#oren writes

[two-am-outlines-only]

Breathe and Relax

Summary: Logan has been an appreciated, steadying presence in Janus’ life since college; the way he finds out he’s Logan’s comes as a pleasant surprise.

Warnings: none

Ships: Lociet, Logan x Janus

Word Count: 1,558

AO3 Link

Logan had always been wound rather tight. It wasn't as if that was a particularly bad thing most of the time, having the presence of mind for proper time management was a very good quality to have. Group projects were always a daydreamers nightmare with the man, everyone's skills and time taken into account (with little exceptions) and put into a schedule that made it easy for everyone to follow as long as you did actually follow it. Janus remembers college fondly sitting back in amusement as the other students tried to argue against the raging nerd and his binders but eventually it was well known by even the teachers that if you wanted a group project done and done right and done early you went to Logan.

As organized as he was, and still is, it made sense for things to slip through the cracks. One could only account for so much and he certainly couldn't be blamed for not being able to predict the future. Not that the stubborn man would ever listen to the little bit of logic Janus could add to his mindset every now and again.

"I just don't understand why it had to happen today of all days! It's completely unprofessional for any standard of etiquette, not to mention if I were someone else and didn't have all of the paperwork organized beforehand I would be at even more of a disadvantage! I accounted for weather and traffic for two days from now, not today, but now they're going to think I can't handle the job because I can't handle a change in plans, which I clearly can't and-"

Janus slowed his quick pace as the other continued to rant, watching as he frantically fixed his tie and tried to smooth his hair at the same time. The power had gone out this morning, resetting Logan's clock and making him wake up late and subsequently missed checking his email until even later where he had found the appointment for his job interview had been moved up due to scheduling complications. He had called Janus while trying to gather everything nearly crying in frustration, to which he had of course rushed over to help and had a cab waiting to drive them to the lab. Then of course traffic had backed up and rather than waiting for it to clear Logan had quickly paid and tipped before making his way down the block to the research lab himself, just barely restraining the urge to sprint.

They were nearly there but as the other continued to ramble and shake his pace only quickened, nervous energy visible from a mile away. Fortunately Janus had been friends with him long enough to know a spiral when he saw one. "Logan, come here."

"What?" Logan stopped and whirled around, breathless and tense as Janus approached him. Taking the briefcase from his hands he took them into his own and gently rubbed the knuckles as he looked earnestly into Logan's eyes.

"Breathe." Taking a deep breath to demonstrate, he held it for a moment before releasing it, watching Logan to the same. Janus smiled as he closed his eyes, face relaxing as he took measured breaths along with him, the tense muscles in his hands finally relaxing in Janus' secure hold.

Taking them away he ignored the soft whine the other let out. "Relax."

He reached for Logan's tie, straightening it just so and carefully smoothing out the slightly rumpled shirt. Logan tracked his movements while he fixed his polo cuffs and threaded gentle fingers through his hair to neaten his current windswept appearance. Smiling Janus settled his hands on his shoulders before leaning forward to press his lips to Logan's forehead.

"You are handsome." A kiss to his left cheek. "And intelligent." Another to his right. "And you are going to do amazing things even if you don't get this job." One more to the very tip of his nose. "Which you and I both know you will because of how hard you worked for it. A few minor set backs isn't going to stop you."

Catching the look of pure adoration in the others eyes Janus blushed furiously and leaned down to hide his face, shoving the briefcase into Logan's hands and turning him around in the same movement. "Now, shoulders back, head up and move! You're going to be late and I have no patience for another breakdown."

Hearing Logan's laugh was like getting front row seats to an orchestra, loud and booming with enough emotion to set Janus' chest aflame. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched Logan make his way to the doors with much more confidence than he had shown before, taking another visibly steadying breath as he pushed the doors open and disappeared.

-----

"...and I was the one that had to tell them what they were smelling was chlorine gas, which meant that entire section of the building had to be evacuated until it was sorted out. Honestly how half of them ended up with degrees contradicts all logic."

Janus snorted through his pizza as his boyfriend ranted on about his coworkers. It was funny to think a year ago he wasn't sure if he would get the job at all and now he stood as one of the only competent people there. His sudden blush thankfully went unnoticed as he realized that a year ago they had still only been friends, though he supposed that's when the pining may have started. They had both been oblivious idiots back then and though they still were the difference was now they were officially on their first date at a hole in the wall pizza joint with good reviews and better service.

They continued to swap stories and rants, occasionally flying off topic when a particular phrase or topic reminded them of a side project they were working on or a book they wanted to read (which led to them agreeing a library date would definitely be next, as unoriginal as it was). When their plates were clean and the waiter tipped and they could no longer find an excuse to stay, Janus felt himself being tugged by the hand down the block, much to his flustered amusement.

"Did you forget something at work?" He asked in confusion seeing where they were headed.

"Not exactly." Logan's cryptic answer did little to sate his curiosity but he kept quiet as they neared the building. Suddenly they stopped and Logan dropped his hand, an action he tried not to pout over as the other began looking around. Janus smiled, biting down his concern as he was gripped gently by the shoulders and steered a couple feet back before Logan nodded in satisfaction.

"Breathe." Janus huffed out a laugh at the request, taking a steadying breath nonetheless. His hands twitched with uncertainty until Logan took them into his own, grip soft and sure as he rubbed the knuckles. "Just relax."

"Logan-"

"I wanted to thank you-"

The both laughed as they started to speak over each other but Janus tipped his head to the side in question. "Thank me for what?"

"For everything. You reigned me in at college and helped me through my worst moments. You helped me study and let me talk to you about things you didn't really have any interest in. You were my first friend and the only one who stuck around after graduation." He chuckled quietly. "Janus you even helped me get my dream job."

"I hardly think I was any help with that. You had the qualifications for it."

"I woke up late, the interview time was moved, everything was going wrong but you helped me walk in looking as confident as I needed to be to get it."

"I-" Janus let the sentence hang as Logan leaned forward slowly, allowing him to pull away if he wanted, which he definitely did not.

