#courier verse

[owlespresso]

courier verse blurb. tags. a/b/o, luocha being a creep

“He gets to touch you more than I do.” Luocha sighs. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, hip and shoulder leaned up against the wall. He regards you with a critical, almost icy expression. It’s late evening. Blade’s just left under the cover of the dark, out the door and headed to Xipe knows where. The windows are cracked open to let in the spring air. The breeze carries on it the scent of peonies and plum blossom, fresh chrysanthemum. Recently planted. 

Blade is more often in your space than not, these days. He keeps his head on your shoulder, a hand on your knee. He looms habitually, breathing in your air and relishing in your shared space with more enthusiasm than you thought possible. As in, he almost smiles, sometimes.

You look at him flatly, a book spread open in your lap. You haven’t been reading it at all, too conscious of the room’s other two occupants. “...you’ve been inside me.”

“Try not to sound so dour about it.” Luocha pinches your cheek as he passes by. The window makes an audible thud as he pushes it closed. The room feels stuffy in an instant, with nowhere for the intermingled scents to go. You’ve been more sensitive to it, ever since Blade’s rut. It’d taken you aback, at first, realizing just how often they doused you like perfume. You almost wish you didn’t know. 

Luocha delicately pinches the fabric of the curtains to drag them shut. You turn your attention back to the text, attempting to understand the words rather than skimming them over. But his footsteps tread along the floor behind the couch. 

“You always…” It’s impossible to ignore him as he slows to a stop behind you, a hand reaching down to squeeze your shoulder. You can’t help it—you cringe. “cower when I get too close.” He says, voice dipping into a murmur. His arms slide around your shoulders, face pressed against the top of your head. There’s no disguising the deep inhale he takes, drawing you deep, rubbing his cheek against you. “Have I not treated you well? I would never raise a hand against you—you know that.”

His voice trills into a blissful purr, content just to hold you.

[atangledesire]

🍆 Bunnie to Tangle <3

She's just staring, and wondering if this was a mistake! But boy was her face red as red could be!

[kyngsnake]

vulpes i am on so many drugs right now can we please talk later

[uranium235s]

i intend to have them blended up then reseparated in the centrifuge .

[thedeadthree]

okok i think f*allout brainworms are in full swing now 🥀😵‍💫

[nuclearspring]

don't know if i'm going to get much writing done today because i'm exhausted but have a lazy sketch of betty

[shrugsstuff]

Dumb idea that came to me while playing FNV, after watching ATSV...

Ulysses: I created you! You created me👿!

Boone: Courier, why'd you create that guy☹️?!

Courier: I didn't..!

[bendwill]

❝how about you tell me one fact about you and i tell you one about me?❞

𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜. still open!

THIS WAS A LITTLE GAME MORTALS PLAYED, MIRAAK ASSUMED. One he'd never had a use for. Even in the time before Apocrypha, he had no reason to share anything about himself, no reason to create any cracks in a curated facade. Afterwards, a question simply didn't matter. The only One there was to learn about knew everything about him as it was, knew more about him than he knew about himself. Prompted now, Miraak wonders if he's ever exchanged even the most remote detail of his self freely. Secrecy and ambiguity had always been core assets. At times, a greater advantage than any devoured soul.

Rebuffing Gale's question is instinct, but he cinches it behind his teeth. Despite that learned instinct, he was still curious. His curiosity always was stronger than any sense of secrecy and ambiguity. It was the reason he was here, after all.

Miraak had paused when Gale posed the idea, fingers settled as a placeholder in the pages of the book in his lap. The Extended Phylogeny of Men, a tome read before in the past. Unbeknownst to his company, who was the reason he'd begun to pick into these related titles again. As if they even mattered to him, here. Nothing more than an attempt to sate that curiosity, as he often did.

He thinks sating it might be easier through spoken word than written, however.

“...Very well.” The First replies succinctly, briefly glancing at a page number before he snaps the book shut. Gale had his full attention now, though Miraak still takes a moment to think of something worth saying.

Funny ; he had no end of stories and he was an endless font of fact and knowledge but this comparatively effervescent man oft had a penchant for causing a distinct lack of words in him. Or at least a perceptible delay that otherwise did not exist.

Silently, he looks down at the book (one he'd been reading in a further attempt to glean what Gale was without directly asking him) still on his lap. Then he opens it up again, flipping to a page other than the one left off on. Opened up, he turns it around and slides it in the space between them. Miraak's gloved finger traces the page, stopping just above the word Atmoran. Ancient history.

“This is where I came from,” Finger moves over another word; Atmora, the 'land of truth'; a continent north of Tamriel where the first men originated in the ancient days. The ancestral land of the Nedic peoples; of Cyrodilians, Bretons, and Nords. Thought to be the ancestral land of all humans. “Before Tamriel. And here.” Only in a manner of speaking; he did not remember it. He never did. “I might yet be the only living Atmoran left in this world.” Technically living.

