Darkshore from the Alliance. 

        Details are as presented.’

A date is posted, details on needed supply to bring, and an estimate for the time he will be deployed--but all blurs, and dread begins to fill the sinking sensation in his chest. Oh, how he knew his past stunt in the previous war would come back to pull his World apart, but no choice was given; follow the Horde’s orders, or be marked as a traitor for inability to comply. Jagged teeth clench and chatter, fingers curled into the note with reluctance to release, but with force does he pull himself away from where he stood, back turned to the forest as booted foot carry him to his home of stone. 

Already ajar is the door thus he’s quiet upon entering, apprehension lingering overhead as his throat bobs--croaked out with the name of his beloved.

“L-Leandro?”

Armiin calls into the home, and from the seating ahead does blond hair protrude; pale fingers clasped around a tome of leather binding with nothing more than the flames of the fire there to light the words. Blue eyes turn to meet that of muddy green, but the softness they held soon twisted into worry when noting the fear wrought upon the tamer’s features.

“Armiin? What’s wrong?”

The spine of that book is for once untidy, pages placed downwards against the coffee table as the San’layn moves to rise and approach the taller, yet, Armiin does not speak, and those trembling hands only hold forward the letter of ink they clasped so tightly. 

Silence in the home is thick as words are read, and Leandro’s features begin to meld with anger and sorrow, eyes of illuminating blue flickered to stare up into the shadowed features of his husband.

“You’re not going, right? Right?”

“Lean, I--I have to--”

“No! No, you don’t have to do anything! Armiin, you’re sick, they can’t--you can’t--”

The stinging of tears wells into each pair of eyes, the newly weds both drowned in dismay; at a loss of what possibilities they had. Leandro’s lips quiver, his breathing hitches, and his smaller body is pressed into the chest of the Hunter when drawn forward. Arms coil around the Darkfallen’s body, the fingers of his right buried into that head of wheat-like hair, and already can he feel the damp tears beginning to stain his collar. 

“It--it’s okay. It’s ok-okay. I’m going to--to come back, y-you know that, right? I--I wouldn’t l-leave you. I’ll come back. I pr-promise.”

---

Adorned in leathers of red and the cries of battle fill his ears, the clash of weaponry and the howls of pain as warriors of each side fall if only to litter the sands of the shore in bodies and blood. Fear had stricken, but instinct carries, arrows nocked into their bow of metal and oak to soar and seek their own enemies to displace. His aim is unsteady--his will to fight broken, and he does all that he can to leave his opponents breathing. 

He didn’t belong; he had no qualms with the Kaldorei, nor even the Worgen or the Alliance as a whole, but forced was he to join in their fight, that the Horde’s leader culled as many bodies as possible to overtake land that was not theirs. It was wrong--it was SICK, but even then, he did not want to experience the dire consequence of betraying his people, of being cast out for denying their need of bodies. 

Armiin quakes, his breathing wracked as he follows the flow of battle; the ache in his chest ever growing, and the nearby treeline is used as cover to take a moment to breathe. His back slumps against the trunk of a withered tree, head dipped back to stare at the darkened sky lingering with the touch of emerald as blight carries to taint the war-torn shores. Breath is visible in chilled puffs, diminishing slow into the air around; his lungs struggling to fill against the cold. He waits, and waits, and waits--the time is ticking, but his fright is rising and unable is he to move, to return to the battle surrounding. 

“D-dammit...”

He exhales, but in the same breath a pain begins to bloom; a sudden shock that trails from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers as a damp crimson begins soaking through the bulk of his leather harness. Eyes wide and head snapped, and the feather of an arrow is caught in his sight, protruding from his shoulder to dismantle him where he stood. What--?

Then, another, but this time he moves, tumbling out of the way as a barrage is brought down upon him; only narrowly avoid the bulk of the attack as arrowheads lodge into the tree he previously sought shelter. Armiin bites back a cry when fingers grip against the shaft of the weaponry, yanking free the arrow buried into his shoulder, using the same piece to nock into his bow and shoot blindly off into the darkness. It makes no contact--clattering against the forest floor, but out from the depth eyes of silver shimmer as the night elven makes themselves known. One much like himself--a Hunter of sorts, wielding that of bow and arrow, and at their side, a saber; a companion to sniff out the enemies hidden in the trees. 

The Sin’dorei freezes, clumsily lifting himself to a proper stand, and as his hand shifts back to draw from his quiver, the Kaldorei does the same. It’s a test of wills--of who will and wont strike first, and its a near flash of an eye before a bowstring is drawn back and biting through the air. 