"You're handsome." A kiss to his left cheek. "And intelligent." A kiss to his right. "And you've helped me more than you'll ever know." One more to the tip of his nose. "I feel so very lucky to be finally dating you."

Janus' face burned as a feeling of Deja vu settled itself in the back of his mind. Had he really remembered?

He watched as Logan flicked his gaze to his mouth, blushing furiously. "I was too nervous to kiss you then but...may I now?"

"If you don't I'm breaking up with you on the spot." Logan laughed outright before leaning forward again.

And oh.

Careful fingers threaded through the hair at the base of his neck, pulling Janus forward as his own hands flew to Logan's waist. It was simple, chaste and sweet and Janus' mouth still tasted like pizza but so did his and it was their first kiss and it was perfect. Standing in the dark in front of a research lab that had questionable safety regulations with what he could tell was gum stuck to his shoe and Logan in his arms pressing their foreheads together and Logan looking at him with as much adoration as he had a year ago and Logan gently stroking his thumbs against his neck and Logan Logan Logan-

Everything settled at once as Janus closed his eyes to breathe.

And relaxed.

[viperdove-if]

What's an arranged marriage trope without the 'fake being in love in public or we're totally screwed' trope?

Just to get a feel of my writing, here is a scene with m!O. (Though not edited so please excuse any clunky writing!)

Edit: Just noticed the screenshot is quite small. Sorry!

[magerywrites]

damnatio memoriae (hortis de escapismo spoilers)

“Federico,” Oren says, leaning up against the stone archway as he watches Federico fold a series of dusty, once-white blankets, “why did you shoot Arturia Giallo, if you knew it wouldn’t do anything?” “It was a warning.” His voice is low, clipped, but not in frustration—it’s just how he speaks. Oren raises a thick eyebrow. “A warning? A six-inch shell to the skull is a hell of a way to give a warning.” “Yes,” Federico says, and does not elaborate. Federico, Oren, and what might possess a man to try and shoot his sister in the head.

[pen-of-roses]

Rain

Guess what I managed to do two of the prompts for @ockissweek and this one is actually soft! I promise. I offer no such promises for the rest of the week.

Taking a deep breath to enjoy the earthy scent in the air, they leaned against the stones and tipped their head back, eyes closed. Rain hit their face in fat, cold droplets. A steady shower that could maybe wash off the fragments of pain and fear still choking them, even if it couldn’t chase away the piercing gold behind their eyelids. 

Their fingers dug into the dirt. It felt like the right thing to do, even if they couldn’t say why.

Maybe Calla was right, and they really were some sort of plant.

At the very least, it was comforting, calling forth slivers of memories: a voice telling them to relax and breathe in a language they didn’t remember the name of, a heavy blanket draped over their shoulders, a wide grin and kind eyes, the smell of a strong floral tea.

Heavy footsteps and a tap on their shoulder drew them back to the present. Though, as they blinked up at Oren, they half expected him to be holding a steaming mug. But his hands were empty, instead rubbing up his arms to stave off the cold. “Did you know it’s raining?”

They raised their eyebrows in a shocked expression, glancing from him to the sky and back with an exaggerated move of their head.

Snorting and rolling his eyes, he waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, yes,” he signed, “very funny. Calla said I should make sure you wouldn’t wash away, but I can see you’re fine.”

“I like it,” they signed . “Think I used to do,” they paused for a moment and then motioned at their seated position and the sky, “this, before. With…” Frowning, that smile and those eyes from before flickered, fading in the fog with everything else.

“With?”

“Someone.” With a half hearted shrug, they blew a frustrated breath and looked out into the dark expanse of mountain around them.

Oren’s quiet “oh” was barely audible over the rain’s persistent tapping. “Well,” his voice drew out the word, drawing their attention back to him, before he continued , “I can leave you to it then.”

“No, I think I’d like the company?” They bit their lip, their shoulders raising as they looked up at him.

His face twitched as he turned his head up to the sky.

When he looked down again, they raised their hands and started, “It’s fine–”

But he only sighed and dropped down next to them, bumping their shoulders together. “The things I do for the two of you.” He shook his head, but was smiling through it.

They laughed, leaning their head against his. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stubble scratched their skin as he turned to place a gentle kiss on their forehead. “If I catch a cold though, you’re going to have to take care of me.”

“I don’t already?”

“Watch it, see if I give you an extra helping tomorrow!” He scowled trying to move away, but they just pulled him closer, wrapping their arms around him to provide some warmth and placing their own kiss on his cheek. His face fell into something softer then and he blinked a few times. A moment later, he signed, “Love you Silver.”

They swallowed. Then, offered a small and fragile smile in return, their head onto his shoulder.

[painsandconfusion]

Back To Your Roots

With You - Part Fourteen

(tw: chemical burns, noncon haircut, yandere, domestic abuse, kidnapping) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Robin’s hair was red.

At least, it was right now. Ida assumed, anyway. She changed it a lot. Never quiet. Never simple. Never the same for more than a week at least in style, or a month in color. And she’d only had Red for two weeks now.

It was only a couple weeks ago that Robin finally convinced Ida to dye their hair. 

“A little something special - to showcase who you are and how you want the world to see you. Not just how you were born,” she’d explained to them.

Ida had been wanting to for a long time. They’d stared at the midnight blue dyes on endless hours of scrolling in bed, and brushed off when Robin asked if they wanted to dye it. 

“Nah,” they’d hummed, tucking their phone onto the nightstand. “It would stain my hair.”

“So?” Robin just curled up closer. “Then you can bleach it or dye it again. It’s your hair. You can do whatever you want with it.”

“..it’s too much upkeep. I’ll stick with what I have.” They’d pressed a kiss to Robin’s hand, and that was the end of that conversation.

On the other hand, Oren always loved their hair. Loved it long and straight and white as fallen snow. “That’s what makes you special,” he’d said. “It’s something unique about you - so few people look like you, why would you ever want to change that?” He’d kissed their lips, and that was the end of that conversation. 

His words must have still haunted them, even years after they’d left his house, running off into the night and leaving him with a knife in his gut within crawling distance of his cellphone.

