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the-midnight-system · 3 years ago

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System Member List (!!Needs updating, this is not full list!!)

Each member has a link to a post about them if you click their name! (Unless we haven’t made it yet, of course!)

Arsyn/Demi/Cryptid | 🌘 | they/them, de/dexx/dexxr, any pronouns aside from she/her, he/him, ze/hir/hirs, or it/its | Core; age regressor

Kota | 👾, 💟, 🎮 | he/him, they/them | Host

Void | 🌌, ✨ | any pronouns | Sometimes emotionless

Seph | 💚, 📚 | he/him

Eon | 🧸 | she/her, they/them | Little

Bella | 💄 | she/her | Dormant

Ferris | ~Ferris, ♠️, 🪐 | they/them, it/its | Talks about itself in third person; shapeshifter

Ruby | ♦️, 🐉 | she/her, they/them, any neopronouns | Bipedal dragon-like creature

Exi/Eryx/Xianthus | ⚜️ | they/them, frost/frostself, ey/em/eir, she/her, possibly more

Error/Err | ⛔️ | no pronouns (just use Error’s name)

Beth | 🥀 | they/them, she/her, more? | Little/middle but acts older; mute/nonverbal 99% of the time

Aethealune/Aethea | 🔮, 🪶 | pronouns unknown | Look they literally just showed up one day, all we know is that they have big wings, possibly animal ears/tail, and some burn scars on their face

Nova | 🔭 | star/stars | Has a black cat form that star prefers to stay in

Fictives

Aspen Donnall | -Asp | he/him | OC introject (do not mention)

Rowan McLausten | 🐓, 💙 | they/them, fer/fern, fae/faer, xe/xem/xyr, ey/em/eir, mi/mim/mir, he/him | OC introject (mention lightly); age regressor

Leio Huntyr | 🏵 | he/him | OC introject; middle

Kennedy Corinne Hoffman | 🌄, ♌️ | ve/vem/veir, ze/hir/hirs | OC introject

Noah Olivares | ♿️, 🦽, ❤️‍🩹 | he/him | OC introject; physically disabled (right leg paralyzed, uses wheelchair)

Amie Huntyr | 🐈‍⬛, 🪨 | she/her, they/them, void/voidself, punk/punkself | OC introject

Keith Hopeweld | 🔵, ♣️ | they/them, blu/blue, quoi/quoir, sometimes he/him | OC introject

Cassi | ☣️, ❄️ | she/her, they/them | OC introject

Cody | 🩹 | they/them | OC introject (mention very lightly); an angel but only has one wing due to something happening in their source (don’t ask them about it)

Connor (considering name change) | 🀄️ | he/him, they/them, it/its, red/redself | OC introject of a friend’s OC (do not mention)

Grian | 🦜 | any pronouns | Grian’s Hermitcraft seasons 7 and 8; ageslider

NPC Grian/NPG | -NPG, NPG: | any pronouns | Doctorsiren’s Hermitcraft SnapshotAU (do not mention); middle

Remus | 🦑, 🐀 | he/him, it/its | Sanders Sides; ageslider

Janus/Deceit | 🐍 | he/him, they/them, any pronouns | Sanders Sides; words bordered in slashes are lies; ageslider

Virgil | 🕸, (Virgil) | he/him, they/them, xe/xem/xyr | Sanders Sides; ageslider

Patton | 🤍, 🍪 | any pronouns | Sanders Sides (do not mention); ageslider

Roman | 👑, ❤️ | he/him, she/her, they/them | Sanders Sides; ageslider

Logan | -Logan | he/him, they/them, xe/xem/xyr | Sanders Sides; ageslider

Remy | ☕️, 🤎 | he/him, they/them, ve/vem/veir, any pronouns | Thomas Sanders’ Vines and TikToks (mention lightly)/Sanders Sides fandom content; ageslider

Roman/Pride | <Pride~.*+>, 🗡, 🍒 | they/them, dark/darkself, prin/prince, shadow/shadowself, blade/bladeself | Sanders Sides fandom content (do not mention)

Roman | ▫️👑, ▫️❤️ | he/him, they/them, prin/prince | Sanders Sides fandom content of Patton and Janus keeping the twins apart as kids (do not mention); little

Remus | ▪️🐀, ▪️🦑 | he/him, they/them, it/its | Sanders Sides fandom content of Patton and Janus keeping the twins apart as kids (do not mention); little

Dee | -d | he/him, any pronouns | Haysgrove’s TSS Campfire AU (do not mention)

CF Remus Ruíz | 🍎, 🍏 | he/him | Haysgrove’s TSS Campfire AU

Logan Rowell | ⭐️, 🐈 | he/him | Haysgrove’s TSS Campfire AU

Vee Storm-Callaghan | 🦇, 🐌, 🦋, 🍄 | they/them, she/her, any pronouns | Haysgrove’s TSS Campfire AU; age regressor

Cf Patton | 🔷, 🐸 | he/him, xe/xem/xyr | Haysgrove’s TSS Campfire AU (mention lightly)

Dee/Jay/Invidia | 🌺, ❇️ | they/them, de/dexx/dexxr, fluctuating between she/her and he/him | Arsyn’s TSS College AU; age regressor

Logan Hill (College AU) | 📓 | he/him, they/them | Arsyn’s TSS College AU (mention lightly)

Vee Graden (College) | Signoff unknown | they/them, ve/vem/veir, xe/xem/xyr, ze/hir/hirs | Arsyn’s TSS College AU (mention lightly)

Anxiety | 🕯 | he/him, they/them | Arsyn’s TSS Cryptid AU

Logan the wolf boi | 🐺 | he/him, they/them, pup/pupself, wolf/wolfself | Arsyn’s TSS Cryptid AU; ageslider

Cryptid Thomas | -Cryptid!Thomas | he/him | Arsyn’s TSS Cryptid AU; shapeshifter

King Remus | ⚔️ | he/him, they/them, it/its, blood/bloodself | Arsyn’s TSS Fantasy AU; physically disabled (injured legs, uses crutches, as well as partially impaired hearing and vision)

King Deceit | Signoff unknown | he/him, they/them, snake/snakeself, ze/hir/hirs | Arsyn’s TSS Fantasy AU; physically disabled (blind in one eye)

Fantasy Patton | Signoff unknown | he/him | Arsyn’s TSS Fantasy AU

HG Roman | Signoff unknown | she/her, they/them, sword/swordself, prince/princeself | Haysgrove’s Canon Roman design

Agere Dee | 🌼, 🌸 | they/them, de/dexx/dexxr, fluctuating between she/her and he/him | Arsyn’s TSS Agere AU; age regressor

Agere Vee | ☯️ | they/them, xe/xem/xyr | Arsyn’s TSS Agere AU; age regressor

Agere Remus | Signoff unknown | he/him | Arsyn’s TSS Agere AU

Virgil (ALIP) | ⏳ | they/them, shade/shadeself, time/timeself, q/qself, void/voidself, he/him, possibly more | ResidentAnchor’s TSS A Lesson In Practicality AU (mention lightly)

Roman~.*+ | 🌀 | he/him, te/tem/tempest, storm/stormself, thun/thunder, possibly more | ResidentAnchor’s TSS A Lesson In Practicality AU (mention lightly)

Thomas/Heimis | 🔆, 🪄 | he/him | Arsyn’s TSS Hidden Heroes AU

Virgil/Zarcon | 🪡, 🍃, ♟ | they/them, void/voidself, xe/xem/xyr, shade/shadeself, he/him | Arsyn’s TSS Hidden Heroes AU (mention lightly)

Emile/Ereien | 🩺, 🧶 | she/her, they/them, fae/faer, he/him, any pronouns | Arsyn’s TSS Hidden Heroes AU (mention lightly); ageslider

Virge | 🎸 | they/them, xe/xem/xyr | Arsyn’s TSS Band AU

Virgil | 🔓 | he/him | Fangirltothefullest’s TSS Centaur AU (mention lightly)

??? | 🐍🌩 | they/them, xe/xem/xyr | Arsyn’s TSS Fusion AU (do not mention); using source name Javi until they find a better fitting name

Stallis | 👑🐍 | they/them, she/her, he/him, any pronouns | Arsyn’s TSS Fusion AU

Reyton | deciding between 🌩🗡 or 🌩🐀 | he/him, they/them, it/its, xe/xem/xyr, punk/punkself, fuck/fuckself | Arsyn’s TSS Fusion AU (mention very lightly); habit of cursing a lot so please let them know if a little or someone uncomfortable with cursing is around

Kai | 💙🖤 | they/them | Arsyn’s TSS Fusion AU (mention lightly)

Nico di Angelo | 💀, ♠️, 🇮🇹 | he/him, they/them | Percy Jackson book series

Will Solace | ☀️, 🌻, ⚕️ | he/him | Percy Jackson book series

Thalia | ⚡️ | she/her, they/them | Percy Jackson book series (do not mention)