Hand still lingered against the page of the book, but Miraak's eyes, glowing and green, were locked intently on Gale. He's leaning in somewhat, bowed a little closer to the other mage's height. Expectant and searching.

He does not leave much time to ruminate. “Your turn.”

[amberedcorpse]

I wanna make an open starter for Duke...But first I need to figure out how to make it so he doesn't immediately get violent.

[wandercr]

her fingers flex around the glass of scotch on the bar in front of her. she senses more than sees benny arrive beside her. no matter what the courier says, she doesn't -- she won't -- trust the man, but she's been told to play nice, and eliana is nothing if not loyal to her friends.

❝ i've been thinking it over, ❞ she says without looking at him. ❝ the white gloves are cannibals, and the omertas are scumbags, so what are the chairman hiding beneath all the fancy suits and dead slang? ❞ she flings her hair over her shoulder, assessing benny with a raised brow. ❝ props for being the only place in this town i'll drink, at least. ❞ / @smoothmovesbaby

[scumbag-the-hedgehog]

Takes a sip from his trusty canteen.

[allthatisleftinthedark]

@offrozenmemoirs / cont.

With six nieces and nephews, you grew attuned to the delicate shifts in the moods of young ones. Granted, your cousin Kara's perception of her children is unmatched. Alas, frequent observations of the countless students at the library honed in reading the atmosphere better to moods and emotions.

Sunlight traces against the sharp claws hidden beneath caramel-and-white fur, the sheen sparkling in your amber-bright eyes.

"Means I don't have to talk much to figure out what goes in that head of yours, Madam Zarin," you explain, slightly rolling your wrist as your other paw dives into your side satchel. "Not to say that my findings are the most precise; that sophisticated and quick assuming isn't quite my specialty."

"Not as refined as intuition," you muse with a chuckle, "but something more accurate is a gut feeling."

As you rummage inside the pouch, digits brushing against a feathered quill, a compact inkpot, a scroll holding this week's tasks, and a handful of coppers, you think, 'No way I could've misplaced that. She'd get on my case if I did.'

Cheery in demeanor and still smiling, conversation with the young student is made effortlessly. Still, her subtle discomfort doesn't slip past you.

Glancing past Creed to the small courtyard leading to the library, you remark, "It feels like a whole other world when you're here, Creed, and this is how the world is." Ears flatten, "Time moves faster than people do, but you at least know the world works like this."

'People may move or never move on. The same way they can change or never change at all.'

Your ears suddenly perk up, "Ah, found it!" Your interjection briefly disrupts the conversation, but the discovery from the satchel remains a mystery.

Cupping the item in one paw and concealing it from Creed's prying eyes, your other paw's digits curl inward, revealing natural claws. "Food gets the brain going," you start, wrinkling your button-pink nose and forcing your claw through the mystery. "Mine hasn't been running quite as it should be. It's been running empty since my morning 'breakfast.'" Irises narrow into slits, tongue slightly hovering out of your maw from concentration.

The morning menu was always a rushed sip of coffee that stayed untouched until late afternoon. At that point, it was lukewarm and despicable for most to drink, but that made it all the better when you knew no one else would try to take a swig of something that was yours.

Trajectories for breakfast changed if there was the presence of a golden-eyed magus. Conjuring mage hands to chase after you with toast, tomato, or a tangerine! The lengths she'd go!

Wafting around the air, besides fresh air, was a hinted aroma of sweetness and zestiness. Peering beside the secretive feline is a curious sight: a growing ribbon of orange. Undisturbed and all connected, an impressive feat. A subtle thud comes as the gray cobblestone meets a vibrant friend: a tangerine peel.

"A quick snack on the way. That way this--" You begin, holding up a tangerine wedge in front of the student, positioning it to resemble a frown. "Can turn into this!" With a deft twist, you flip the tangerine to form a cheerful, crescent smile.

"Here you are," you place the fruit slice in Creed's palm. Eleven more juicy wedges await, enough for a shared moment of tangy delight.

[woodcries]

fallout kinsey doesn't have a permanent address of any kind, partially because her job usually means traveling long distances and getting people from one place to another safely, but also because her line of work makes a lot of people angry and she's not a fan of finding severed heads/other body parts on her doorstep. so most times she's going in between hotels and using abandoned camps and rest areas on the road

[atmbmbbaby]

Raina ( Courier six) tag dump

[revengexdriven]

[ FISH ] - our muses see fish. maybe for the first time.

@ratherxintense {fallout prompts}

She's been staring at it for about a minute and a half, now.

What had begun as a regular hunting trip became Keegan stopping off to gather water, and that became her utter fascination with the creature she'd spotted. She was squatting down by the edge of the water, canteen in one hand and makeshift water filter in the other, and for once, the ever-present furrow in her brow was absent. She looked... awed, watching the silvery little creature twist to and fro in the shallows.

🎲;; "...what in the goddamn...?"

[walkswastes]

        “I hope ya' enjoyed tha' show sweetheart!"'

☢ ╼ COURIER SIX ONE-LINER / MINI STARTER CALL! | @s4ith