It had taken almost five whole years until Robin eased Ida into the idea of making their hair their own again. Not a trophy or a reminder of how they were so different from everyone else. Just…theirs. Nothing special. Theirs. 

The hairdresser was so gentle and sweet. She’d massaged shampoo into their hair and chattered endlessly with Robin as she worked. She’d tried to pull Ida into conversation, but Ida shrugged off most of it, more than content to listen to Robin chatter about their cat and her books and the newest cardigan she’d found at the thrift store. Neon green, this time. A ‘perfect match’ for her navy skirt and royal purple scarf.

Ida so often wished they could be like her. Wished they would dare to wear bright, crazy colors and outfits made up of seven different styles. Bold enough to change their color weekly and chatter with hairdressers. 

But..Ida was changing. They’d put a little color into their life now. 

They’d let someone else touch their hair now. 

They were outside and talking to other humans, and even getting a small strip over their left ear shaved away so they could pull the midnight blue and silver streaked mass off to one side. 

It was so recent that it barely felt like a memory. It felt as it were still happening. That Oren’s fingers in their hair were the hairdresser’s. That his humming chatter was local gossip. That the aches that puckered across their flesh was just their imagination. 

Oren’s voice made quick work of that breach to reality. 

“You know, I’m not sure why you did this. I just really don’t understand,” he muttered, fingers tracing over their part where silvery white had started to grow underneath the midnight blue, pushing it up and out of the way. 

“It’s not you at all. Were you trying to look like someone else??” 

Ida stared at the kitchen wall, numb and hollow and silent. 

His hands slid down their jaw and gripped it gently, tilting their head back until their eyes met his. “..that wasn’t a rhetorical question, dove.”

Ida’s stomach twisted as their eyes searched his. Trying to gauge how much danger was behind those words. 

“..I wasn’t trying to look like anyone else.”

Oren frowned, thumbs brushing down their cheeks. Resting at the top, then sliding down again. Again and again and again. Petting them like a cat.

“Then why did you do it?”

Ida’s face pinched slightly. Of course he wasn’t going to go long without mentioning their hair. Why did they think they’d be able to get away with that? As if he just wouldn’t notice that their hair was blue now. 

“..I…I don’t know.”

Oren sighed, leaning down over the back of the chair to press a lingering kiss to their forehead. “Precious thing,” he murmured. Nuzzling a little. “You don’t know anything when I’m not around, do you?”

Ida’s stomach was starting to churn now. Eyes squeezing gratefully shut. They’d take his lips over his eyes. Gladly.

Fingers curled in, almost bruising at the underside of their jaw as Oren’s breath warmed against their forehead. Ida strained, back aching at the angle as they squirmed away from bruising fingertips.

They hadn’t answered. Right-

“..no-”

Evidently that was good enough. His fingers unwrapped slightly, smoothing up and through their hair again. “We’re going to fix this.” With one more kiss to their forehead, he pulled back, taking their hand to guide them to standing.

Ida chewed on their lip, but followed as he wanted. Anywhere he wanted. 

Evidently that was out of the room. The floorboards seemed to creak a little louder than usually as they crossed the foyer and moved up the steps. Into the bathroom.

..that wasn’t figurative, was it. He was going to get rid of the blue. Get rid of what tiny piece of Robin they had here. 

Ida’s eyes burned as he dragged a chair to the sink, turning it around. He guided them to it. 

Ida didn’t fight it. 

How could they? 

There wasn’t any stopping this, so why bother. 

They just sat, hands curled around each other in their lap. Stomach in knots.

Oren turned on the tap, fingers pressed to their forehead to tilt their head back over the sink. Ida was good. They followed the push and slumped down in the seat so their head rested on the edge of they porcelain, hair ready to shift into the stream. 

Oren pressed a quick kiss to their lips as he tugged their hair out into the bowl and started thoroughly wetting it. “This will be good. You’ll start feeling so much more like yourself again. Maybe you’ll start singing, hm?” He took a moment to dip and nuzzle their nose with his. 

So, he wanted them singing more.

Ida took a note of that, letting their eyes close against the water and the proximity and the light in their eyes. “..maybe,” they breathed. Staying quiet. 

They tried to think back to that little barber shop. 

Tried to feel Robin’s hand holding theirs. 

They let the world slip away, and let themself believe, if only for this moment, that the hands in their hair were that hairdressers - Ida couldn’t stop kicking themself for forgetting her name-

They imagined the radio playing crackling, distant music - a song they’d heard a million times but never remembered the words to. Country. Warm and upbeat and nostalgic. 

Robin’s voice. Janet Finch plots debated, and local gossip. Not Oren’s soft humming. Not his hands. Not the smell of bleach too strong for this to be the hairdresser’s. 

Tin foil. That was familiar. 

Oren tore it with his teeth, wrapping lumps of hair up in the stuff before tilting them up in the chair. A washcloth dabbed at the drips that moved down their neck.

This was it. There wasn’t any stopping it now. Even if they ran and screamed and rinsed it away, the bleach had plenty of time already to damage the midnight blue that Robin had to painstakingly supported / pestered them into getting. 

Ida could see her face in the darkness when their eyes were closed. Her little hands poking and prodding and fretting with how the fresh lockes laid. 

Gentle. 

Simple and kinda, yet bubbling with excitement and compliment.

But that was then. And this was now.

Ida’s face pinched, eyes finally opening again to look up at Oren. As the world pressed back to the scent of pine and bleach and citrus, Ida’s scalp started to tinge. Started to scratch and burn as if hair was being ripped out at the root. 

Their hands lifted, distress on their face as they reached for the foil - only to be caught in Oren’s.

“Don’t touch it, it needs to sit.”

Ida felt a whine press from their throat, hands pulling against Oren’s. “..O-..Oren, it…it burns-”

He shushed them, leaning in to press a kiss to their nose. “It won’t take long. I don’t want you half green now just because it’s uncomfortable.”