Reyna | 💜, 🏛, 🇵🇷 | she/her | Percy Jackson book series (do not mention)

Hazel Levesque | 💎, 🟣 | she/her | Percy Jackson book series (mention lightly)

Percy Jackson | 🔱, 🌊 | he/him, they/them | Percy Jackson book series

Annabeth Chase | 🦉, 📖 | she/her, they/them | Percy Jackson book series (mention lightly)

Clarisse | 🐗 | they/them, she/her, blade/bladeself | Percy Jackson book series (do not mention)

Meg | 🌳 | they/them, for/fores/forest, fer/fern, flor/flora, fae/faer, she/her | Percy Jackson book series (mention lightly); middle

Magnus Chase | 🌿 | he/him, they/them | Magnus Chase book series

Alex Fierro | 💗💚 | fluctuating between she/her and he/him | Magnus Chase book series

Hearthstone | 🌱 | he/him, they/them, fer/fern, flor/flora, hearth/hearthself | Magnus Chase book series (mention lightly)

Carter Kane | Signoff unknown | he/him, they/them, possibly more | Kane Chronicles book series (mention lightly)

Sadie Kane | ⚱️ | she/her, they/them, possibly more | Kane Chronicles book series

Anubis | 🖤, ⚰️ | he/him, they/them, it/its | Kane Chronicles book series

Bast | Signoff unknown | she/her, they/them, kit/kitself, cat/catself | Kane Chronicles book series

Atramentous Nico di Angelo | 🔪, ⛓ | he/him, they/them, possibly more | Ashes/Catradora-kiss’s Percy Jackson Atramentous AU (do not mention)

Atramentous Nico di Angelo 2 | 💫 | he/him, they/them, possibly more | Ashes/Catradora-kiss’s Percy Jackson Atramentous AU (mention lightly)

Atramentous Will Solace | 🧡, 🎵 | he/him, fae/faer | Ashes/Catradora-kiss’s Percy Jackson Atramentous AU

Dwayne Pride | —Agent Pride | he/him | NCIS: New Orleans

Agent Tammy Gregorio | 📄 (might change) | she/her, they/them, fae/faer, jazz/jazzself, possibly more | NCIS: New Orleans (mention lightly)

Sebastian Lund | Signoff unknown | he/him | NCIS: New Orleans

Ran Mitake~☆ | 💥, 🔺🔻 | she/her (considering), they/them, red/redself, r/rself, star/starself, after/glow/afterglow | BanG Dream! Girls Band Party (mention lightly)

Moca Aoba | 🍞, 💤 | they/them, it/its, she/her | BanG Dream! Girls Band Party

Lisa | 💝 | she/her | BanG Dream! Girls Band Party

#system members list #system members #osdd 1b system #osdd #osdd 1b #osdd system #system #midnight system 🏳️‍🌈🖤🌘

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eyeofmud · 5 years ago

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prompt fill for @a-tear-in-the-veil “Eyes for any oc that currently inspires you 😊” + “One word writing prompts: "wings" or "skies" (for DWC)” for @tevivinter

for @dadrunkwriting

It’s her eyes Attie decides. Golden and piercing, as sharp and as free as a hawk. Flashing hints of a mysterious woman Attie wants to unravel. She has the time to do so, at least she hopes she does. They’ve been on the road for a handful of days over a month and are nearer to the Orlesian side of the Frostbacks than Attie’s home Ferelden. It’s strange, to say the slightest, to be actually living on the run.

As a girl Attie dreamed about life on the run. The wide open skies, the freedom of a campfire, the laughter and rush of leaving those who come after them in the dust. Growing up with one foot in the forest and the other in the servants quarters. Attie isn’t sure which is worse - to be living her childish dream or finding a harsh reality in its place. Either way she’d certainly rather to be home.

Lightning blazes across the sky outside, the abandoned house they’d found leaking from at least three holes in the roof but Attie doesn’t bother to tear her attention from the raindrops clinging to Morrigan’s eyelashes. Thick, clear jewels of water growing smaller with each blink, flyaway hair plastered by the rain to her temples and curling under her eyes. Morrigan looks like a cat Attie had as a child. She had been a petulant, snarky thing, only allowing her company to be had on her own terms, an excellent mouser and a master of feline stink eyes. And, at night, she would curl up on Attie’s chest and purr so hard Attie thought she could almost hear it. She fell asleep with her hand in Ghil’s fur more often than not when little.

Shivering in the cold Attie pulls her blanket further around her soaked shoulders and tucking it under her to leave her hands free. ‘Hurry with the fire?’ Signing with freezing fingers, the normal flair on the words lost in the shake of her hands. ‘I think I still have some dried apples and I know I still have mint leaves. Somewhere.’

Morrigan swipes a hand across her face to clear most of the rainwater from her skin, a real shame. ‘Easily enough done’ A flick of her wrist follows a delicate twist of her fingers and Attie really tries not to think about that motion to closely, before a fire begins to burn in the small hearth near the middle of the single room house.

‘Thanks’ A quick drop of her hand from her chin just below her lips. Turning only half attention to her words as Morrigan digs around the cupboards for anything they might be able to make use of. Magpie instead of a hawk. Attie leans forward, readjusting her blanket to rustle through her bags. Somewhere in that mess is the few rations she was able to bring from Denerim, though she’s beginning to run frighteningly low. Mint leaves, nail polish, a pressed flower, her mother’s knife, and her prized sewing kit. Not much to rebuild a home with. But Attie can make do.

The heat of the fire is tempting enough once Attie finds her tea leaves, and the beaten up kettle they’ve been traveling with. Morrigan conjures them some water and Attie throws in what little she has but the smell of mint quickly diffuses in the air. Both of them sitting, Attie in her blanket and Morrigan in her furs, neither one of them willing to break a silent game of avoidance.

Because this is what almost strangers do, isn’t it? Avoid looking into eyes warmed by a fire, stray away from the heat blushing cheeks and knuckles, share a kettle of tea over stale bread and conversations neither of them really know where to begin. It isn’t silence, it certainly isn’t hesitance.

It isn’t fear, either. It’s simply unknown.

Attie pulls out their chipped mugs from their bags and wraps her hand further in her blanket before pouring two cups of mint tea, handing the first to Morrigan. Green eyes meeting magpie gold as fingers brush. And it isn’t a moment caught in time, it isn’t as if the lightning outside has struck Attie’s core instead of a nearby tree, it isn’t even an altogether warm touch with both of them still looking as though recently pulled from a river. It isn’t any of those things but it still creates a hitch in Attie’s breath and a skip in her heartbeat.

Butterfly wings taking flight in a stormy sky.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #morrigan x warden #morrigan x f!warden #Morrigan #attie nehrios

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monsterfluffandstuff · 5 years ago

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Philippa(reader) and Rowan (humanoid unicorns)

~This is a lovely, fluffy commission for @tinseltina for two unicorn OCs. Originally their names were Greta and Alphonse but i was really given free reign with most of this one. It is SFW and a teeny bit angsty, but don’t worry, there are always happy endings when I get my way.~

You were ushered into a room and pushed behind a modesty screen, as your dressers helped you into a lovely silk gown. The gown was generously sized to fit your curves, and you remembered the seamstress remarking about it, jealousy made people say the most interesting things. Such nasty words were forgotten, however, the moment you saw yourself in the looking glass. The light blue complimented your mane very well. It was such an inky black that it looked blue in the light. It was the signature of your lineage, your mother had been elated when you had inherited it, you however longed for something different, something brighter.

You watched the hairdresser style it up with a few curls hanging down, as was the fashion. Some lovely pearl clips were the final touches. Your horn was noticeably devoid of decoration, as every adornment carried a meaning. This ball was your introduction to society, having come of age only weeks before; you were not expected to have any rings.

As you entered the grand hall of Emerson house, the home of a generous local Lord, few people even seemed to notice you. This was not surprising as your family, though strong and industrious, were seen as lesser. Your parents had made their fortune and earned their titles, and while you saw only their hard work, others couldn’t shake the stigma.

When you arrived at the head of the hall, your father pulled you toward the band and called for the music to stop.

“My friends, it is time. Tonight, I am honored to introduce to you all, my daughter. Lady Philippa Cimarron!”

There was a smattering of applause and some bowing heads, you could see horns bobbing all over the room. The rings of status did not go unnoticed. There were captains of industry, war heroes, even a few artists. Every so often you would see a ring denoting a higher status, but you had not expected many. The rich loved to rub elbows with the titled but those of higher ranks didn’t often attend such affairs. You stood still as your first ring was affixed to your horn, a lovely silver one with small seed pearls and one large black pearl. This one symbolized your new title and your lineage. Your parents, had made their money and earned their titles thanks to the oceans. They had designed this ring of status to reflect that

The music resumed as did the gossiping, you were brought to acquaintance after acquaintance, for more personal introductions. You knew that most young ladies would be bubbling with joy on the eve of their coming out, but you just wanted to have a drink, stuff yourself with hors d'oeuvres and settle in to a nice book.

