#daidukul x magnai

[zwei-rhunen]

hien x daidukul confirmed

CHEATER

uh oh

ngl i gave such a look at the screen

magnai what the fuck

YSHTOLA WHAT THE FUKV LMAO

and on that day she aged 10 years lmao

[nilboxes]

Updated with chapter 3 and 4

Really long personal ramblings regarding the writing of these two chapters below--

-

I basically did a lot of set up for these two chapters, hinting at a bunch of negative stuff the Buduga went through prior to Daidukul becoming khan. The idea about the necklace was something I came up with on the fly writing the backstory of Arkhai (Xaela Nil) and like, maybe trying to come up with some neat explanation of why Daidukul in game wears those.

I figure since it's been about sixty years since Arkhai died and became one of the Ruentides and he died when he was about late twenties, making it nearly a hundred years from that time to the Buduga tribe that Daidukul and the rest are in now.

I imagine the Buduga of Arkhai's time raided a lot, but also were more adept at taking care of whatever they raided for so their raids are less but more ferocious and more well planned, compared to Daidukul's time when I think they are less capable of taking care of their livestock because the khan before Daidukul was reckless and got the tribe their less than stellar reputation they have as canon.

I also had to infer a lot of Daidukul's personality and background since the writers in SE basically gave us nothing. Daidukul doesn't talk much except to spew facts at us (basically 0 personality) so I thought, idk, he looks like a happy-go-lucky kinda guy but that's just the surface. He probably liked Magnai from the get-go when they meet and I imagine he would not be exceptional to Magnai had he been just another Magnai Most Radiant Fanboy. Alongside some NPC talk I cannot currently locate, the Buduga tend to go for really prank-ish or really wild tactics, I imagine Daidukul has a bit of a jokester side of him. So, Daiduku—easy-going, level-headed, think first punch later kinda guy. A little bit of sarcastic humor. He is also not conceited about his abilities, so he can balance out Magnai, but I definitely think he can seriously throw down and likes to end the battle as fast as he could via limb breaking. I don't think he always necessarily fights fair either. I do strongly think he practices conjury, and is good at it, but he just prefers not to do it when there are others in the tribe who can do it a tad better. He likes to drink and can hold it well and gets himself bottles of foreign alcohol drinks if he comes by extra personal money.

From there I figure, he's a khan who leads with a gentler hand, but is not a pushover. He also values the input of others in his tribe, like elders and Hooshal, but isn't a pushover as to follow whatever he's told.

Funny bit about Hooshal I always thought he was such a debbie downer and wrote him like that lol but I got a little miffed this guy gets more personality than Daidukul's lines which was just "I like men" ya we get it SE.

Magnai is actually tough to write when he isn't putting on airs as I feel he is when he is shown in the game idk. I imagine him to have coped poorly with being put on a pedestal so young by the tribe's men from early childhood since the men heaped praises on him, while I think the women wrote him off because he's off to be one of the men.

So while Magnai doesn't lack for admiration and affirmation, I think he doesn't really get much real down to earth interactions, save maybe with Baatu but that man is to be married in this timeline and I hope to explore some more how sort of isolated Magnai feels to be so apart from everyone else because he is the oldest.

I brought Erdaa (his youngest older sister) in to kind of be able to explore how he'd be when someone who doesn't see him as a walking and breathing legend. I imagine to people he's comfortable with he's a bit of a grump, bratty, but ultimately has good intentions for those he cares about. The fact that he likes sweets is a headcanon of mine, idk, I think it's really funny if he was insecure about a really innocuous thing that doesn't fit in with the Oronir vision of their ideal man, which I think is some sort of ultimate warrior who eats his steak blue (not even rare lmao).

Now, getting the two main people in order, I had to go about writing the characters who support them, which comes to me more easily. I think of the ways in which supporting characters can do just that, support. Either they bring out something in the main characters, act as a foil or a parallel. I had a lot of fun writing and thinking about Erdaa, who I feel is hard on Magnai so he doesn't forget to pull his head out of his ass once in awhile. I bet she teased the hell out of Magnai after the gathering of the women and the 3 day fight with Sadu as told in the official short story and Magnai probably will think 3x before listening to his Oronir Brothers' wild suggestions lmao

For the next chapter, I think it'll be a focus on how well Daidukul and Magnai work together and possibly solidify a friendship. Nothing fast tracks that more than spilling a bunch of blood and stopping some Garleans I bet.