Tears brimmed at Ida’s eyes as they started pulling against him in ernest. “N-no it- it’s -ssomethign’s wrong this isn’t right-”

Oren’s jaw set. Fingers tightened around their wrists until bones shifted under his grip. A pressure that promised blooming bruises by tomorrow. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me. It’s already going to be ruined with how much I’ve done with it now. It’s not like you can save it.”

The tears slid hot down their face as they shriveled under his grip. “Ore, please-I-Im nnot lying - it- it hurts Oren please-”

Oren’s lips just pinched into a thin line. “It’s only going to take a few more minutes. Just relax.”

Ida’s head shook, pulling against him again. “O-ren please-”

Oren groaned, letting go of one of their hands to reach up to the foil. “Just chill, it’s n-” He stopped, frowning. Touching the foil. Again. “..why’s it so hot-?”

Ida just dissolved into sobs, free hand now clutching at his shirt. Some unknown ghost was ripping their hair off by scalpy bits, shoving flame at the tears to cauterize it. It flickered and tingled and screamed at them in a cacophony of sensation and warnings. “Ore- pl-lease-”

Oren finally let go of their other hand, shoving the foil off. 

It splat into the sink easily. What should have freed them left nothing dangling down to touch their neck - even at this angle. 

“..fuck,” he muttered, faucet turning on again. “Head back again, love - I’m gonna rinse this out.”

That command, they had no problem following. They shoved themself toward the water, begging it to put out the fire - even if Oren’s fingers on their scalp burned, the water soothed it and helped shove away the worst of the pain. 

“..didn’t even take out half the fuckin’ color,” he grumbled, scrubbing at their scalp until Ida was crying fresh again. 

They caught a glimpse of the foil as it dropped into the trash can, long strands of blue and white flickering through the air before falling out of view. 

..how much was gone???

Their hands pressed over their face, shielding their eyes and stifling their sobs into muffled shadows of what they could be. 

They held still. 

They were good.

They didn’t move besides shifting as per his instruction as he shoved out the last of the chemical, dried their hair, and fretted with it, trying to coax what was left to frame their face. 

Ida couldn’t look at him - they certainly couldn’t look in the mirror. 

There was a long silence as he stared at them. 

“..I’m just gonna shave it. You didn’t need it, anyway. It’ll grow back fresh and white and perfect.”

..what were they supposed to say to that. 

Nothing.

They were supposed to say nothing. 

They just trembled a nod, face still tucked safely into their hands. A kiss pressed to their knuckles, and he started moving. 

They held still. Listening to him opening the drawer. To the chord unwinding. To the plug clicking into place. To the soft electric hum. 

They whimpered, but didn’t move as the teeth of the razor scraped across furious scalp, rippling burning pain down their spine. They pulled their legs up, arms wrapping around them. 

They held still. 

They were quiet.

They were good.

They didn’t move or breathe more than necessary as piece after piece fell down around them and to the ground. 

They’d probably be the one to clean them up later. 

It barely took a minute. Then it was gone. 

Everything was gone.

“Go on, dove. You can look now.” A hand slid over their hair, roaming over the half inch strands and ghosting over burns they didn’t have to see to know they were there. 

Ida looked. They looked if only to appease him.

A stranger stared back at them through the glass. Eyes red and white from crying. Hair hacked down to a patchy remnant of what remained. The white strands were so thin, they barely seemed there at all. 

Oren’s shirt. 

Oren’s home. 

Oren’s dove.

They turned, pressing their face into him. Escaping their own reflection. 

Oren cooed soft laments as he scooped them up, keeping their face tucked into him as he carried them out of the bathroom. “It’s all done now. It’s all done and you did so good for me, dove.”

They clung to him even after he set them down on the bed, muffled sobs curling into his shirt even further than their fingers - their entire self buried in him. Wishing he could make the rest of the world go away. At least for a moment. 

Oren was good. He obeyed them as they did him. He moved easily and smoothly, pulling them both onto the bed and moving blankets up and over Ida so they wouldn’t have to let go of him or even look up. He cradled them close, rocking back and forth a little as he pressed kisses to the edges of the burns. “It’s all done. All done now.”

This time, Ida couldn’t bring themself to pretend it was Robin’s arms holding them.

He’d never be her.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @kesskirata @wormwriting @batfacedliar-yetagain @paranoiaxagent @siren-of-agony @lwkshrav @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions  @pinkieglitterheart  @whumpasaurus101  @shameless-dumbass @darlingwhump @whumpy-catfish)

As always, just lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

If anyone knows where heathen-whump wibbly-wobbly-whump hold-back-on-the-comfort and mable-donut went please tell :(

.

This is the color Ida has(d), by the way-

It's shorter and thinner, but that exact same color and fade.

[recallback-art]

I've been chipping away at this for a second now, so I'm hype to finally post it. You can think of it as a hypothetical cover page for something I've been working on - but it was a fun experiment either way.

Really enjoy doing these bigger ambitious pieces, feel like I'm getting a lot better at art and enjoying it more in doing so.

[laurelsofhighever]

Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins Characters/pairings: Alistair x Cousland Chapter: 3/? Rating: T Warnings: None Fic Summary: The story of the Fifth Blight, in a world where Alistair was raised to royalty instead of joining the Grey Wardens.

Read it on AO3

--

Cloudreach, 9:29 Dragon

The Couslands ate breakfast together every morning, by tradition. Compared to the dinners in the great hall it was an informal event taken in the library, at a round, walnut table draped with embroidered linen, with the morning light streaming through windows that looked north over the sea. After setting the places, the servants retreated to have their own meal, and, left to the privacy of each other’s company, the family helped each other to platters of eggs, cooked meat, and fruit. The dogs – Bryce’s Mallard and Rosslyn’s Cuno, still with the gangliness of puppyhood – also had their place, tucking into their own breakfasts on leather mats laid out to save the priceless Rivaini carpets from the ravages of slobber and grease.