The time grew late, and you could see the delicate apple fritters calling your name, when someone literally called your name.

“Lady Cimarron, a pleasure, I’ve been trying to get a moment with you all evening”

You turned to find yourself face to horn with a lord.

“Oh, My lord, my apologies, I’ve been engaged all night. I believe we have not been properly introduced”

Just then your mother swooped in from who knows where, to make introductions, and silently correct your posture.

“Oh my dear, I’ve been looking everywhere for you-“

A fib, you had been standing off to the side, eyeing those fritters for a good fifteen minutes, and she had passed you. Twice.

“My lord, this is my daughter, Lady Philippa Cimarron, Pip, this is Lord Rowan Cavallo.”

And like a gust of wind she was gone.

“My lady, could I trouble you for a dance?”

This was the first time you had really looked at his Lordship and he was handsome. A strong nose and chin, lovely long eyelashes, and his mane and hide were both red as ripe cherries. He was a bit shorter than you, but his family were well known to be of small hearty stock.

You could feel a blush starting to creep up your face, as you realized you had been staring without saying anything at all. You finally opened your mouth and prayed nothing embarrassing would come out.

“It would be no trouble at all, Sir”

Nailed it.

The dancefloor was sparsely populated, and you two became the buzz of the party. A Cimarron with a Cavallo? You could hear eyes widening, mouths gaping, and it made you smile.

His height, which you hadn’t factored in, was not much of an issue. Certain moves were more difficult, but he was light on his feet, and graceful as any dancer you’d seen. It was the highlight of the evening. You did leave the dancefloor, eventually, and Rowan escorted you to the table you had been eyeing so fervently.

“Some refreshment, Lady Philippa?”

“Oh please don’t call me that, I’m not at all used to it, just call me-“

“Pip?” He smiled and handed you a glass full of rum punch, he carried one as well, and a plate of apple fritters, stacked high. You nodded, looking away, the nickname was maybe a bit childish, but you preferred it to the alternative.

“Shall we go to the balcony, I believe tonight is a full moon?”

You were looking longingly at the platter of fritters, but nodded and allowed him to escort you, arm in arm, to the open double doors that led outside.

Once away from the party, mostly out of the scope of prying eyes, he offered you an apple fritter. You could have kissed him for that alone but settled for a smile and whispered thanks.

“So do you have any childhood nicknames I can leverage against you, or did you grow up free of such shackles?”

He laughed, it was a warm and lovely sound, that felt like home. That made you smile wider.

“Oh, more than I can remember. I am the tallest of the runts, at one point my older brother called me “Fetch” because I was the one to fetch things off high shelves for him.”

You tried to suppress a giggle but failed miserably.

“Well I wouldn’t want to call you that, as ironic as it would be”

He feigned shock and tossed you another fritter, which you caught, without dropping even a crumb on your dress.

“Well how about Red. Unimaginative, I know, but it suits me”

Anything unimaginative did not suit him at all. He was so…colorful, both literally and figuratively. His brassy hide made your grey freckled one look so drab. But if he noticed, he didn’t show it, he looked at you like you held the moon betwixt your fingertips and you could not figure out why.

“How about I just stick to Rowan, it suits you too, and I like how it sounds”

You agreed. Rowan and Pip, though he would call you Pippy to get on your nerves, never mind that you actually loved it when he did.

~~~~~

After fritters on the balcony there were many more occasions for you to see His Lordship. Every time you did it was like your birthday came early. Rowan often brought you gifts, small trinkets, odd baubles. Usually it was something useful, like hair pins, or new sewing needles. Sometimes they were more unusual.

There was the time he brought you a pendant, fashioned out of a fossilized invertebrate. Or the time you arrived home from a few weeks away, to find him, far into your garden, bedecked in a beekeeping outfit with a half a dozen hives. He had a kit for you, unbelievably it fit, a bit too well in fact. Your assets were emphasized in a way most scandalous, and you swore you caught him looking at your rear, more than once. But the honey you harvested was the sweetest you had ever tasted, and you thanked him profusely.

For the anniversary of your meeting, you were gifted a looking glass. The handle was inlaid with mother of pearl, the glass itself was an odd tint. Rowan had warned you that it held more secrets than you could know. You had smiled, thinking it must have been him waxing poetic.

A fortnight later, you were as ill as you could remember. All you wanted was to hear him laugh, talk to him a bit. You missed his fiery spirit and infectious happiness. But he was out on business, some five hundred miles away, as opposed to the five miles down the road, where Emerson place sat.

As you held up the glass he had given you, to admire it, as much as to see how you had begun to flush, your face changed. As real as the horn on your head, Rowan was there, in the looking glass.

You shrieked but no noise came out. His face was in his hands, and he seemed to be whispering to himself. After a few minute you called out his name, needing to know just how far this fever dream would take you.

“Rowan are you there?”

He looked up with a start and picked up whatever must have been broadcasting his image into your bedroom.

“Pippy, dear, you’ve finally figured out the glass, I see. And not a moment too soon, you look-“

“Awful?”

You supplied, in the most pitiful tone. To your ears, you almost sounded like a braying basset hound.

“No, never that, but certainly pale. What is it, some summer gripe? I hate that I’m so far from you, If I were there-“

You smiled at his anxious face.

“You would what? Damn all social norms and expectations and burst into my room in the dead of night, ready to be my nursemaid? Or would you cart me off to a far away oasis to convalesce in finery? Rowan there isn’t much of anything you could do, don’t feel bad.”

He seemed wistful, then spoke.

“No, dear Pip. As much as I might like to, I would restrain myself, and wait to call upon you at a decent hour. Then I would make you tea with that lovely honey from your hives, and some honey tarts too. And while you ate and drank your fill I would read you all your favorite books until you fell asleep by the fire. Like in winter when your bed was just too cold, and the chair by the hearth was just right. I called upon you to find you asleep with a volume of Chaucer splayed on your chest”

The blush on your face overtook the pallor, and you almost covered the looking glass.

~~~~~

It was then that you realized you were in love with Rowan. You swore it could never be, what would people say, his family most of all. There was no happy ending with him. At least none that you could see. His family had already sniffed at his decision to see you, in lieu of looking for a bride.

You decided, however, that you didn’t give a good god damn. Even if you couldn’t marry, you’d love him like no one else.

When he arrived back, he called on you. You locked your doors and pulled him onto your balcony. You talked briefly, and when he left you kissed him. He said nothing but kissed your cheek before departing.

He called on you more often after that. Your time together was spent in increasingly intimate ways, moonlight walks in the garden. Sitting nestled in private, reading poetry to one another. There was a spark to each touch, every uttered word, that told of a love so deep and overwhelming. Some of the touches themselves were overwhelming, as he seemed to show a never-ending fondness for caressing your curves and whispering sweet things about his favorite parts of you.

Each time the goodbyes became longer, the kisses more intimate. He always seemed to taste of apples and honey and you craved those kisses. You felt warm and lightheaded, and all you knew was that you wanted more. You never wanted to let go, but oh, how lovely it was when you were reunited. It could have been a week, or an hour and you would still feel as if an eternity had passed, and on seeing you again he would wrap you up in another hug or pull you into his lap to be doted on and cherished.

When he was away for business or just couldn’t find the time to call, he would call to you from your glass. You spent many nights, cuddled up with that looking glass, listening to him read, wishing to hold him in your arms. Perhaps even thinking some terribly untoward things.

~~~~~~

After this had gone on for many weeks you realized that you had never defined what this was, this entanglement you found yourself in. It was not an engagement, as such, but there were whispers of the young lord and his lady friend. There were people speculating on how long it would take for you to “start showing” which you found in poor taste. And as much as you loved him, the rumors irked you, and worried your father. Your mother was at least oblivious, focusing on finding matches for your elder sisters.

The final straw came when his Dowager grandmother came calling. He was abroad again, and she accused you of entrapping him, with magic, and forbade you to see hm again.

You were hurt, offended, and down-right pissed. It was then that you decided to attempt the impossible. You would invite him to tea and give him an ultimatum. Engagement or a return to platonic normalcy.

The following morning you awoke, resolved in your decision. At breakfast, however, before you could ask your mother to pass the jam, she was bursting with “good news”.

“Oh Pip, did you hear? One of the Cavallos, the young one with the red hair. The family announced an engagement. Some lovely young thing, met her while they were all abroad, set up by a cousin apparently. Isn’t it so nice? They plan to wed this month, at Emmerson place, and we’ve all been invited”

You didn’t want jam anymore, or tea, or even apple fritters. You hoped you never ate another apple, or drop of honey, in your life. You hadn’t expected him to choose before you even offered up the options. Later that evening you fell ill, and this strange mystery ailment kept you confined to the chair by your hearth, reading until your eyes burned. Sleep did not come easily that night.

The last week of Rowans trip, you refused to use the looking glass, keeping it under a piece of black cloth. You were in a kind of mourning, as this would be the most painful loss of your young life.