[elfyourmother]

Baisemain, Gisele x Hien

Baisemain: a kiss on the hand.

Try as she might to focus upon the increasingly blurry words of the grimoire upon her lap, Gisele could not help but brood upon an altogether different sort, uttered by her present captor in all their casual, cruel disdain. Again and again, she heard them echoed through her weary mind, the death of her pride wrought in a thousand cuts.

Ethereal, you are not.

It had been such a blessedly long time since she was last made to feel so small, so insignificant, as she had that day before the Dawn Throne, by one who deemed himself the very Sun, such was his arrogance; mayhap so long that she had forgotten precisely what it was like, to endure the searing agony of such humiliation from a man who so deemed himself her better. Not even traitorous Ilberd made her feel this way, upon the harrowing night he shoved her to the gilded marble floor of the Sultana’s Palace, and named her with wanton, barbarous falsehood a murderess and regicide before the whole of the Alliance. Cruel and ignominious as it was, that was merely politics.

Magnai Khan’s affronts were personal.

Gisele lifted the heavy lid to shut the tome with a soft, gentle thud, before salty droplets marred the enchanted ink; they fell as the spring rains, instead, upon the leather cover, as she bowed her head. Fearing to damage it, she set the book beside her, upon the rough pallet of prickly straw, and drew her knees up to her chest, to rest her weary brow upon them.

How long had it been since a man so reviled her, and paid her such an insult? Mayhap she had deluded herself into thinking she had at last escaped the indignities she’d suffered as an Elvhen of Thedas, as an Elezen reborn to Eorzea, where pointed ears did not condemn one to a life of base struggle for survival in a world which despised and oppressed. Mayhap there was no escape for a woman such as her, no solace, no respite, from those who would measure her against their own baseless prejudice, and find her wanting. The beauty she so carefully polished to a shine in all her pride and vanity would never be enough; she would never be enough, for a world who saw only the Warrior of Light, the instrument of destruction. And in so brooding, did the bright edge of despair cut her deep, as deep as Magnai’s words.

She hated herself for it. 

Weeping softly into the heavy skirts of her robes, she only scarcely heard rapping upon the door over the sound of her own whimpering sobs, but it soon turned louder, an insistent pounding against the thick wood. Gisele looked up sharply, to see the door fly open. The Oronir watcher set to guard her tiny, spartan chamber was on the other side of it—along with a familiar and handsome face.

“Hien…” Gisele murmured with a sniffle, wiping her nose with the back of her billowing sleeve. She bit her lower lip, attempting in vain to stem the flood of her tears. For though her heart felt somewhat lighter, at the sight of him upon the threshold to her cell—for that was truly what it was—she nonetheless despaired at him seeing her this way, disheveled and weeping. A silent exchange, then, between Hien and the Oronir, upon which the door shut behind him, leaving him alone with her.

“I came to inquire after you, and mayhap not a moment too soon,” Hien said softly.

“Oh, Hien,” Gisele whimpered, swallowing down the lump within her throat. “How fares Haurchefant?”

“He fares well, though Daidukul’s men keep him under a most watchful eye. Do not despair for him, though. I have the beginnings of a plan,” Hien reassured her with a wry little smile.

“Oh?”

Hien shook his head. “I am still working out the details. It is you who I fear for, however, my friend. You seemed uncharacteristically reticent, in our last audience with Magnai. And…unsettled.”

The warmth in his soft-eyed gaze was enough to scatter all thought or care for her wounded pride; instead, she reached for him, wordlessly, with a silent plea in her own eyes, in simple yearning for comfort. Gazing upon her in such a manner as he did then, gentle and tender, it was all she wished, in truth. If he was at all startled by her gesture of silent beckoning, he did not permit it to show, and so he crossed the cold stone tiles, slowly closing the distance between them. But he stopped before the low cot upon which she sat, an unspoken question in his eyes; ever the Doman gentleman he was, with propriety at the forefront of his mind, it seemed.

Gisele gazed up at him. “I have been too alone with mine own thoughts,” she said quietly. “Pray, my lord, stay with me a while, that I must be no longer.”

Hien nodded, and dutifully sat down beside her. “Do you wish to speak of them?”

“Yes, but…” Gisele’s words trailed off, fading into a sigh, as she lowered her knees, planting her boots back upon the cold, stone floor. How might she find the words to tell him the pain Magnai inflicted upon her was mere salt in wounds opened upon another world entire?