If not for their grand surroundings, the Laurel motifs decorating the furniture and the rich weave of their clothes, they might have been any ordinary family, with ordinary squabbles. The battle on this particular morning raged around Oren, who had inherited the strong Cousland jaw and his mother’s onyx-dark eyes. He sat high in his cushioned chair, digging through his bowl of porridge for the dried apple slices hidden in its depths and ignoring the entreaties from both his parents to behave.

“I’m three-and-a-half,” he insisted, when Oriana dipped her own spoon into the bowl to try and coax at least one proper mouthful.

Across the table, Eleanor levelled a disapproving stare at her grandson. “When your father was three-and-a-half he knew the benefit of eating everything on his plate,” she told him. “How do you think he got to be so tall?”

Oren’s eyes went wide, turning on his mother. “Is it true?”

“Yes, pequeño,” Oriana replied, ever-patient. “We want you to grow big and strong.”

“And Aunt Rosslyn too?”

Rosslyn glanced up from her book. She had taken to bringing one to breakfast in recent months to keep her own company while the rest of the family got on with their business – there was no one else to talk to, after all, and if she kept herself occupied with such volumes as The Travels of Ebullient Ser Claremore of Stannis it distracted her from the reason why misery gnawed at her like a mouse, stopped her dwelling on the fact that it was her own bloody fault no letters had come from Denerim since the Landsmeet.

“All Couslands eat their porridge,” she replied mildly. “Haelia and Mather started the tradition when they drove the werewolves out of the North.”  

A white lie, but the renowned twins, heroes even among the famed and fabled ranks of Cousland ancestors, had held Oren’s imagination like little else could since he heard the story, the illuminations in the family book weaving him tales of wild chases through the forest and daring battles waged against fang and claw.

“I wish you wouldn’t read at the table,” her mother chided, as if she had only just noticed.

“Aldous wants me to broaden my horizons.”

Her father’s eyebrow lifted, amused. “I doubt Aldous meant for your studies to get in the way of your table manners, Pup.”

“It’s not like anyone’s here,” Rosslyn pointed out. “And besides –”

The door to the library opened, cutting off the rest of her protest to admit a human page in a woollen surcoat of deep Laurel blue.

“Calmett?” Bryce turned at the intrusion.

Calmett bowed. “Forgive me, Your Lordship, but a letter just arrived by courier. I thought you’d want to read it.” He offered over a square envelope of thick, cream-coloured paper on a silver tray and Rosslyn saw the flash of a scarlet seal on the back when her father took it.

“‘To His Lordship, Bryce Cousland’,” he read.

Fergus, who was closer, peered at the direction. “That’s rather formal for Alistair.”

The air squeezed from her lungs. She did not miss the curious glance her brother sent her across the table, nor how Oriana’s brow furrowed; it would be one thing for the king to write to the teyrn himself, formal and aloof, but Alistair knew them as well as family and had long since grown out of the shrinking need to call his foster-father by his title.

Cheeks warming, she dropped her gaze to her plate of half-eaten jam toast, though not quite fast enough to avoid catching her mother’s eye. It was a steady look, a shared confidence; it reminded her of the noble’s mask she had been taught, the blank face required to stare down your worst enemy and make them flinch first. She straightened her shoulders. As her father read the letter she watched with a face of mild, polite interest, taking in the downward pull of his brows as he went on, the way the corner of his mouth flattened into the greying edges of his beard.

“Well? What does it say?” Fergus asked.

Startled, Bryce looked up. “He’s being sent to Starkhaven. From Denerim. King Cailan wishes him to be an aide to the ambassador.”

Fergus clicked his tongue. “Surely Cailan would have allowed him to travel from Highever if he had asked.”

“It isn’t for you to second-guess the king,” Bryce chided, his voice unusually severe. “There might be any number of reasons why the ship left berth at Denerim.”

For a moment, the table stewed in the tension chafing between the teyrn and his eldest child, until Fergus turned his head away with a nod and a sigh and picked up his spoon again. Unnoticed by either of them, Rosslyn frowned at the paper in her father’s hands, the guilt that churned in her stomach for driving Alistair away aclash with a growing anger at his lack of loyalty, his cowardice. Ever since he had first gone to Denerim, no correspondence had ever come back to Highever without at least a small note addressed to her. Did he think no one would notice the change? Did he fear her so much, or put such value on his injured pride that he would shield himself behind the king’s will to neglect his duty to her family?

“May I see the letter?” she asked.

Her father gave her a long look, but passed it to her all the same, as gently as if the paper itself might bite. Curbing her annoyance, she unfolded it and scanned the lines. The unmistakeable scrawl that Aldous had tried so hard to smooth out in their lessons was unchanged, the words short, signed at the bottom with a formality out of place for the person she knew. Despite this, glimmers of humour shone through the stiff, careful style, pulling a traitorous twitch from her lips as she read:

Your Lordship –

I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing you this news in a letter instead of coming to tell you in person. King Cailan has requested that I go to Starkhaven to assist the ambassador there, and since he requires no delay, I’ll be sailing from Denerim as soon as the ship is loaded and the tide is with us. It’s likely I’ll pass by Highever at the same time this letter reaches you – just in case, I’ll wave from my cabin and keep my eyes towards the castle.

If all goes well and I don’t make a complete fool of myself stepping off the ship at journey’s end, it may be some time before I can return to Ferelden, and so this is – for now – a farewell. This is a great opportunity for me to ‘cut my diplomatic teeth’, as my brother keeps on telling me, but I could not leave without at least writing to thank you for everything you have done for me. Without your kindness I don’t know where I would have been by now, but it certainly wouldn’t be here, and I will be forever grateful for that. I hope in return I’ll be able to do you proud.

In my own hand,

Alistair Theirin

It took two days for a courier to take a message from Denerim along the coast, maybe less if the relay used good horses, but half a day less still to cover the distance by water. He would be out on the open sea by now, with Ferelden a smudge of green on a distant horizon.

Starkhaven. It was a place she knew by reputation and court gossip more than anything else. Nate had spoken of it well enough since leaving to become a squire to one of the knights there, and in his own quiet way had painted a picture of exotic markets and gilded palaces merry with the splash of fountains. At least he would be a familiar face to help Alistair orient himself, such a long way away from home.