~~~~~~~

The month leading up to the wedding dragged on, days bled into one another and you could hardly find a reason to get up. You seemed to take ill for days at a time and no one could find the cause. Doctors were called, nurses hired, but you turned them all away. Rowan came calling but you refused to see him. If the passage of time had been known to you, you would have realized that he had called on you every day since he returned. Sometimes twice. But you saw no one. You would keep your bees and read your books and you would do it alone.

The day before the wedding you awoke before the sun, with burning questions. Why? Why now, why so sudden, why didn’t he tell you? You looked to the mirror, begging it for answers and in it you saw Rowan, awake, writing out a letter to you. You vowed to get your answers.

You bathed, dressed, and did your hair. As you placed the final pearl clip there was a knock. You answered knowing already who it would be.

Rowan had delivered a letter, inviting you to tea that afternoon.

“For whatever I did, I am sorry. Please come.”

You sent a reply, that you would indeed be there.

“You did nothing, I was just unwell”

When you arrived, you heard laughter. Rowans lovely laugh, warm as a fire and familiar as your favorite chair. Another, sweet as your honey, light as fresh whipped cream. That would be her, you supposed.

As you entered the grand hall, you were led to the balcony where you were awaited. Rowan jumped up. This was where your friendship, your love for him, began. You felt like a kicked pup until you looked at him. Rowan looked at you and nothing else. He seemed awed, as a man seeing a sunset for the first time.

You held out your arms, he almost tripped over his feet wrapping you in a hug so lovely and tight you knew you would miss it the moment he let go, but he didn’t. From then on, he seemed to be constantly touching you.

“Pippy, it’s so good to see you” he said as he continued holding your hand, it seemed inappropriate in front of his fiancé, but you wouldn’t complain.

“I’ve missed you, Rowan, I’m sorry it’s been so long. The illness, I just couldn’t seem to shake. Finally it is resolved”

He took your hand in both of his and looked into your eyes.

“Oh, Pip, you know I would have seen you no matter what, I’d brave anything for you”

He smiled warmly at you and your heart fluttered. Stupid heart. You looked away from him and remarked on the odd choice of location.

“Oh, I picked this balcony, so we could have fresh air and a view. I didn’t want you feeling cooped up”

You blushed and tried to look away again, but you only saw Her.

Lovely red mane, and cream-colored coat, she was a sight. Surely a fine lady, befitting his name.

“Rowan, we’ve been so rude, please introduce me to-‘

“Yes, of course, I’m terribly sorry”

He had seemed to have forgotten that anyone else was there.

“Pip, this is Elaine. Elaine, this is Lady Philippa Cimarron”

“A pleasure to meet you, Philippa.”

“The pleasure is mine, call me Pip”

Any friend, or lover, of Rowans was a friend of yours.

“Oh, please call me Lainie”

“Of course. Now if I’m not being too forward, could you pass me the marmalade, Lainie, I am famished.”

She gave you a smile, fresh and bright as a spring morning. Hell, you’d marry her if you were so inclined, and not in love with her betrothed.

“Only if you’ve brought some honey to share, Ro tells me that it’s the best he’s ever had”

You did bring a fresh pot of honey to share, a peace offering. But you refused the apple fritters that Rowan offered, you didn’t know if you could stomach the taste of apple. The three of you spent tea time talking up a storm, you learned all about where Rowan had been traveling, and he hinted that he had a surprise for you. Lainie seemed unbothered by this, insisting that you would love it.

But all you wanted was a moment alone, you could ask him why and this would all be over with.

“Like stars on a perfect night sky”

You heard Rowan remark, and he was once again not paying a bit of attention to anything else in the world but you.

“You are sickeningly sweet, you know?”

“Well some of us know how to flatter. But I know you prefer stoicism; your betrothed is evidence of that”

You were confused, when another fine lady entered the salon. She seemed to float, or glide, and you saw why. She was a Naga, with a long jeweled tail, not bedecked in the more modest fashion of the country. Was Lainie not Rowans wife-to-be?

“Oh hush, cousin. How was your meeting, my love?”

Cousin? Lainie was Rowan’s cousin? Not fiancé? You needed a strong drink and an explanation. The Naga hovered behind Lainie, hands on her shoulders, and placed a kiss on her horn.

“Oh it was lovely, dear, but I am afraid we must go finish our last errand. Flowers wait for no mortal”

“Flowers for the wedding tomorrow…your wedding?”

Lainie nodded excitedly.

“Yes, my dearest Opal is very particular when it comes to flowers and our florist backed out at the last moment, so we are forced to find something the day before our wedding.”

You found yourself overjoyed and feeling generous.

“Go to my estate, I have extensive gardens, all tended with love and greatest care. Tell them I sent you and you can have as many blossoms as you need”

Lainie looked elated and Opal seemed impressed. They thanked you and hurried off.

“That was a lovely thing you did, Pippy. I’ve missed your goodness, I’ve missed you.”

You wanted to reply in kind, but you stayed silent, still focused on the empty spot Lainie had previously occupied. You were still a bit in shock.

The young, redheaded Cavallo. Rowans cousin was the one being married, not him. You had almost thrown away the love of your life over some vague wording. You still didn’t deserve him. But damned if you would throw away even one more chance.

“Rowan are you in love with me?”

You looked to him to find him, mouth agape.

“I’ve loved you for so long, since you called me “Pip”, or maybe even since you asked me to dance”

He still did not speak, only he came to you, on his knees, and hugged your middle, carefully laying his head in your lap.

‘I have been yours since the moment you took my hand and let me lead you around the dancefloor”

“Pippy, Philippa, marry me, please?”

You shook your head and his face fell.

“I want to, Rowan, I do, but you need to know.”

So, you told him of your month of self-imposed exile, your massive misunderstanding. You told him of the ultimatum and his grandmother, her accusations.

He listened to every moment, every morsel of information. When you came to his family, he rose and took your hands in his. He pulled you to your feet and he kissed you like he’d been searching for you all his life. You didn’t ignore the roaming hands, one on your ass, fondling, one in your hair, tangled and tugging ever so slightly. You let out a whimper as he nipped your lip, you were undone. When he pulled away he asked you again.

“Pippy, just marry me, they can be damned for all I care. All I want is you”

You couldn’t speak for fear of the noise you’d make, so you nodded, smiling so wide your cheeks began to burn.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that”

“The groping, or the proposing?”

You hung your arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.

“Would it be naughty to say both of them, in that order?”

“Rowan!”

He smirked, looking nothing short of devious.

“You asked, and if I’m honest, when I got to know you for who you are, that’s the moment I knew you were the only one I wanted, that I was in love. However, I was in lust the moment I saw your figure. The shape of you in that gown made me wish for you in my bed and little else. You can’t imagine what I have planned for our wedding night. I know a priest, it could be tonight if you are-“

You kissed him before he could say anything else. He still tasted of honey and apples.

#monster boyfriend #monster reader #humanoid #unicorn #exophilia #commission #monsterfluffandstuff #fluff #sfw #cute #tinseltina #monster girlfriend #hints of other pairings to come #naga #commissions are open

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thereluctantinquisitor · 5 years ago

Note

drabble prompt "You heard me. Take. It. Off.” for hanin and cyrus?

Elder Scrolls AU, because ESO is where I live my life lately and I’ve made most of my OCs there lol. Avira, mentioned, belongs to @lavellanlove ;)

In this AU, Hanin owns a large, bare-bones hall in Elsweyr which he offers as a safe place to adventurers he finds (read: rescues) during his travels (also SFW lol, because the prompt might confuse people)

——–

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” Hanin shook his head, his frustration second only to his concern. “Cyrus, I can’t help you if you won’t let me see the damage.”

The young man was leaning heavily against the wall, his legs barely supporting him, knees trembling with the last remains of his stubborn pride. “It’s nothing,” he hissed between clenched teeth, the words muffled by a dark mask covering the lower half of his face. His arm was wrapped protectively around himself, gloved hand pressed to his side. “J-Just a graze.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Perhaps it was something in Hanin’s tone, but Cyrus winced, seeming to shrink back against the stones. Even with most of his face covered, Hanin could see the glisten of sweat clinging to his skin. For a moment, there was silence between them, Hanin’s desperation to do something nearly impossible to ignore. But he remembered the advice he’d been given to him by Avira. Create space. Don’t demand or force it, but make it known that they can rely on you for more than just a roof over their heads.

Slowly, Hanin’s posture relaxed. “You need to get off your feet. Can you walk on your own?”