“I mean to offer neither shame, nor judgment, dear lady,” Hien said. “Only comfort, and a listening ear, if I may—and I am not too bold.”

“I do not think you too bold; to the contrary, I am glad for it,” Gisele replied. She lowered her eyes upon her own mildly trembling hands, and they curled into fists, as she wrapped her arms about her fluttering belly. “I only fear I cannot find the eloquence to reveal my thoughts, as such.”

Hien pursed his lips a moment, his thick black brows furrowed deep in thought; always, he was so thoughtful, and measured in his words. For not the first time, Gisele was minded of Aymeric, gazing upon him so, all while awaiting his counsel with baited breath. But Hien turned to her with searching eyes full of compassion, and they fair gleamed in the dim torchlight of the tiny chamber.

“He wounded you, did he not, when he said you could not be the nhaama for whom he has so endlessly searched?”

“He did,” Gisele confessed, tightening her arms about herself, clamping her eyes shut against the fresh wave of hurt. She took a deep, unsteady breath, and another, her gazed still averted. “I care little and less for that arrogant brute. Of a surety, do I find him exceedingly distasteful--though I surely would have grit my teeth and lain with him if I believed it would purchase our freedom.”

Hien stiffened, his brow furrowing once more. “I would have never asked such a thing of you,” he said sharply.

“I have done worse things, when needful, for the sake of survival,” Gisele said, with a light shrug, turning her gaze back upon him at the last. “Though it matters not. And I do not care if he thinks me his precious nhaama or no. I would not disparage this ancient custom, but I simply cannot fathom this belief that there is but one divinely ordained companion for each soul—it is anathema to my very being, I who am wed to three men whom I cherish in equal measure, even as I know the love of an extraordinary woman. Love is far too limitless to me, Hien, to believe it divinely confined to a meager one pair at a time. Mayhap for the Oronir, and for others, but not I, who love so freely. For me, it is a lie, and a suffocating one besides. I am who I am, and I do not pretend otherwise.”

Hien nodded gravely, his eyes narrowing as he did. “I suspected as much. But he made a mockery of your womanhood, with his words.”

“Yes. And you cannot know how deeply.”

Hien tilted his head, and there was naught but empathy within his lovely eyes. “Permit me to try, my friend.”

Gisele sighed, burying her tear-stained face within her hands for a long moment, wondering once more how she might convey her feelings to him. In the end, she would not dissemble—she could not fathom doing so to Hien, and silently recoiled from the thought—but, rather, choose her words with care, for she did not have the strength to lay her past bare in all its ignominy, not now.

“Ah, Hien…from the start, Magnai has minded me of ill treatment. In these menial tasks he has set us to doing, and in his disparagements, have I felt the phantom pains of my ill-gotten youth. In his words, did I hear the echoes of oh so exalted men who degraded me for a mere accident of birth—mine pointed ears, the rich hue of my skin. In my homeland, we were used and discarded by the Hyur nobility, we Elezen called elves, according to their whims. Such was the natural way of things, you see. Whether it be keeping their estates, or nursemaiding their children, or serving them in their pleasure houses, such was our value. And in my homeland, elven women like I were never afforded the honors—nor the protections—of maidenhood. As our oppressors would tell it, we had none to be so mocked. We were not women, we were mules, and our lot was mean servitude, little better than the slavery our ancestors knew. That I was taken as a sickly and starving child from the slum in which I was born to learn my Art within a gilded cage mattered little. Such was the world into which I was born. The Circle offered me a far better life, and I seized it gladly, but always were there strings attached,” she said, and it was perishingly difficult to keep the bitterness from seeping into her weary tone.

That he heard it did not mean he would chastise her for it; Hien was, as always, a man of his word, and offered only his succor. “Gisele…I did not know the wound ran so deep,” he said softly. “Forgive me.”