She wished he had written to her.

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

ohhhh lord here we go

[two-am-outlines-only]

Soulmate September

Series Summary: Written for the Soulmate September challenge. Every day is a different soulmate au prompt and ship. 

Part Summary:  Virgil goes deeper into the forest than he’s ventured before in the hopes of gathering more food. He finds more than he bargained for when a fairy claiming to be the prince of the forest begins to follow him.

Prompt: Feel a spark when you touch your soulmate

Ships: Prinxiety (Roman x Virgil)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 3959

AO3 link

Part One: Sparks Fly

Tugging his long, dark cloak impatiently away from a jagged branch, Virgil skid down the steep embankment swearing the entire way. He didn’t often venture this far into the woods but he was getting just desperate enough to find gatherable ingredients he had decided to risk it. Honestly as long as he kept his eyes straight ahead and avoided the beckoning twinkles of light between the trees he should be fine. Thankfully this time of year the river was reduced to a large creek at best, making crossing to the other side where he was certain to find berries and mushrooms aplenty quite easy. It was only a matter of keeping his balance on the slimy rocks that normally made up the river bed, a skill he had mastered before he had even been entrusted as a gatherer.

Hiking his pants up to just below his knees he carefully adjusted his pack to be more balanced and draped the bottom of his cloak over his arm for good measure. The last thing he needed was to be scolded for dripping mud all over the floors again when he returned to the kitchens. Absentmindedly rubbing the stinging memory from the back of his head he hopped to the first rock, breath hissing between his teeth as the cold water rushed over his heated skin. With another breath he was perched on the second rock and then the third, toes gripping the moss in a mostly unneeded measure for stability. Wiggling a bit so his pack would recenter he eyed his next target, muscles tensing in preparation for the bigger leap.

“What are you doing?”

Squawking in alarm, Virgil tipped back dangerously, arms pinwheeling as his feet lost their purchase and let him fall backwards into the creek. Taking a brief moment to thank the gods he hadn’t landed on a rock he sat up quickly, sputtering as water ran down his face and soaked his shirt more than it already was. His cloak dragged behind him as he tried to get up, aiding only in him slipping back again with an unceremonial splash.

“Oh my dear I didn’t mean to frighten you!” There was more mirth than malice in the voice but that didn’t stop Virgil from flinching away from the strange hand that reached towards him. It retreated as he shoved sopping hair from his eyes and squinted against the sun to try and see what idiot made it a habit to scare people when they were jumping on wet stones. His breath caught when a face finally came into focus, sunlight forming a halo around the most beautiful person Virgil had ever seen.

His brightness was almost blinding, with shining red curls looking like spun gold in the light. Sharp features complemented kind brown eyes and tanned skin flecked with earth. Like Virgil he was barefoot, but instead of wearing sturdy pants and shirt to protect himself from the woods, autumn-red pants flowed just below his knees with an equally flowy white shirt tucked into them and unbuttoned to the chest. Despite the darkness of his skin he seemed to radiate his own gentle light that somehow made the sun look dull by comparison, making Virgil idly wonder if this was what seeing a god was like.

“Prince actually, but you do know how to inflate the ego.” The man chuckled.

Face burning with the realization that he had not only said that out loud but he had also been sitting in the water gaping like a stunned fish for entirely too long. Mumbling low curses under his breath he once again struggled to his feet while waving away the other’s outstretched hand impatiently. A fairy prince coming to pester someone with zero assets or connections- the fae were worse pranksters than they had the reputation for. Sighing, he decided to wade the rest of the way through the creek since he was already soaked, leaving the stranger behind in hopes he would stay there.

“So you never did answer.” No such luck apparently. “You do realize what part of the forest you’re in right?”

Virgil gritted his teeth. “I don’t wish to consort with your kind fae. I’ll only be in here for a little while.”

“My kind?” Virgil winced as he detected insult in his tone. “My kind are the reason your kind feel safe enough to traipse wherever you please regardless of obvious territorial lines!”

Virgil glanced at him quickly as he began scrambling up the incline of the bank. “Territorial lines?”

The man drew himself up proudly, keeping pace with Virgil as he effortlessly stepped his way up the embankment rather than crawling. “This part of the forest is mine, a long way from the edge of the river by your route. I could turn you into dandelion fluff for trespassing here.”

Virgil raised an unimpressed brow as he searched around for his next handhold. “Mhm, I’m sure you could.”

Smirking as the other man stomped his foot impatiently he made it up and over to the other side, slinging his pack around to see how damaged the things he had already gathered were from his earlier fall. Shoulders sinking as he surveyed the smashed contents he shot a glare at the stranger, who was currently standing on tiptoes with his arms crossed trying to see inside the bag.

“Humans used to grovel at our feet, what happened to that? Also is it custom to smash ingredients well before they’re cooked? I’m not caught up with the latest human affairs. Terribly dull, most of them.”

Gritting his teeth Virgil dumped the berries and mushrooms he had collected onto the forest floor, water that had seeped in from the top sloshing out as well and coming out like a weird, thick juice for all the mush everything had turned into. “They only smashed because I fell- something I never do unless someone decides it's a good idea to startle someone who’s trying to balance.”

The man looked unimpressed. “Why were you coming over this way anyway? There should be plenty of the things you were collecting on the other side of the river...and much closer to the nearest village too might I add.”

“Fall makes the pickings slimmer the closer to the village you are. Other people gather, animals eat what ‘s left, sparcer trees means more sun means things ripen and fall faster. I was trying my luck further in.”

“And you came alone?”

“None of your business.” Virgil hauled up the pack and stood. “I’m a tracker so I’m the one that usually gets sent out.”

“Oh really? Must be an expert to come out this late.”

“Sure.” Grunting, Virgil stepped over a rotting log and began pushing his way through bushes.

The man snorted. “Expert tracker- when I could hear you tromping through here from across the forest.”

“Your words not mine. And stop following me, I’m only here to gather ingredients.”