Cyrus’ head bobbed weakly. He used the side of a balled fist to push himself off the wall, almost going too far to the side but managing to right himself at the last moment. Hanin hovered close-by, arms loose, ready to reach out and catch the him should he falter as they crossed the hall.

By some miracle, Cyrus made it across the large space and to the hearth at the back corner. The flame was brighter there, making visible what was previously concealed by dark fabric and shadow. Frowning, his brow tense with worry, Hanin knelt in front of him. “Cyrus… that is not a graze…”

The younger man’s shaky breath was muted by the mask, but there was something different about the look in his pale blue eyes now. “I-I know. I know, okay?” He gasped suddenly, flinching forward, a low whine spilling from his lips as his fingers curled against the ruined fabric of his jerkin. “F-Fuck…”

Pride was giving way to panic.

That was just as bad.

“Stay still.” Hanin was on his feet in an instant, moving around the hall, collecting what he needed, the process was muscle-memory. This was not the first time he had patched someone up since opening his doors. A bucket of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of hard alcohol later, Hanin was once again by Cyrus’ side. He had pulled his mask down and tugged off his hood, as though the fabric was smothering him. Hanin knew that was not the cause of his shortness of breath. “I need to look. If it is bleeding badly, we have to control it.”

It seemed his earlier stubbornness has all but bled away. Literally. Cyrus managed a weak nod and Hanin got to work, fingers working at buttons and ties until Cyrus’ cloak was in a pile on the floor and his shirt lay open, exposing a line of mottled skin. Whether it was from bruises or blood, Hanin could not say.

Carefully, he began to peel the fabric away. However, as it reached the area of the wound, Cyrus tensed, gasping, clutching tighter and shaking his head. His pale eyes were open but lacked clear focus. It was instinct, pure and simple.

Swallowing, Hanin reassessed. Moving slowly, he released the fabric and rested his hand over Cyrus’ instead. Whether it was the warmth or the pressure, Hanin couldn’t say for certain, but something seemed to calm Cyrus down. His breathing slowed slightly, the trembling pressure he was applying to the area giving way beneath Hanin’s palm. Taking his cue, Hanin eased Cyrus’ hand aside, exposing the injury to the warm air by the fire. In the flickering light, Hanin cringed in sympathy.

“How did this happen?” Soaking the cloth, Hanin washed around the ragged slash first, checking for other injuries beneath the dried blood. A hundred furious questions threw themselves against his skull, but he forced himself to keep them contained. An interrogation would just push Cyrus further away when he needed to do the opposite.

“S-Screwed up… job…” There was a slow slur to his speech. He’d lost a fair amount of blood. But the fact that he was still conscious was a sign of hope. “Got m-made… knifed…”

Leaning in, Hanin examined the wound more closely. It was not as deep as he had feared. The main issue was just stopping the bleeding. “Do you want to tell me what kind of job it was?”

A pause. A shake of the head.

Hanin sighed out his nose, too busy focusing on how to close the wound to devote much energy to frustration. “I’ll need to sew this.” Cyrus stiffened slightly under Hanin’s touch, prompting him to continue. “It’s alright. I’ve done it before. Many times.” He mustered what he hoped was a faint but reassuring smile. “You aren’t the only one who has caught the wrong side of a blade, Cyrus. I have scars for a reason. I’ve made mistakes.”

It was a strange time for the confession. At first, Hanin thought he’d said the wrong thing. It wouldn’t be the first time. But then, a thread of tension that seemed to be holding Cyrus’ spine rigid gave way. The man exhaled, slumping back in the chair.

“O-Okay. Do it.”

Glancing up, Hanin regarded Cyrus for a moment. His eyes were closed now, but even so, Hanin was surprised he had conceded so quickly. He had half expected to have to argue with him, or at least convince him it needed to be done.

Perhaps it was blood-loss.

Perhaps it was exhaustion and the fight had just left him.

Or, perhaps, Hanin had finally made some space, and Cyrus was allowing himself to fill it. To place himself in his hands. To close his eyes and trust someone else just a little bit more than was wise. Just a little bit more than his instincts typically allowed.

“You’ll be alright,” Hanin reassured him, reaching for his triage kit.

And even though Cyrus didn’t manage the words, the faint nod of his head said them just as loud.

I know.

#Anonymous #reluctant replies #drabble meme #hanin lavellan #cyrus #elderscrolls!au #because of course hanin manages to accrue a squad of misfits in EVERY UNIVERSE lol #and elder scrolls cyrus gets pretty tangled up in the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood #but ofc Hanin has no idea #(although this might raise some questions)#>.>

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cityandking · 6 years ago

Text

turning of the season

They spend the night there, sheltered from the weather. [Vesper Trevelyan/Ellana Lavellan. 2.4K.]

written for oc kiss week 2019. also written as part of the domestic fluff challenge. two birds, one fic. ellana belongs to @mcousland; title comes from from “don’t carry it all” by the decemberists.

other works

The booming crash of thunder rings out across the valley, shaking the trees and rattling the craggy sides of the mountains as they stumble towards one of the myriad abandoned hovels in the southernmost reaches of the Hinterlands. Ellana had picked it out in the gathering dark, cold and silent, its porch half crumbled by something far more intentional that time and weathering. The scorch marks across the rain-slick wood tell a familiar story, but they spare little time to think of the home’s inhabitants. They’re too busy fending off the rain instead, stinging and cold and constant, well into its second hour. Vesper’s weak barrier failed half a mile back, and now they are left shivering and miserable as they strike out towards it.

When they arrive the door is locked, and they spend precious seconds pressed up against the thick slab of wood shouting for occupants neither believes exist. They give up too quickly, and Ellana crouches to pick the lock while Vesper pulls at the dregs of her mana to spin out another feeble and fast-fading barrier above them.

It fades again in the time it takes Ellana to pry open the lock, fingers half frozen and her lockpicks slippery between them. Finally, though, the door clicks and swings in, and the two half tumble inside the damp, chill, single-room abode.

The mildewy interior of a cottage has never been so inviting.

It takes the both of them to shove the door closed again against the whipping wind, and Vesper slides the lock into place, and for a moment they both lean against it, shoulder to shoulder, panting and dripping and nearly frozen.

“Do you think the others are alright?” Ellana asks finally, pushing herself up. Vesper shoves the mop of her dripping hair out of her face and shrugs off the heavy weight of her waterlogged bedroll and pack. Next to her Ellana wriggles out from beneath her travel pack and rain-soaked cloak.

“They fell westward,” Vesper responds, checking over the hovel. “I am certain they had no trouble finding camp.” Unlike the two of them, who have a day-long march around the bulk western mountain if they want to make it back to their current base of operations. There will be no scaling the mountains in this weather.

“I hope so,” Ellana mutters behind her as Vesper makes a beeline for the hearth. There is still wood stacked nearby, a little damp but serviceable. She stacks it in the fireplace and searches for the last dregs of her magic to light it, stiff fingers twisting in a simple pattern as she urges the old wood to take a spark and wishes her starter kit were not as wet as everything else around them. It takes a few tries, but eventually the wood catches, and from there it is an easier task to guide the flames to bloom bright and merry in the hearth, and they can finally see the long-abandoned home they sheltered in.

The walls and floor are all bare, and the bed little more than a hay-stuffed pallet in one corner. A trunk sits at the end of it, still locked tight. There is little else to the one-room home besides that. Rain lashes against the door, and the wind leans heavily against the door, but it stays closed tight, only a little water leaking in over the lintel.

Vesper sighs. Ellana shrugs.

“Could be worse,” the Inquisitor decides, and starts wringing out her pale hair. “At least it’s not snowing.”

Vesper would almost prefer snow. At least it would be something to look at. A little beauty among the misery.

Though, if she is to be trapped somewhere by the weather, the narrow dalish woman starting to shiver near the door makes a good companion.

Now that the fire has begin to push back the dark and the cold the clammy, cloying press of her drenched clothes tugs at her thoughts, brings warnings of sickness and danger, and Vesper shivers too. Nothing good will come from catching cold here and now, with nothing and nobody within a day’s march.

“We should get out of these clothes,” she says aloud, and then flushes when Ellana looks at her with a grin. “To keep from catching anything,” she amends.

“Whatever the doctor orders,” Ellana replies, already pulling off her boots. When she tips them over they leave puddles on the wooden floor. Vesper winces.

Vesper leaves her to it as she drags her own bag closer to the fire and fiddles with the straps, meaning to poke through it in hopes of finding something not completely ruined that she can change into.

Instead, she finds it bone dry.

“Hey,” calls Ellana from the other side of the room, and when Vesper glances over she finds the woman crouched next to the now-opened trunk at the foot of the bed in nothing but her smalls. “I found some blankets!”

“Good, that’s good,” Vesper tells her distantly, too surprised by her own discovery to be properly shocked by Ellana’s relative nudity, or the discovery. “You can dry yourself off.”