A gasp, stiffened shoulders, and their eyes wilt downwards as the arrow sinks into their chest between the loops of chain-mail, and the one placed upon their bow is dropped uselessly beside their feet. It’s silent--nothing but the pounding of a pulse in their ears, and those eyes of shimmered green begin to dim as the night around pitches into black. 

Armiin’s knees find no strength to hold, his body teetering down with a thump into the dirt, hands desperately grappling against his chest as if that alone could remove the arrow’s pierce. Air catches in his throat, leaving him to wheeze and struggle, and the footsteps of his enemy are waning--retreating, seeking out the next of his kin to triumph over. 

“Wai...Wait--...”

Left to plead to a deaf God the Sin’dorei’s sight had vanished as eyes roll upwards, the pain bloomed within his chest fading just as his mind does; just as the darkness coils around his heart and squeezes the very last meek beat from the failing muscle. 

---

“--WAIT!”

A cry ripples through the once lamenting silence, body jolted from the dirt beneath in a flurry that leaves the Hunter’s head spinning; his senses but a blur as all around becomes clear. 

Where--...where was he? What was happening? The land around begins to piece itself together; the familiar dark shadows of the shore coming clear, but the mess of machinery that spewed green sludge tainted the grounds, and the array of bodies that surrounded him were not unmoving--and they were not unlike his own. 

“Wh-what...”

He croaks out, and yet, empty are his lungs and empty would they stay--and memory begins to strike as hands scour to his chest, to find the piercing through his armor and the hole still dug into his flesh. Numb; no stinging of pain, and no spout of blood, but a wound none-the-less that one should not have awoken from. His vision scours, and those beside him begin to stand, their eyes like fire as they stare upon approaching footsteps, and Armiin’s head turns slow to meet them, to stare up at the pale figure adorned in black with his head held high and confidence exuding. 

“Rise, Dark Rangers, and serve your Queen.”

[dreamfoiled]

YOU KEEP SAYING ‘FOR MY ILLIDARI BOYS’ BUT IM BIASED so the soft “You asleep?” starter for learmiin?! is that okay? bc i just know lean with his inability to sleep often bugs his hubby all the time in bed and i wanna know how armiin takes it each time ;v;

Soft sentence starters - accepting

“You asleep?” 

The words ring in the back of his tired mind, the sha-infested Hunter finding himself fading in and out of his attempt at sleep--but it seemed tonight, it would mostly be out. Those scarred features scrunch in dismay, chest rumbled deep with a groan to his awakening, but with a crack of an eye, a welcomed image comes into view. While blurry from sleep, the shaggy mess of blond hair that peered over-top him was easily recognizable, and even more so those soft eyes of blue that cut through the darkness; adding a comfortable illumination as Armiin began to fully wake.

“Mm--...I--I was.”

Armiin slurs, head lulling to its right to gain a better glance upon his sleepless beloved, noting that usual, worried look whenever the poor darkfallen couldn’t sleep. A grunt is given when the Hunter twists his form, shifting the covers about, and gripping against the edge; holding it up as invitation for Leandro to crawl in beside. Never had sleep been easy for Armiin himself to come by, and sympathy panged for one finding it even more difficult still.

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Trying to get my motivation back, so I tried something different ‘cause, I dont’ know, why not.

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Been needing some of that Armiin and Lean goodness. @lamb-like-lion

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can i ask ALL of the flowers for armiin or nah LOL (they can be short answers!! I JUST CANT PICK)

Flower language - Accepting!

Betony What’s something that has surprised your character?

Where he is now in his life; he never once thought he’d get back into the blood elven society, find a mate, and settle down. He’s surprised every morning when he wakes up next to Leandro, when he steps foot into Silvermoon, and when he isn’t withering under the anxiety of it all. 

Asphodel What’s something your character regrets?

His relationship with his Brother, and that he couldn’t somehow fix it. He regrets leaving their home, leaving Dentrid to become what he is now, and not being able to quell the anger inside him. 

Wild Tansy What’s something your character fights against?

His illness; every day is just a new challenge to roll himself out of bed despite the aching in his bones, or that wracking cough, or the pain in his chest that makes him want to curl up and sleep forever. 

Larch What’s the boldest, bravest thing your character has done?

When it comes to physical boldness, whenever he faces the large, dangerous animals of the wild and attempts his hand at gaining their trust. Many times has he been struck down by them, yet keeps getting back up and trying, perhaps it’s idiotic, but it certainly is bold and brave. 