They continued on in silence for a while, the fae following behind him near silently as he kept an eye out for anything edible. The crops had been plentiful this year but berries, nuts and mushrooms weren’t something locally grown, so gatherers routinely went into the forest to search for them to dry for the winter. Fast protein was always welcome in the harsher months when tracking fresh meat became a dangerous chore.

The forest was quiet here, nearly serene if it wasn’t for the fae still following him no matter how harsh a path he took- not that he was having much luck finding easier ones. He imagined he could easily get lost here if he wasn’t careful so he kept an eye on the direction of the shadows and any landmarks he spotted so he couldn’t get turned around. Fair folk were rarely hostile towards travelers as long as you met them on their level and stated your intentions clearly. Most of the time a certain level of sass while only answering them when they were curious served Virgil just fine. Of course, they didn’t normally follow him either but he remained unconcerned so long as the forest didn’t turn hostile. He didn’t think he’d succeeded in pissing the other off that much...hopefully.

It was some time later when Virgil found his cloak snared on a branch as he was struggling to get over a particularly high log. Crawling under it hadn’t been an option so now he was stuck straddling the thing awkwardly with the cloak snagging in one direction and his pants in the other. Blowing out a frustrated breath he startled as the fae appeared a foot from his face, brown eyes searching his green ones as he struggled not to fall backwards for a second time.

“What are you tracking anyway?”

“What?”

“You’re a tracker, so what are you tracking?”

Virgil resumed trying to lift himself enough to get his other leg over without ripping his pants. “Nothing at the moment. Not that, again, it’s any of your business.”

The fae glanced at the dirt under his nails and hummed thoughtfully. “Mushrooms is it?”

Groaning, Virgil sat back down and instead reached behind him to try and tug his cloak free. “Partly.”

Trying and failing to get his cloak untangled he stumbled as his feet found solid ground after dangling for the better part of ten minutes, nearly overbalancing for the third time that day as the fabric went limp in his stranglehold. Looking up he saw the spot on the river bank he had climbed over not ten minutes before with a significantly lighter pack. Confused, he slung it around and peeked inside only to see it nearly overflowing with varieties of mushrooms he had never seen mixed with the more common ones he had found before. Opening his mouth to speak he quickly shut it as a light breeze carried faint laughter through the trees.

“Feel free to thank me later.” A faint voice called.

Looking down again, he carefully closed the pack and looked up at the sky. It was barely encroaching late afternoon...would anyone believe he had gathered these that quickly? Deciding to just say he had gotten turned around and found a good spot if anyone asked he started hiking his way back as slowly as he could. He’d have to find something to offer as thanks when he came back.

-----

“You’re back.”

Virgil shuffled around a low shrub between the trees awkwardly. “Mhm.”

“Do you need more mushrooms?” The fae crouched on a low branch, balancing on his tip toes as he watched Virgil struggle through the underbrush.

“They asked me to come back- ow!” Stumbling away from the bush he knelt down to tear away some thorns sticking out of his pants. “Since I was so successful yesterday they asked me to come back to find more. Among other things.”

“They?”

“People from the kitchens.” He started off in a slightly different direction, seeing sunlight a little ways away and hoping for a clearing.

“What else do you need?”

“A variety of things to dry for the winter. Nothing to concern yourself with. I won’t invade your forest for too long.”

“A shame. My forest is beautiful but I’ve found I enjoy looking at you more.”

Virgil stopped in his tracks as he tried to process the comment. Was this a trick? Some weird fae flirting technique to get his guard down so he gave away his soul? Which reminded him-

“Not because of that comment, but for helping me the other day.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a smooth skipping stone, the surface a perfect, uniform pale gray. He knew fairies rarely had use for human materials but things like this could be enchanted or used for entertainment- the more pleasing to the eye the better. “Here. And...thank you.”

The man’s eyes lit up at the sight of the stone, taking it carefully and running his fingers gently over the smooth surface. “For me?”

“Don’t expect it again, I don’t expect anything more from you.” Hoping that would settle it, Virgil continued on in the direction of the clearing. Fae were always tricky to get involved with and with the fall harvests approaching, continuing to speak with one claiming to be a prince wasn’t something he would allow himself to get involved with- at most for the sake of the village and at the very least for his own sanity.

“A pity really.” The fae called from behind him. “I could help you find whatever you need.”

Gritting his teeth, Virgil resisted. “I don’t need any help.”

“Right, expert tracker and all that.” He startled as his pest of a companion appeared in front of him waving a hand dismissively. “This is my forest and I can bend it however it suits me at the moment. Right now it suits me to help you, why won’t you let me?”

“I don’t want to owe you anything. Owing things is a risky business- especially with fae. No offense.”

The fae sniffed indignantly, putting a hand dramatically over his heart. “No offense indeed! I suppose this wound was here before you arrived, it’s fine really.”

Virgil glanced over as the other man draped a hand over his eyes and leaned back slightly, sighing loud and deliberate and trying to disguise the fact he was peeking at his human companion from under his arm. Virgil couldn’t help it- he barked out a laugh he managed to quickly catch with a hand slapped over his mouth. Watching as a wide grin took over the fae’s features he realized he was too late and the damage had been done. He stalked over and jabbed the air in front of Virgil with a perfectly manicured finger.

“You like my company!”

Blinking, Virgil lowered his hand. “Absolutely not!”

“You do! You find me amusing! Dare I say charming!”

Snorting, Virgil readjusted his pack. “Uh-huh. Nothing like a raving lunatic spouting he’s royalty to get the giggle juice flowing.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I believe fae will say anything to strike whatever emotion they want in a human. Whether it be fear or awe, the end goal is always to lead someone astray.”

Glancing over he startled when he saw the other man actually looked a bit hurt at his words, head down and eyes flicking to the side with a tight draw to the lips. A trick...obviously. But one that had him reconsidering his choice of words.

“Look I-”

The fae held up a hand. “It’s okay! I’ll prove it to you! You need mushrooms and berries and the like right?”

“Uh- yeah?” Virgil watched as the fae stepped forward and furrowed his brow in concentration. Bringing his arms up towards the clearing he swung his arms out and up before slouching tiredly.