“You can too,” Ellana returns, coming back towards the hearth with her arms full of musty quilts and bedding. “What was that about getting out of wet clothes?”

“Right,” Vesper says, still staring down into her perfectly dry pack.

The ward must have worked. It worked.

“Vesper?” She blinks up to find Ellana standing over her, blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders, rivulets of water still running down her temples and collar bone. The woman looks down at her, then crouches. “What is it?”

“I was… I had been experimenting with something, before we left,” Vesper answers. “It was more of a success than I expected.”

Ellana looks down at the pack, hair dripping around her face, and then looks back up at Vesper, and her look of surprise transforms into a broad smile.

“You’re going to have to do that to mine next.”

“Of course,” Vesper replies. Then it strikes her exactly how little Ellana is wearing and she flushes again. “Um.”

“Sorry,” Ellana says, standing suddenly. “I can go sit in front of the fire.” She turns to go, but Vesper catches her hand. Her fingers are half frozen, clammy. Vesper frowns.

“No,” she says. “No, wait. Here.” She fishes through the bag and comes up with a clean, if worn, tabard. The laces are fraying, but it will do for here and now. “You should put on something dry.”

“What about you?”

“I will manage.”

“They’re your clothes––”

“I am not the one half frozen. I do alright with the cold. Besides,” she adds, “I have more than one set.”

“If you’re sure,” Ellana says, but she takes the offending article without further protest. Vesper leaves her to change as she sheds the rest of her own clothes, trades out her soaked shirt for a fresh one and––quick as she can manage it––dry smalls. Only when she is again dressed––well, more or less; she has no clean breeches but her shirt falls past her hips so it will do for now––does she turn around.

It is more of a shock than she would like to admit to see Ellana wearing her clothes.

It’s long on her, nearly long enough to brush the floor, and even with the laces fully tied along the side there’s a little too much skin, calf and thigh and side and shoulder, and Ellana has never been one to wear a great deal of red but the color looks good on her.

Vesper clears her throat and goes back to laying her clothes out with a studious focus so that her mind––and eyes––will not wander

Ellana does the same nearby, taking everything out of her pack. Vesper helps with what she can, drawing out a complicated rune meant to wick away water with ash from the fireplace and a sprig of cattail. Hopefully it will be dry by morning, at least.

“Aha,” says Ellana as she reaches the bottom of her pack, and she pulls forth a narrow, still-sealed bottle of wine. “Refreshments.”

“Where is that from?” Vesper asks, and Ellana winces a little.

“Not sure we want to know. Want some?”

“Maker, yes,” Vesper says, and Ellana laughs.

Together they drag the meagre pallet from the bed frame and set it in front of the now-roaring fire. They drape one of the blankets over it to make something almost like a bed, and once that has been set up they sit together, pressed knee to knee, wrapped up in the remaining blankets. Ellana’s rations are largely ruined, but Vesper’s have survived the weather, so there is smoked sausage and nuts and dried fruit, and they drink the wine out of little tin cups from their mess kits. The warmth of the fire begins to truly permeate the interior of the cabin as they eat, beating back the chill of the spring storm, and it is almost nice.

But despite the warmth, Ellana continues to shiver.

She hides it well, but every now and then they wrack her body, even with her legs drawn up beneath her and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. If they are not careful she will catch a fever, and then they will have to chance waiting it out in this abandoned hut or finding a healer who can help, and Vesper relishes neither of those options.

So there is only one thing to do.

“Come here,” she says, holding her blanket out with one arm. Ellana frowns.

“I’m alright.”

“You’ll catch cold if you don’t get warm. Come here.”

Ellana folds easily, hesitating mere seconds before she scoots closer. She frowns as she goes, but some of the tension eases from her as she huddles under Vesper’s arm and the blanket falls over her. A moment later she sighs and presses closer against Vesper’s side, and doesn’t protest and Vesper rearranges the blankets around them.

“Oh, you’re so warm.”

“I told you. I do alright with the cold.”

“Is that a mage thing?”

Vesper hums. “A little.” In truth, the fire in her gut helps with the cold, but her reserves are low and she feels the prickling chill more than she would admit. Ellana's warmth is a welcome comfort.

“Not fair.”

Vesper only shakes her head and passes her the last of the dried apricots. Ellana scarfs them down.

The wine settles in their stomachs as they eat, brings with it a hazy warmth. It touches only the edges of Vesper’s conscious, but it holds fast to little Ellana, and she lists further into Vesper, eyelids drooping.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” she murmurs when the meal is only crumbs and pits around them. She tucking her face into the crook of Vesper’s neck, and her breath tickles when she speaks. Or, maybe tickles isn’t the word for it. Vesper shivers, and it has nothing to do with the cold. “Your clothes are really comfy.”

“You’re welcome, Inquisitor,” Vesper replies, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and desperate for distance. Ellana’s lips form a frown against her skin, eyes drifting closed.

“You never call me by my name.”

“It’s the polite thing to do when speaking to a superior.”

“‘M not a superior.”

“You’re the Inquisitor.

“Not here.” She sits up a little, eyelids cracking so that she can look at Vesper. “Here I’m just you and you’re just–– No, wait. I’m just me and you’re just you. This is private.”

Vesper swallows. “That’s true.”

Ellana hums and lays her head back down. “If it’s just us… will you use my name? Please?”

“I––” Vesper is aware, suddenly, of every point of contact between them, of Ellana pressed up against her side, of the two of them wearing the barest scraps of clothing, out here all alone save for miles of rain-drenched outlands. Something in her chest twists, goes hot and fluttering all at once. She wets her lips. “Alright, Ellana.”

She feels the curve of Ellana’s smile against her neck and her face goes red again, and it is a good thing Ellana cannot see it to tease her. Though, Vesper might not wholly mind if she did.

It is not long after that the cadence of Ellana’s breathing evens out and she falls asleep still propped up against her. Vesper sits in front of the crackling fire, last of the wine swirling at the bottom of her tin cup, listening to her breath and the hiss and pop of the fire and the rain rattling down outside. For all the hardship, all the trouble waiting out there, she does not regret this bubble of peace they have made for themselves.

But Ellana is a heavy weight at her side and her own eyes start to droop, so she shifts the woman as best she can, sees her curled up on the pallet in front of the fire and tucked in. She clears up the remains of their meal, and double checks all of their things––the bedrolls are still damp, but the rest seems to be well on its way to drying––and only when all that is seen to does she return to the makeshift bed they have laid out on the floor. She folds her blanket tightly into something resembling a pillow and tucks it beneath Ellana’s head.

For a moment she stays kneeling there, staring down at the woman. She is such a commanding presence out there in the world. Half a myth, powerful and proud, a figure sure to leave her mark across history. But she is this too, small and curled tight in front of the warmth of the fire in a forgotten hovel in the Hinterlands, wearing too-large clothes that do not belong to her, mouth open slightly in sleep.

Vesper leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. She shifts in her sleep, turning her face up towards Vesper’s warmth, and Vesper does not bother to hide her smile.

“Sleep well,” she murmurs, brushing damp ringlets of hair from Ellana’s face.

Then she balls up the last blanket and curls up behind Ellana, slipping beneath the quilt, keeping the woman sheltered between the heat of her body and the warmth of the fire. The blankets are a warm cocoon around them, and the fire dances merrily in the hearth, and the rain makes for a soothing lullaby, and she falls asleep nearly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

#ockiss19 #mcousland #dragon age #dragon age fic #mine; writing #mine; vesper #mine; dragon age #vesper #friend ocs #domestic fluff challenge #companion!vesper #the longer I'm here the more complex my tagging system gets rip #aaaaand here's the last one! oh boy!!#(honestly... might fuck around and do a few bonus rounds) (we'll see)

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greennightspider · 6 years ago

Text

The Cabin in the Snow (Chapter 1)

M’Baku x OC (Akari)

Summary: M’Baku and Akari get stuck in a snowstorm in a cabin during an assignment. What’s a couple of Jabari warriors to do? This fic is based on M’Baku a short time before he became the leader of the Jabari Tribe.

Author’s Note: A note on Akari’s appearance is at the bottooooom just ta give some kind of guidance on my vision for her. In short Akari is thick but she is FIT. Gurl got some muscle in that pudgy-ness.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

@readsalot73

The Jabari Mountains could be seen for miles in Wakanda. The stark contrast between the white snow that blanketed the sharp peaks and the rest of Wakanda reflected the independence of the Jabari Tribe, who had long inhabited the cold altitude, and much to everyone’s surprise, had prospered. While the long years and decades allowed for the Jabari people to climatise, this did not in fact mean that they were completely immune to the cold, as two young lost souls were quickly finding out.

Barely visible on the Jabari mountains’ second largest summit were two moving dots, barely visible in the snow both covered in furs, one leading the other, the leader making sure to stop every five minutes to remind the second-in-command why they were there.

“I swear to Hanuman M’Baku, I can’t believe you LOST the map!”