“Nor did I, I think,” Gisele admitted. “But such is the nature of wounds, yes? All my life, I have cultivated beauty as much as intellect, feeling pride in equal measure for them, for they were the only riches I possessed. I basked in beauty, and gave it freely, according to mine own whims; aye, I pursued pleasure as I would, even as a youth in the Circle of Magi. Why shouldn’t I? It was my solace, and even if I had not, my peers would have still deemed me little more than a painted, knife-eared whore. Women like me are precious to no one, where I come from—my childhood friend was abducted upon her own wedding day, Hien. The same men of privilege who set their hounds upon us as children for their amusement took her to the Arl’s manor. I only learned of it when I returned home at last, seeking rumors of intrigues there. Some few escaped, but my Serena was not among them, and fell upon her own blade in shame. And I thought of these things, when Magnai spoke, naming me good only for violence and brutality—I thought of Ser Cullen, the templar who lusted for me all through my adolescence in the tower even as he was my jailor, only to curse me as a mere ‘thing’ he could not have. The Hyur men of my homeland oft think of us this way, even as they lust for us, for I believe it makes it simpler for them to use us as they will—it eases their consciences. We would never be ‘moon’ to anyone, we misbegotten daughters of the Alienage, how could we? And when Magnai spoke that way, I swear that for the first time since I left that wretched country, I was reminded that no matter my beauty, no matter my silver tongue, no matter my intellect or my skill at arms and magic, I am never truly seen as aught else but that painted, knife-eared whore, a mere thing to be used, be it as a weapon, a nursemaid, or aught else.”

At last, she shuddered once more, burying her face in her hands; thus was her pain laid bare, and if Hien did not have the particular context necessary to understand in full the source of her pain—neither did he particularly need it, for Gisele felt his strong arms wrap about her, his meaty, calloused palm resting upon her wealth of white curls to draw her against him; by the Fury might it have been awkward with anyone else so much shorter, but he made it work nonetheless, in his customary grace and dignity. It unraveled her in the end, the tenderness with which he held her, and Gisele fell to weeping once more, sobbing into the fur trim of his shoulder. The bitterness of her grief and sorrow crashed against him as storm-tossed waves, but he was as steadfast as a rock upon the shore, and did not waver.

“That is not who you are, Lady Gisele des Fortemps,” Hien said, stroking her hair, her back. “The evil men in the land of your birth lied to you—as Magnai did. They are weak and simpering men, limited by their own small minds, and blind as bats by their own prejudices. Blind they all must be, for it is beyond my ken that any should look upon you and see aught but the gentle maiden you are. Aye, you are the woman who brought low the Black Wolf of Garlemald—and ended Ishgard’s thousand years of woe, as Haurchefant sings your praises. The world has never seen such a slayer of Eikons as you. But you are so much more, my lady. Your worth lies not merely in these things, nor even in your healer’s hands. And these things were not what I saw, when first I met you beneath the stars of Reunion, and thought Kisshōten Herself had deigned descend from heaven to answer Doma’s prayers.”

“Kisshōten?”

“Ah, forgive me. She is one of the many kami whom we honor in Doma. To Kisshōten do we pray for good fortune, and a good harvest, for She is known for Her great wealth and beauty. At least...we did before the coming of Garlemald, and the destruction of our shrines by the imperials,” Hien explained. “No matter. What does a man such as Magnai Khan know of gentility? As much as a dzo, I think. He shall stumble in the dark a long time searching for his moon, Brother Sun will, if he is so blind to think my Lady Fortemps any less than gentle.” Gisele felt his body, warm and taut, tremble with the force of sudden chuckling. “I heard you singing for the lambs.”

Gisele giggled a bit sheepishly, burying her nose in his thick, black hair. “Our husband Estinien was a shepherd lad, before he became a knight. Betimes he sings that song in his sleep, even now. Tis how I learned it.”

“Twas a sweet song,” Hien said softly. “Made sweeter by she who sang it. Magnai is a fool. I shall make of him a useful one, by the kami, but a fool he is nonetheless.”

Hien gingerly disentangled himself from her arms to rise from the bed, only to sink down to one knee before her. “And he will answer for this insult upon the Naadam field, by my honor and by Doman steel.” He paused, grinning up at her rather wryly. “And Ishgardian, I am certain. Tis best perhaps that Lord Haurchefant was kept busy with Buduga tests of strength, for I am certain we would have been tossed from the Dawn Throne for what he would have done to Magnai had he heard such offense.”

Gisele laughed, at the thought of it. “Not before he tossed Magnai first. Mayhap tis rather unfortunate he was not present, then.”

“Such haste, though deeply understandable, would have done little to aid the cause of Doma, though, no?” Hien asked, raising his brow.

“Of course not. But it would have been dreadfully satisfying, don’t you think?”

Hien echoed her laughter with his own. “Aye, that it would! I must confess I might have helped with the tossing, in such an event. Only the kami would know how much I yearned to, at any rate.”

“Did you, then?”