Circaea What intrigues and enthralls your character?

Simply nature, everything about it is something new and exciting to see and explore. 

Chicory What is your character’s attitude toward money?

He doesn’t much care for it; he’s used to living off the lands with very little to his name. He doesn’t have much an opinion at all. 

Pink Carnation What is one thing your character will never forget?

Being sent away from home, and the dangerous journey across the sea. It still haunts him in his nightmares and daydreams. 

Buttercup Tell me about your character’s childhood.

For about 12 years it was fairly average; his Mother was a military woman and his Father her support system, thus Armiin was often home alone with his elder Brother. But, it was fine, Dentrid was studying magic and Armiin would go out and greet the wildlife, spending most of his time outdoors. When that mark of about 12 hit, though, and the lands became dangerous with war, the two Brothers were sent across sea without the guidance of their parents and left to fend for themselves. Dentrid became angry and abusive, blaming Armiin for their strife, and Armiin became reclusive and closed off to everyone until the day he was able to leave home and head for the forests. 

Zinnia Has your character ever lost or left behind someone?

He lost both of his parents. Technically they’re still alive, but he doesn’t know that, nor do they know he and his Brother are still alive. 

Mugwort What makes your character happy?

Leandro, of course. His companion animals. Warm meals. Good naps by the fireplace. The season of Autumn. 

White Heather What are your character’s goals?

Honestly, Armiin doesn’t really have any goals he’s striving for. He knows his time is limited, and has sort of come to accept that fact. 

Hellebore What’s the biggest mess your character has gotten into?

Probably when he stumbled upon an Alliance encampment by accident, and they took it as a threat and called him a spy. It’s how most of his facial scars were gained, along with the burn scars on his arms. He got lucky and was able to sneak away within the night, or they certainly would have killed him. 

Though, also when Leandro was kidnapped, and he went to find him; that...was a very large mess, and again, Armiin was sure he was going to die. 

Frog Ophrys What is your character afraid of?

Nearly everything. 

Solidago What is your character’s greatest triumph so far?

Honestly, I’m not super sure. He gave little effort to any wars, is no saving children from burning buildings man, nor has he climbed the largest mountain. 

Acanthus What are your character’s hobbies?

Herbalism and alchemy. 

[dreamfoiled]

i have a horrible head ache and managed to sketch this garbage. Void Elf Armiin hacking up void gunk. 

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me: sad

brain: draw something suggestive

me: ok

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:Shrug emoji:

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Wow, Dustin, another Armiin and Leandro ( @lamb-like-lion)story? When will you stop? Never. Hi I’m super embarrassed about this but WHATEVER. 

“What’s the--the occasion?”

Mirth fills the Hunter’s voice as tainted hues flicker their attention, peering down at the various paper bags touched together atop the dining table; neither one quite overflowed, whatever was packed within still a mystery. Armiin raises on his toes, attempting to get a peak around Leandro as he went about digging through his purchases, the sounds of crinkling paper filling the kitchen. Leandro peers over his shoulder, an almost sheepish smile settled to the corner of his lips as shoulders hike and shrug with his own uncertainty. 

“I might have gotten a little carried away.”

The San’layn admits with a nervous twinge to his tone, diligently going about emptying the bags and pulling out what he’d brought home; the usual canned and boxed foods Armiin lived off of that they were running low on, though, an unusual amount of perishables. Both men knew such treats would only go rotten within their home, and yet, it seemed someone couldn’t stop himself when eyeing all the old tastes he used to adore. Berries within a weaved container mixed with slices of apples, fresh, still warm breads safely hidden away in their own paper sleeves, and even a few, sweet smelling deserts wrapped up in cloth that is pulled from the last bag. A mixture of other assorted foods are hidden within the bunch, mostly cold, still raw meats that are being tucked away into the freezer to keep, along with Leandro’s own supply of blood that secures its own section of the fridge to chill. 

Armiin stands, watching curiously as the papered bags are folded up and tucked to their own corner of the counter top, his partner then sauntering back to the table and both men are locking eyes. The Hunter’s lips press to a thin line, a glance to the various food items, then back up again to his beloved that only offers yet another waning grin and a fold back of shorter ears. 

“I fear most of this is go-going to go b-bad.” 