M’Baku groaned, rolling his eyes and his head simultaneously before answering the furious female in front of him. “I SAID I was sorry Akari, besides are you not supposed to be the smart one here?”

Akari swore that if she didn’t have to concentrate on trudging one foot in front of the other in this bloody snow, she would have tackled M’Baku and sent both of them flying down the mountain, leaving their fate in Hanumans’ hands.

Fate obviously had a sense of humor, considering out of all the people she could have been paired with on this assignment, she had managed to bag the class clown himself. M’Baku. Everyone at school knew his name. He was charming, charismatic, and always had a few female groupies floating around him. Oh. And not to mention he was the chieftain’s crown son.

As part of their first year of college schooling, their final winter assignment involved conquering one of the Jabari Mountain’s coldest peaks. While it was a simple task; follow the map up the mountain and back down, this was also a test of endurance in some of Jabari’s most central landscapes. No technology, no communication devices, just a solitary map and two backpacks filled with food, water, and a first aid kit. This was a test not only of one’s map reading skills, but it was supposed to hone the student’s connection to the mountains themselves.

And considering the fact that M’Baku had lost the map halfway through the trek due to a loose flap on his backpack, one could say their odds weren’t exactly great.

The pair had reached a craggy impass which allowed Akari to swivel her feet on the rocks to face M’Baku with a sneer. “And is not a big part of being the chieftain’s crown son being able to actually LEAD people?”

M’Baku scowled, giving Akari her first small victory of the whole trip. She knew M’Baku hated being reminded of his standing, since he always wanted to just be seen as ‘one of the boys’. Akari supposed it was part of the reason why he was so likeable; he wanted to see people for him, not his title.

Turning back around on her heels and continuing forward gave M’Baku ended up concentrating on the only view he had atop this white wasteland: his female counterpart. She was considered tall for a female, although she still only measured just above his shoulder, which he observed when she first found out about the lost map and proceeded to rage at him in a way that only his father could come close to. Curiously she was probably the only person to ever try and rage at him like that.

Akari wasn’t the smallest of girls. She had a strength in her strong build that M’Baku knew made half the guys in their year weary of trying anything suspect. Akari’s normally curly hair was tightly pulled into a bun atop her head, that would come into view when she struggled to pull the white fur-lined hood over her hood onto her head due to the merciless winds that were starting to pick up. Her face was stern even though her chubby cheeks would at first glance say otherwise. M’Baku had to admit her lower half was something else, admiring her wide hips and strong legs that he knew gave her an edge on this trip. M’Baku knew of Akari, hell most of the guys he knew in class fancied her, although he didn’t see the big deal. She was well liked by teachers and students, and she managed to balance being a bookworm as well as an athletic champ at combat sports. And while they were in the same class, he hadn’t given her so much as a passing glance until now.

A sudden cold breeze shook M’Baku out of his thoughts and tilted his head toward the horizon, almost as if the wind was warning him of the ominous snowstorm. “Akari,” M’Baku urged, as Akari turned around and then followed his eyeline, her eyes widening.

“We need to get off this mountain.”

............................................................................................................................

Several hours later the two were no closer to their destination, and the storm had well begun to set in. Their furs and gear had done well to help them brace the cold, but it was only meant to last them several hours, not a whole day. M’Baku had agreed to let Akari lead in the beginning, however he knew she wouldn’t last much longer without rest and shelter. Both of them wouldn’t. Akari’s movements we’re becoming slower as her legs struggled to trudge through the never-ending expanse of snow. She would never show weakness, but he knew even with the howling winds that her teeth were chattering.

They needed to find shelter in this snowstorm and fast. As they slowly trudged on M’Baku racked his brain for anything that could help them, trying to peer at their surroundings to see if there were any landmarks. When he was little, his father would often take him and his brothers up these mountains as he had always believed that his heirs, and future leaders of the tribe needed to be one with the elements. As M’Baku tried to remember if there was anything on this particular peak, the words of his father faintly graced his memory.

“Son, on this mountain, hidden behind the second peak, is a cabin…”

M’Baku snapped his head up. He remembered they had passed a peak not too long ago, which meant the second wasn’t too far off.

“Akari!”

M’Baku shuffled as fast as he could to rest his hand on Akari’s shoulder, and his eyes widened when he saw her face. Her eyes we’re hooded and her face was almost frozen when he turned to face him. Her usually full lips were on the tinge of blue. While his memory was hazy, he knew this cabin was important. He knew that it’s location was a secret only known to the families of chieftain, that only chiefs were meant to use this cabin. For what, he could not remember, however at this point he couldn’t care less. M’Baku knew that there would be consequences for revealing this secret to an outsider, and that both of them would have to face his father when they returned. But he wasn’t about to let both of them die for the sake of protocol. Spotting the second peak not far ahead of them, he gripped Akari’s shoulder to brace him for his decision. “Akari, I know of a place here where we can rest, it shouldn’t be too far.”

……………………………………………………......................................................

M’Baku had to use all of his weight to break the door free from the ice that had settled into its cracks. Akari and M’Baku both rushed in and quickly shut the door behind them, Akari taking the time to finally stop moving and try and steady her erratic breathing. However M’Baku took no time in scanning the room and finding a blanket. He then stalked towards Akari with his arms out, a corner of the blanket in each hand. “Drop your backpack.”

Akari didn’t object and as soon as her bag slipped off her shoulders M’Baku embraced her with the blanket, wrapping it around her tightly like a cocoon.

“Sit there.” M’Baku motioned to the bench to the right of the entrance. Once she was bundled up and settled he paced towards the firepit across from the entrance. He all but threw his bag down next to him and rummaged recklessly until he found his flint.

As M’Baku worked on getting the fire going, Akari took the time to take in the cabin and to study M’Baku. While he was a jokester, who’s never-ending stream of jokes would get on her nerves, and while she wouldn’t be in this ordeal if it wasn’t for him, Akari couldn’t help feeling reassured watching M’Baku work frantically, concentrating on building the small flame. She knew he hardly ever took things seriously, but when shit hit the fan M’Baku never hesitated to step up.

Looking around the cabin Akari took in her surroundings. The cabin wasn’t grand, but it was more than big enough for two people. She glanced across the room and noticed that almost the whole back wall was converted into a bed, with furs and blankets neatly folded to the side. The hearth that M’Baku was tending to was placed to the left of the bed, directly across from the entryway but far enough away that anyone who opened the door wouldn’t harm the fire. Akari sat on a long wooden bench facing away from the simple table and cupboards behind her.

Once the small sparks had finally blossomed into a raging fire, M’Baku sighed in relief. Akari clapped her hands in appreciation, and M’Baku turned and raised his eyebrows slightly, amused at her uncharacteristic outburst knowing it was most likely the hypothermia but glad to see a smile on her face.

He then stood up and stretched, and Akari would have taken that as the cue to start unpacking their belongings and grabbing the rest of the blankets and bundling up near the fire. That is until she noticed M’Baku was simultaneously taking his shirt off as he stood.

With wide unabashed eyes Akari stared at M’Baku’s now bare chest as he was front and center. She had seen him and many of her other male classmates shirtless before, it wasn’t an uncommon sight at sports games and rituals. However something about watching him now, alone, with his body glowing in the light of the fire made it feel… different. M’Baku then went on to remove his pants, walking around the hearth to drape them on a spare bench opposite him. He then turned to her, almost completely naked were it not for the tight black briefs he was wearing that left nothing to the imagination. Akari, whose mouth was slightly agape, locked eyes with the nearly naked M’Baku standing in front of her. Who then said only two words in a deep, commanding voice that shook her to her core.

“Akari. Undress.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

AUTHORS NOTE:

Akari’s hair is similar to this pic of Philomena Kwao

And her body-type is similar to this OTHER picture of Philomena Kwao

Hope ya liked it!

#m'baku fanfiction #m'baku x oc #black panther fanfiction #mbaku fanfiction #mbaku fanfic #m'baku fanfic #m'baku #black panther fanfic #The cabin in the snow #greennightspider

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waytoobsessed · 2 years ago

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“I let you go once, im not letting go again!”

Hmmm

Is this angst?

Anyways enjoy some brother bonding (or more correctly brother burning)

#please dont ship them #not a ship #they’re brothers >:[#Oc Kit #Oc Kade #oc Kit Hearth #oc Kade Hearth #my art #pencil scribbles #hehe electricity go brrrrr #my ocs #angst?#Kit uses electricity! its super effective!

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stanzicapparatireplayers · 7 years ago

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So I poked at an AU for some OCs, as you do. And the setting this time was Downtrodden. And long story short, I accidentally some rabbit gods. Maybe.