He rose to his feet and returned to sit beside her once more, then reached up with a gentle hand, brushing away a stray, silvery ringlet from Gisele’s brow with a single finger. When he tucked it then behind her pointed ear, her cheeks bloomed flush with sudden warmth. “When I spied the wound in your mien, I did. But even more, I wished to offer you solace. That reminds me…”

Gisele glanced down curiously, as Hien reached into the purse at his belt, beside his fine, lacquered scabbard, and pulled back a tightly held fist. He raised it before her, unfurling his calloused fingers to reveal a blossom of breathtaking beauty.

“Hien…” Gisele gasped softly, marveling in awe at the complex gradients of color within its long, narrow petals—violet fading to lavender, into lilac, with a pistil of purest white at the heart of them.

“Tis a tiger iris…they bloom upon the Steppe in spring, through the summer. I found this one, thriving in a rocky crevasse within Bardam’s Mettle, and it struck me as I gazed upon it that I had seen such a color before,” Hien explained. “For it reminded me of your eyes. Pray, forgive me once more, if I am too bold—I feared I would never find an opportune moment in which to present it to you, before it perished, but felt it might brighten your evening.”

“You are not too bold, my lord,” Gisele said softly. “Never.”

Hien smiled, and reached up to tuck the tiny, slender stem of the iris within the collar of her robe; then, he took her by the hand, with exceeding gentleness, and raised her fingers to his lips, pressing them long and hard against them. Gisele was glad to be seated then, for her knees quivered like jelly at the sensation, and his warm breath dancing across her knuckles.

“You deserve such tribute, Gisele,” Hien said softly. “Do not doubt it. And do not doubt that you are more than the Warrior of Light, as strong as she is. You are Gisele des Fortemps, beloved of men and women, a lady of quality, of surpassing wit and the rarest beauty. You are a gentle maiden, whose blade dances in the morning mist, and—”

His lips caressed her fingers once more, pressing the tenderest of kisses into them.

“You are ethereal.”

Hien released Gisele’s hand from his grasp, but he lifted his gaze then, and Gisele found it all too simple a thing to believe in his words, such love was shone in it, his heart in his voice; his lips drifted from her fingers, up to her mouth, and he removed all doubt.

[thecat-inthehat]

Well! This is actually the first year I’ve participated, and I managed to get all of the prompts done, with only 1 being submitted on a make up/free day. I’m still kinda shocked that I actually managed to pull through and do it all, especially with starting work back up again. 

I will eventually be putting most of these up onto my Ao3 account, but for right now this is where they are. 

Stats! Total word count: 30,965 words Total prompts completed: 29 (used a free day to catch up on one prompt) Shortest prompt: 11. Ultracrepidarian (408 words) Longest prompt: 30. Splinter (3,391 words) Average prompt length: ~1,067 words

Things that surprised me: -How much I wrote. I know I’m a wordy motherfucker but damn. Almost 31k? - The amount of WoL AU I wrote. I guess it’s been eating my brain more than I thought.  - I wrote Nive/Y’shtola smut. I wrote 2.5k of it.  -I also wrote predominantly Nive and Emet-Selch interacting. I was expecting to write more of Hel and Arbert, but I guess my brain refuses to write for those two.  - I managed to actually write some stuff for G’raha, getting over my whining about him to crank out content that I didn’t hate. (He is not a character I personally enjoy, so anything for him is quite hard) -

Personal Favorites

8. Clamor -- a Magnai Oronir piece that I wrote out of spite and annoyance, featuring Steppe politics, Daidukul and Magnai friendship, and a look at how the 7th Umbral Calamity affected other parts of the world. 30. Splinter -- An event for the Final Days that I’ve been slowly puzzling out for the entire month, centering around the abdication of the Fourteenth, and what kind of person Daedalus was. I had the bare bones of this about a month after 5.0 dropped, but it wasn’t until 5.3 that most of this solidified.  23. Shuffle -- A look at my personal Astrologian headcanons, as well as an extended chance for the girls to interact on paper instead of my head. Also a chance to look at how Minfilia/Ryne interacts with my girls, instead of the generic options we have in game.  20. Novice -- Xylle is Sidurgu Orl’s reflection on the First and I am not taking criticism at this time. Do I ship her and Granson? Have I made an elaborate backstory for her and plotted out their slow burn? Mind your own business. 