He finds himself sounding guilty, knowing that Leandro had the best intention in mind, but also knowing, that he was the only one in the home to even be able to taste the items. There’s a quick moment of silence between the pair, contemplating the situation at hand, and all while Armiin finds himself lost in thought, the sound of chair legs dragging against the cold flooring brings him back to reality. Lashes flutter with a handful of rapid blinks, noticing then that Leandro had sat himself at the table, and an arm is stretched along the width of the wood to motion at the chair opposite from him. A subtle tilt of his head and Armiin’s lips purse, jagged teeth pulling against his lower lip before complying and settling in the seat across from the elven blond. 

Silence within the household wasn’t uncommon, it was comforting, actually, so when Leandro goes about unwrapping the goods with diligent fingers, his love is captivated with merely watching and gazing across the tabletop. All day could the raven haired man find himself captured by the beautiful glimmer of those rare blue eyes, so much so that when something cold touches his lips Armiin just about jumps out of his skin. The table gives a noticeable shift and his chair creaks with the sudden movement, a soft, kindhearted yet amused bout of laughter heard from who it was that touched his lips. 

“Sorry--I didn’t mean to startle you. Can you open your mouth?”

A dark brow raises, ever curious, though eventually his questions are answered when following that request, pale lips parted and teeth apart, the cold air in his mouth soon replaced with something smooth and sweet. Teeth clamp, removing the treat from its stem before able to properly taste, and soon, he’s knowing of what it is. Cherry. There wasn’t a pit, either, so never was there the worry of biting in too hastily. 

“How’s it taste?”

Leandro questions, another piece of fruit already in his fingers and stretched forward, and as soon as Armiin swallows, the second cherry is offered. Graciously does the Hunter accept, sinking teeth into the uncommon treat; ever thankful now that Leandro had been so generous. 

“It’s...sweet, and fresh, a li-little tart. No--no pits, either.”

A smile is shared, and then another cherry, and it becomes almost like clockwork where Armiin would taste, and Leandro would ask about the sensation and texture. Though, soon enough, something else replaces the crimson fruit, and instead a crunchy slice of an apple is bitten into. The Hunter hums in delight, his very favorite snack accepted with all the gratitude he could muster, and without Leandro even needing to ask, he speaks. 

“Sw-sweet and juicy, ve-very fresh. Crunchy.”

Lips curl into a devilish smirk along the San’layn’s features, pleased to see his partner enjoying himself so. In between bites of apple Leandro sneaks in a few raspberries and blueberries, finding Armiin pleasantly surprised each time with the sudden change in texture. 

A few minutes pass, Leandro gingerly feeding Armiin who did so without any complaint, enjoying the rare time to indulge in something other than roasted meats and canned vegetables. That little basket of fruits is slowly but surely emptied, and the man of corruption is lapping at the points of gnarled teeth, another soft hum of delight rumbling deep within his chest. 

“--Good?”

The Darkfallen questions softly, fingertips trailing across the table to seek a pale hand to curl with, the Hunter nodding then in return with a sheepish smile all of his own. 

“Very. I--I didn’t even know these were in--in season.”

His observation is met with another chime of laughter, Leandro nearly flushed with the joy that settled in his chest, sharing something as seemingly mundane as treats with his Husband, despite not being able to try them himself. It made things feel just a little bit more normal. 

Armiin is expected to stand then, to help Leandro tuck away the remaining perishables, though, before he can even make the motion to stand, there’s a soft tuft of bread that’s being offered his direction. Eyes shift, blink, and shoulders slowly fall back to relaxation as he settles, leaning forward just enough to catch the baked good between his teeth. The San’layn is nit-picky now, refusing to tear away the hard crust and instead, picking out only the fluff to offer his loved, and Armiin has no complaints about it. 

Now, he found it more difficult to describe the taste--it was bread, what was there to say? Yet, his partner seems to have no qualms, no longer asking the previous questions and simply feeding the Hunter bit by bit. It feels a bit silly, leaning over the tabletop to steal food from his husband’s fingers, yet, something about it was almost...flattering. 

It takes longer now to finish off the given pieces, and even while the crust was discarded, it didn’t exactly make roll small. The pair chats idly, exchanging stories of the day, and in between, teeth take pieces, and every so often, lips press kisses to chilled fingertips. The time passed is forgotten about, but eventually, there’s only a pile of bread hunks with most of the soft insides picked out. Armiin exhales, leaning back in his seat with a small stretch, a sudden exhaustion washing over thanks to the full feeling in his stomach. 

“This is m-much better th-than canned so-soup.”