Zeimah is a hybrid (like she always is). Three-quarters bun, still mainlander enough that it shows. She's the god of traveling and exploring; she embodies the feeling of wanting to know what's past the furthest edges of the territory you've grown up in, of waking up to spring thaw and needing to be anywhere else besides a warren that you know too well and that's full of people who are related to you. The feeling of wanting to see new places - not even places no one's seen before, just places new to you. Traveling has two parts, though - the part where you go out, and the part where you come home. So she's also the god of coming home, of the feeling of being able to come home and tell about your adventures, of having a home to come back to. Whatever name she's got, as a deity, once people actually notice that she's a god and not just an absurdly lucky traveler who can't stay put for more than a winter, it translates from Old Lango to "dust" - specifically, the dust that clings to your feet when you walk the summer roads when everyone's waiting for the rain.

Pritra is the god who embodies the feeling of snuggling in bed with your mate after sex, or after a long day. The feeling of holding your kit in your arms and being awestruck by this tiny living thing, and being amazed at how fiercely protective you feel. The feeling of joy and pride, at seeing living things grow and learn. The feeling of being willing to punch someone in the throat, if they try and come at your family. The feeling of being completely done with these idiots, but they're still your idiots and you love them anyways. As a deity, his name probably translates from the Old Lango word for "hearth".

And Basil isn't even my OC, but he's in this setting anyway with these other two dorks. He's the god of survivor's math. Of talking so that there won't be a fight. He embodies the feeling of "this sucks, but it's better than dying" and of enduring bad times to make it through to the other end alive (if not whole). The god of "calm your fucking shit" and "this sucks and I am Done with it sucking". (He is not the God of Fucking Doing Something About The Problem. That is very much someone else. His methods are quieter and more averse to the use of violence. They probably get along well, though.) He embodies the calculus that drives rabbits to eat Poisonous Bastard, knowing the short-term misery that it will bring them and deciding the long-term benefits outweigh that - and the calculus that goes "I might die of stress from planning Mending, but making sure the warren is fully stocked to survive the winter will be worth it even if I do" and the one that leads good parents to look at the pantry during a bad harvest, figure out what the bare minimum an adult rabbit needs to survive, and making sure that even if the soup is thinner than anyone likes, the kids still aren't going to bed hungry if it can be avoided. He's the god of knowing death happens (because every rabbit knows this), but planning like you'll live to see tomorrow so that you will see tomorrow. I have no idea what he'd be called, as a deity, but it probably roughly translates out to "I LIVED, BITCH". 'Spite', maybe.

This particular AU starts with Zeimah having a recurring dream that pairs with an increasing compulsion to travel to the island and go as far inland as she can get. Basil is dragged (mostly willingly) along with her, because his family is hot garbage and there's a reason why he embodies the specific things he does if he ends up a god. (Namely: his family is hot garbage and a bag of dicks. They are garbage dicks.) Pree is met once they arrive at the island, and is a midwife who's been living at an Orchid warren that's the first stopping point for most people just getting back to the island (because travel is stressful, best to destress before you do more of it). Pree helps these two dorks adapt to the island, and cope with the sudden emergence of their powers (because of course they're late bloomers). Coping mostly means dragging them to the nearest Life college and dunking them into courses on necromancy and being a priest, and also making sure they actually have a proper education on sex ed. He's a midwife, not a saint. Zeimah's compulsion to keep traveling inland complicates things, since 1) she get jittery if she has to stay in one place for too long, moving to anxious as time goes on, 2) things get increasingly dangerous the further inland you go, and 3) the downside she got from hybrid heritage is inheriting her mom's deeply shitty legs. They're better than her mom's were, at least (her mom could barely walk by the time puberty happened), but early-onset wear-and-tear arthritis is still a bitch to deal with if you're planning on doing a lot of walking and/or may need to run for your life with little or no warning. She eventually has to get mobility aids, and is seriously considering just straight-up replacing her legs with proesthetics from the knee down. (Rabbit medicine is good - way better than mainlander stuff - but I figure they're probably not quite to the point where joint replacement surgery is easy, common, or even generally considered as a reasonable option.)

If she does end up as a god, one of the first miracles people are likely to look back at and go "y'know, that should have been a sign" is that she's probably going to go for prosthetic legs, and save her original legs to turn the bones into more natural-feeling prosthetics. She's a necromancer, and mages are a dime a dozen for rabbits, so it's not being able to enchant a pile of bones (and yarn and leather) into being a set of working prosthetics that's the surprising bit. The surprising bit is where it doesn't go terribly wrong, even a little bit. They behave just like normal legs should. Which isn't a given, for enchanted prosthetics. It's more likely that it'd be viewed as her being an absurdly lucky idiot for a very long time, though. (And probably even afterwards, because it's one of those things that wouldn't reliably work for someone who can't just sort of clip through the laws of reality.)

#rabbits of downtrodden #long post #zeimah #pritra #basil

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spicynbachili1 · 6 years ago

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1st Armored Division participates in Warfighter Exercise to enhance operational readiness – Defence Blog

Spc. Karen Lawshae has reported that the first Armored Division participated within the Warfighter 19-2 train November Four-15, throughout a number of coaching websites right here within the sprawling navy set up in preparation for future contingency operations.

Based on Karen Lawshae, Warfighter was the culminating occasion of a sequence of coaching workout routines held by America’s Tank Division over the previous six months. The train assessed 1AD’s capability to handle, direct and synchronize throughout a number of brigades aimed to coach and enhance operational readiness, warfighting features, and effectiveness throughout the Division employees, and models assigned.

“Each Soldier, each course of was examined, and we realized an important deal. All of these items are extraordinarily necessary to the success of our Division and it’s particularly nice to coach with our joint teammates on this setting,” mentioned Maj. Gen. Patrick Matlock, commanding normal of the first Armored Division and Fort Bliss. “Whenever you come to Warfighter you bought to make the most of each minute. We’re extraordinarily pleased with the women and men of this Division for his or her excellence and professionalism. The MCTP [Mission Command Training Program] supplied us a tricky state of affairs and challenged each part all through the train.”

The Mission Command Coaching Program workforce from Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, despatched a number of observer-coach/trainers (OC/T’s) to Fort Bliss to supervise the train and provides skilled suggestions and steerage to every employees part. Every OC/T is a topic skilled of their respective area and gives skilled perception for the sections’ improvement.

The first Armored Division was evaluated on a number of collective coaching duties starting from maneuvers to communications, employees processes, and establishing and re-establishing its command publish between a number of coaching websites. Troopers had been additionally examined on their particular person expertise units akin to CBRN (chemical, organic, radiological, nuclear) procedures, correctly sporting their Mission Oriented Protecting Posture gear, organising firing positions, and collaboration skills to maneuver the division’s predominant command publish.

“I spent 20 of my 44 years on lively responsibility with this nice Division,” mentioned Ret. U.S. Military Lt. Gen. Michael S. Tucker, who served because the senior mentor through the Warfighter 19-2 train. “You will have warmed my coronary heart, and I couldn’t be extra pleased with “Outdated IronSides.”

Probably the most daunting job throughout Warfighter was the motion of the division’s predominant command publish, which entails transporting giant items of kit, and delicate objects akin to computer systems and communications tools. In extra the motion of dozens of navy automobiles and lots of of personnel can include many logistical challenges.

“This job is extraordinarily complicated as a result of we’ve operations parts [teams of Soldiers] conducting recon, surveying engineering facets to safe a location, and the flexibility to get to terrain.” mentioned Lt. Col. A. Geoff Miller, commander of the Headquarters Battalion, 1st Armored Division.

Miller, a local of Roswell, N.M., added that his Troopers had been very important to making sure that essential tools was moved in a well timed method to conduct navy operations successfully.

The train additionally served as a studying expertise for the unit’s youngest Troopers.

“One of the best factor I realized was to maintain your composure and belief in your workforce,” mentioned Pfc. JerMichael Bunch, from Kingston, Penn., who serves as a fireplace management specialist with the division’s fires part. “You’re all the time transferring, and hearth missions accumulate. I didn’t notice how necessary I used to be till Warfighter. I like what I do, and I really like my part. They ready me to see the larger image.”

The Warfighter train was not unique to the first Armored Division and included a number of models throughout the U.S. Military. The third Infantry Division from Fort Stewart, Georgia, the 82nd Airborne Division from Fort Bragg, North Carolina, and the III Corps employees from Fort Hood, Texas additionally participated on this large-scale train.

For the Iron Troopers, this train is a key milestone within the division’s ongoing journey of coaching and operational readiness.

“I’ve seen huge enhancements alongside the way in which,” mentioned Command Sgt. Maj. Gary Yurgans, senior enlisted advisor of Headquarters Battalion, 1st Armored Division. “We’re pleased with our preparations and efforts put in by our Troopers, to work as a workforce and are available collectively.”

from SpicyNBAChili.com http://spicymoviechili.spicynbachili.com/1st-armored-division-participates-in-warfighter-exercise-to-enhance-operational-readiness-defence-blog/

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joesbrownusa · 8 years ago

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