Masterpost

The Daedalus Project (WoL AU)

1. Crux (2.0) | 2. Sway (2.x) | 4. Clinch (2.55) | 21. Foibles (4.0) | 18. Panglossian (5.0) | 9. Lush (5.0) | 23. Shuffle (5.0) | 3. Muster (5.0) | 25. Wish (5.0) | 28. Irenic (5.0) | 17. Fade (5.0) | 11. Ultracrepidarian (5.0) | 7. Nonagenarian (5.1+) | 14. Part (post 5.3)

The Daedalus Project: Anacrusis (pre-sundering era)

10. Avail | 15. Ache | 30. Splinter 

Magnai Oronir Propaganda

8. Clamor | 24. Beam 

Tikhomir Ajuyn 

5. Matter of Fact | 29. Paternal 

Shining Comet

16. Lucubration

Xylle Needs a Drink 

20. Novice | 22. Argy-Bargy

Pre-Dragonsong War 

12. Tooth and Nail 

Modern AU (Hel and Arbert centric)

6. Free day | 13. Free day 

Ironworks Shenanigans

26. When Pigs Fly 

Twinsouled

19. Where the Heart Is 

[lauranis]

Okay so like, this is just a lot of word vomit but it’s a bunch of my Magnai x Kei ideas so far. Some I want to get art of eventually.

So this whole AU idea started with this:

(image of Magnai saying: Am I fated to live my life as a sun without a moon? Is there no Nhaama for me...?) He even looks down at the floor when he says it, it made me so sad for him :c THUS THIS AU WAS BORN \o/

AU: Kei never leaves the Steppes.

The basic idea is Kei travels to both the Dawn Throne and Reunion to trade for his tribe so he’s well known in both places. He’s met Magnai a few times but never in a one on one situation so it’s just been like a quick greeting from Magnai, while Kei ofc tries to flirt with him but fails since Magnai is always too busy thinking of other things. It’s not until later when Kei needs to request some aid with a large monster harassing his tribe that he and Magnai finally have a proper face to face and it’s then that Magnai finally gets to look him in the eyes and finds his Nhaama in Kei’s gaze and Kei finds something in Magnai’s (Kei’s tribe doesn’t really have the same belief of destined mate as the Oronir but he can’t deny there is something there). Things get a bit hectic after that in the sense of like, Magnai being overjoyed he finally found his moon so he calls for a feast to be arranged, Kei laughing about it but gently insisting his tribe really needs help. Magnai gathers a group of warriors and leads them himself in the hunt for the beast and takes Kei along too, so he can meet Kei’s tribe and parents proper before he keeps Kei with him at the Dawn Throne.

Then my brain went into angst mode for the baraam that the WoL partakes in. This is a copy paste from when I threw this wall of text at @arayan-ffxiv lol.

Kei was there during the battle when the WoL claims power. He'd be like, in the back trying to keep Magnai safe, healing other oronir as they were injured. But then he gets a spear through his gut from behind and it fucks him up real bad as it gets pulled back out. He collapses and it's good that he does cause his attacker takes that as him being done for and they move on. Kei tries to call out for help but no one is close enough to hear him over the sounds of battle and moments later he passes out, one arm reaching out on the ground towards Magnai.

And it wouldn't be until after everything that Magnai can go look for him, despite him being concerned about Kei being missing during the battle against the garleans. When he finally finds him, Kei is barely alive, blood soaking the ground around him. It's one of the rare times anyone sees Magnai lose his composure as he pulls Kei into his arms, one hand desperately pressing on the wound, screaming for healers. The clan healers take Kei from him, rushing him back to the Dawn Throne as they begin healing him and after hours of wait, they tell him that they mended his wound the best they could but he lost a lot of blood so he might not survive the night.

-- My brain didn’t really give me more details than that but he does ofc survive and Magnai stays glued to his bedside to care for him.

Tho my brain did try to give me a scenario where it was an oronir that tried to kill Kei, using the battle to hide that it was them. Said oronir being part of a small group that didn't approve of Kei cause he was from such a seemingly weak tribe and they didn't like that the partner of their leader was a man (not in the anti-gay way, just more old fashioned of how will they continue Magnai’s bloodline). Then my brain went on to having Magnai find this out by sheer accident as he was out to clear his head during the night a few days after the battle, with Kei still dangerously weakened and unconscious. He happened to come upon a small group, the attacker included, of oronir who were talking about the attempted murder of Kei and how they should go about trying to finish him off. Magnai had to fight his gut reaction of KILL THEM MAKE THEM PAY DESTROY THEM and without alerting them he put their faces to memory and left, beginning to plan a way to find out how many people were in on this murder plot.