Armiin jests, leaning forward then with arms crossed and rested to the table; sure, fruits and breads weren’t your typical ‘meal’, but, it sure was satisfying. There’s a softness exchanged between lovers, and Leandro’s palms are pressed against the table to lean himself over, seeking a pair of scarred lips to steal a kiss from. 

“I bet you taste good.”

The words are exhaled into that kiss, and in that same instant do pale cheeks flare with undertones of crimson and gray, laughter bubbled and swallowed down when their lips part. Leandro sits back with a triumphant grin, and Armiin begins wiping at his face in fear that crumbs may have stuck; but luckily, there were none.

Settling back to his seat, the lithe man gives a slight lean back forward, eyeing Leandro as he goes about tugging over those wrapped pastries; and suddenly, Armiin’s eyes were feeling far larger than his stomach. A palm instinctively drops from the table to hover over his middle, brushing up the hemming of his shirt to trail over the scarred flesh that was somewhat taut; full already from the simple foods. Though, it was difficult to reject Leandro when he’s lifting the plastic fork that came with the goodies, digging the pronged ends into a slice of rich, chocolate cake; the darkly baked piece being lifted up with a hand beneath, being sure no crumbs fell to the table. 

As it’s offered over Armiin sits up a little straighter, and with waning gratitude, bites onto the utensil to scrap the piece into his mouth. It melts on his tongue, and the rich, gooey chocolate is blissful after following the dry feeling left over by the bread. 

“Mm--...this is re-really good.”

Armiin sighs out, sure to swallow the mouthful before he spoke. Eyes close briefly, relishing in the taste that he rarely was able to enjoy.

“They said it was the best, but I think they were exaggerating.”

Leandro states bluntly, and already is another forkful being held up to Armiin’s mouth, and without much thought is it taken and enjoyed. The desert goes down relatively easy, and the piece is gone within minutes, dazed by the sugary goodness to realize that he was finishing off all that Leandro had bought. Well, at least it wouldn’t end up going bad. Now, though, the tight feeling in his belly was a little more noticeable, and again is that hand slipping down to gently rub at his side. He sighs out, leaning his head back as that bite of exhaustion returns for a second round. 

“--How are you feeling?”

The Darkfallen’s curiosity piques, leaning forward now with chin rested to palms, shimmering hues flickered up and down as he watches the Hunter nearly slip into a food-caused coma. He can’t help the smirk that curls to the corner of his lips, watching as Armiin enjoyed some of his past, favorite foods.

“Full.”

Armiin states simply, closing his eyes for a few moments as the sluggish feeling sinks in. Now, he was really ready for a good nights sleep. 

Long, pale ears twitch, focusing on the sound of Leandro’s chair being pulled out that’s only replaced then by a few footsteps, and before he can register, there’s two arms draped over broad shoulders. One of Armiin’s eyes crack open, peering up at Leandro with a lazy smile, and the expression is rewarded with a kiss to the forehead. While one hand keeps itself placed upon a shoulder, the other slips to Armiin’s side; resting gingerly over his clothed waist before fingers trail and kindly rub over the hunter’s full stomach. He finds himself shuddering over the touch, a little off guard--but it was taken with stride, and a relief floods over to those soft fingers offering the gentle comfort. 

“Better?”

“B-better.”

[dreamfoiled]

OC FACT SWAP - Leandro loves when Armiin falls asleep shirtless! Isse can’t tie his own shows or suit ties or anything like that worth a DAMN. Taon is virgin as fuck despite how bangin he looks and is rather asexual though capable of romance if intrigued enough!

OC fact swap - accepting!

Armiin on the other hand is accustomed to sleeping in full armor and feels more protected that way; though, of course, doesn’t get into bed head-to-toe in his leathers anymore, a simple t-shirt and baggy pants are good enough. 

Dulath, despite hating to be wrapped up in a ‘monkey suit’ is the master of tying ties because of his upbringing in a rather studious household. He can clean up  pretty damn nice if he actually tried, but, he doesn’t. The less clothes the better. 

Gryfith is completely captivated by the romance rituals of all these new races--Orcs showing off their strength for their mate? Goblins and their horrific pick up lines? Humans exchanging flowers and a dance? It makes his heart leap and he dreams to have some sense of this new romance for himself; he’s free from his own people, why not explore the new?

[dreamfoiled]

Needed Armiin with a flower crown for the event. 

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And Armiin gets one as well! He’s part Grimm cause well, it just fit. I also don’t know how to draw masks. 

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Did I ever post Void Elf Armiin? No? Well here he is ‘cause now I have him made in-game.