Thankfully my mind gave up on this scenario lmao, so this is like, a non-canon part of the AU.

More copy paste from discord with Ara.

Continuing with this au, i got the idea of Kei heading back to his tribe for a visit but he was ambushed on the way there by a rival tribe of the oronir and they tried to use him as some kind of leverage/trade thing to get to Magnai, it didn't really work of course and Magnai gathered his warriors to go get Kei back. When they found him, he'd clearly been beaten and Magnai just went berserk and they ended up nearly wiping out the tribe for harming Kei. Magnai was injured during the battle and when they got back to the dawn throne, Kei watched over him as they both recovered. Kei however healed up faster since his injuries weren't as severe and one night while Magnai was still sleeping, he decided to return to his tribe, leaving a note behind. In the note he said that while he loved Magnai more than anything, he couldn't stand being the cause of such trouble for him by remaining by his side so he was returning to his people. Magnai of course didn't take this news well and nearly re-opened his wounds trying to go after Kei the next day. The tribe healers had to sedate him to make sure he healed up before doing anything.

It's almost a week later when the healers finally deem him healed enough and he immediately sets off for Kei's tribe. When he arrives he finds out that Kei has secluded himself in a yurt hidden in a grove of trees by the river outside the village. It takes him a little while to find it and when he does, Magnai's anger over Kei leaving has built back up and he burst through the entrance ready to call Kei an idiot and other things for leaving, but his anger quickly evaporates when he finds Kei sprawled out on the floor, unconscious and surrounded by firewood he must have been carrying inside. Magnai quickly gets Kei up and into his bed, and when he finally gets a good look at him he can tell Kei has not been sleeping and touching his forehead he finds that he has a burning hot fever. The next few days Magnai spends taking care of Kei, trying to make sure he gets water in him and keeps him wrapped up in bed, Magnai also shares the bed with him when the fever shakes get bad to help keep him warm. Kei drifts in and out of consciousness during this, not really registering that Magnai is there. When Kei is finally better and wakes up, they have a proper talk about everything and Magnai convinces Kei to return to the dawn throne with him because he doesn't care about what so called trouble will happen, he just wants to be with Kei, his precious moon, no matter what.

Smutty side of the AU: sex on the throne, sex where Daidukul joins them and he and Magnai dp Kei, Magnai fucking Kei in plain sight of both tribes to claim him as his alone after one too many buduga try to flirt with Kei

And some more copy paste from discord.

My brain is trying to give me the terrible idea of Kei going out with some hunters of both clans and the group being ambushed by like mercenaries/borderline slavers that have been paid to grab any au ra they can get their hands on for some rich fuckbag who wants them as pit fighters.

One of the hunters would get away, badly wounded, but he'd make it back to the dawn throne to tell them what happened. Magnai practically explodes with rage that someone would dare take his moon. He and Daidukul gather up their warriors and go on the hunt for the kidnappers. It only takes them half a day to find them but even in that short time the hunters and Kei have clearly been beaten and hurt by some kind of magic, and they all have some kind of glowing shackles around their wrists and necks. At the sight of Kei huddled in the corner of a cage, some of his hair slicked down with blood, Magnai snaps and let's loose on the kidnappers with a fury none of his tribesmen had seen before.

There's little left but piles of gore and large puddles of blood when he's done. Some of the other warriors had already gotten Kei and the hunters out of the cages while Magnai was lost to his rage. When he finally calms, he is immediately at Kei's side and remains there until the healers separate them upon returning to the dawn throne.

After that whole mess I can see Magnai keeping Kei at his side at all times, even snapping at anyone that accidentally sneaks up on them, tho Kei always apologises for his behaviour while Magnai just grumbles and holds him close. It'd be a long time before Magnai dares let Kei out of his sight for any longer times.

Kei making flower crowns in the summers and he always gives Magnai a beautiful bright red and orange one. Daidukul gets one with different shades of blue, Baatu gets purples. He even makes tiny ones for the sheep sometimes out of flowers he knows they like so they have a little snack when it falls off them.

I like to imagine Magnai being a grump the first time cause how dare you adorn the sun with flowers but he sees how happy it makes Kei so he bites his tongue and eventually he looks forward to it because he loves watching Kei sit and weave the crowns together and seeing his brilliant smile as he goes around crowning people in the tribes.

And one summer Magnai tries making one in secret for Kei. It takes several tries and he's not really happy with it in the end but he presents it to Kei anyway cause he deserves having one made for him too. It's a little messy and some stems stick out here and there but Kei loves it and wears it for as long as he can.

I also figure they have a talk about Magnai's responsibility as khan to continue his blood line and since Kei obviously can't help him with that, they agree that they should find a willing lady to bear a child or two for Magnai that Kei will help him raise.

Magnai also manages to convince Kei to bed a woman to have a child of his blood too, cause he doesn't want sweet, gentle Kei to be the last of his line. Which Kei calls him silly for but he does agree to siring a child.

Tired Magnai trying to sleep in while Kei is helping start breakfast for the tribe and before he can get back to sleep, Kei's son and Magnai's twins (a boy and a girl) barge into the room and climb onto the bed to try to get him up.

Rewind a bit to when they are all toddlers and Magnai is exhausted and has fallen asleep on the throne with a twin in each arm. Daidukul off to the side as usual, unable to keep from smiling as he keeps an eye on the sleeping pile just in case one of the babies move. Kei has his son in a sling against his chest as he goes about his usual chores around the camp. Anyone who enters the throne room to speak to Magnai is immediately shushed and shoo'd out by Daidukul.

Both of them being awoken at night by the chorus of babies screaming and Kei is just like, utterly drained and throws a pillow at Magnai as he mutters a tired "your turn". Magnai throws the pillow back with a small smile before he leans over to press a kiss to Kei's forehead and then he goes to soothe the children.

As much of an attitude he puts out, I like to think he's super soft and gentle with his loved ones. Also it'd be funny to see how confused the tribes would be when they see him gently doting over Kei at the start of their relationship and then again when the kids are born.

The kids grow up to be great hunters, Kei's son inherits his father's knack for healing, Magnai's son becomes a skilled leatherworker and his daughter becomes the best tracker of the tribes. She also trains with an axe like Magnai and he beams with pride the day she beats him during their sparring.

That’s all I got so far lol

[questir]

♡ - OTP for your muse? // ⚔ - NOTP with your muse?

@auropengu​ / munday meme extraordinaire (accepting!)

Oh boy! Ships are my favorite subject in general!!

OTPS:

Keiho ( @rokuyari​ ) x Masaki

Thancred ( @spiritfold ) x Masaki

Sidurgu x Masaki

Jacke x Masaki…

Minfilia x Masaki (in a platonic relationship…)

NOTPS:

Magnai x Masaki

Daidukul x Masaki

Zenos x Masaki

Estinien x Masaki

[nilboxes]

Daidukul Buduga/Magnai Oronir, Slow Burn, Deep Dive A hunt for a lone mammoth and two tribes vying for the kill. Such an event marked the beginning of what would be an epic alliance between two tribes the Steppe had not seen in recent memory, and the beginning of the story of the tribes' khans.

Currently 2/? Chapters

Extended notes and more ramblings regarding the fic—

Can't believe I'm writing fic again. Much more comfortable playing with this level of established characters NGL lol Magnai is actually tough to write because he's arrogant and his dumbness is like a whole ass level. I hope I can fully grasp it in the fic, but it gets so cringe I can't handle it and have to reign it in a little myself idk

Daidukul is actually more fun to write and think about. He's not voiced and there's barely any NPC lines to work with. Kinda annoyed that even in the Encyclopaedia Eorzea his entry is more about the Buduga and not him. Literally blank slate man walking.

Sooo I crack my fists and get to work.

Which is funny expression to use because I seriously despaired over what kind of fighter he is only to realize he's a BARE HANDED puglist, which I thought was tad impractical for the roles I wanted to give him, but okay we'll make it work, we'll roll with it. It's not like these characters can't multiclass.

Aside from fighting with mostly just his fist (I gib him some actual puglist weapons like claws pls man you can't take on a mammoth bare handed) I also imagine him a little adept at conjury, if only because he was basically forced to get better it due to circumstance and perhaps something he picked up from his childhood, which makes the fact that all the Buduga, all of them, are not born into that tribe, kinda moving how they would form bonds and choose to be there, even if they end up there willingly or not.

Anyway I'm mostly a bit ??? if I can drag this slow burn out hard, the problem with this is that sure the UST is nice but when is it enough? Gotta think about it lmao