Virgil squinted against the sunlight shining overhead, looking around in wonder. They were in a large clearing absolutely teeming with enough plantlife to fill his pack ten times over. Dappled shade dominated at least half of the clearing as the sun shone through the bright trees at an angle. Soft grass soothed his aching feet that had previously been treading on nothing but snapping sticks and long-dead leaves. It was beautiful- and glancing over at his companion as bright gold shot through his hair and the sudden calming warmth relaxed him- Virgil could tell he was in his element.

“Did you just use magic in front of me?” He honestly hadn’t thought the fae would go that far to prove a point.

“Watch regular fair folk top that for ability.” the fae mumbled under his breath. Speaking up, he flashed a bright smile and punched a hand lightly onto his hip. “Of course! Got the point across didn’t it? Never seen a fairy bend a forest before?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen a fairy perform any magic before. Usually they keep that to themselves. Honestly none of the good neighbors have paid me any mind before whether I was in their territory or not.”

“Oh.” The fae sputtered uselessly for a moment, fluttering his head to his hair to fidget with the curls. “Well, clearly that’s their loss. Berries, was it?”

Face burning, Virgil nodded mutely and made his way over to a far tree that looked like it promised chestnuts in the higher branches. He never figured having company, however forced upon him it was, would be so nice.

Later, when Virgil’s pack was practically bursting at the seams, he reluctantly turned towards home. The afternoon had been wonderful, gathering enough to make the people in the village happy while listening to the other man as he sang almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it. Rich, low tones filled the clearing with a bright melody that Virgil didn't recognize but found himself humming along to- much to his companions utter delight.

It had surprised him when he began singing popular festival songs after that, thinking that fair folk never bothered much with humans and therefore wouldn’t know many traditional tunes. But when Virgil had started softly singing along, offering a wry grin when the other man had started excitedly bouncing on his toes from having a singing partner he couldn’t bring himself to care. Eventually both of them had started getting louder and louder, swaying along to an invisible beat as they had continued collecting what was needed. Another reason Virgil was reluctant to return to the village for fear their noise had reached ears he’d rather not explain himself to. He found it strange that he felt drawn to stay, stranger still that he didn’t immediately think it was some trick on his companions' part. He just- enjoyed his company and wished he could come into the forest to actually visit rather than just his job. Pressing his lips together he turned around, smiling faintly and gesturing to his back.

“You really didn’t have to help, or keep helping. But thank you again-”

“Roman!” The fairy blurted at his slight pause.

Smirking, Virgil cocked his head to one side. “Aren’t I supposed to give you my name first?”

Roman shuffled slightly. “Yes well, seems a shame that if you were to think of me you’d have no name to give the thoughts.”

“Bold of you to assume I think of you after leaving the woods.”

“How could you not?” Striking a bold pose he sniffed indignantly. “It’d be an insult really, wounding me so deeply.”

Chuckling Virgil turned and started walking away. “I’ll be sure to bring bandages next time.”

“It’s a date, Doom and Gloom!”

“That a promise, Sir Sing-a-lot?”

“If my serenades are what brings you back I shall renounce my princehood and become a siren.”

“Your voice is certainly deadly enough, leads to something prettier though.”

The forest was silent for a moment, before Virgil began walking as quickly as possible without stabbing his feet to the edge of the woods. Why had he said that? Did he mean that? Of course he meant it but why on the gods green earth had he said it? Could he even come back now? Chest tight with nervous anxiety and head swimming he didn't look back as he dashed out of the trees.

Though if he had he would have seen Roman standing stock still, face a mask of shock but slowly splitting into a flustered smile below rapidly reddening cheeks.

-----

When Virgil stepped into the creek the following day, it was without his pack. Early evening sunlight drifted through the trees as a slight breeze ruffled the cloak around his shoulders. Pushing his dark hair away from his eyes he surveyed the banks for any sign of Roman, deflating a bit when he saw none. It was stupid to think he could get away with saying something so forthright without reaping anything but negative consequences. It was just as well he supposed, consorting with fair folk never led to anything good after all. He had just- hoped this would be different.

Fair folk and humans rarely mixed well, platonic or not, and once he found his soulmate he was doubtful they would enjoy the thought of fraternizing so casually with one of the good neighbors- especially one as powerful as Roman appeared to be. If he knew anything of the fae it was that one didn't just casually bend an entire forest to their will with so little effort by themselves. Sighing, he turned to leave, feet missing the wispy grass of the clearing as they crunched through dead leaves.

“Going so soon?” Whirling around he was met with a charming smile, Roman balancing on a rock in the middle of the creek with a hip thrust out cockily.

“I thought- I didn’t think you’d come back around.”

“If you were trying to get me to leave, your methods are wanting my friend.” Roman squinted at him curiously. “No pack today?”

Virgil shuffled a bit before answering. “I- just wanted to see you.”

Blinking in surprise, Roman smiled warmly. “What an honor it is that our wants should align. Care to join me?”

Face burning, Virgil was quick to hop to the first rock, finding his balance easily. Keeping his head down he stepped from rock to slippery rock, finally getting close to where he assumed Roman would be. Looking up however, he didn’t expect to be quite as close as he had gotten, vision suddenly filled with deep brown eyes surrounded by flaming red curls. Yelping he tipped backwards, arms reaching forward in a desperate attempt to not repeat their first meeting even as he prepared to go home soaking once again.

To his surprise, the riverbed never rose to meet him, instead finding himself surrounded by the scent of wildflowers and moss in the most comforting embrace he’d ever been in. Virgil tilted his face up when he heard Roman gasp in wonder, his own eyes widening in disbelief as he leaned back to take in their surroundings. Colorful sparks seemed to catch the evening sunset as they bounced off and around them, falling like stars imbued with the colors of the sky and sizzling as they hit the water only to be immediately replaced by ten more.

Leaning back but still catching each other’s arms they watched as the sparks continued to fly around them in a frenzied shower, dimming the already fading sun itself in their wake. Virgil watched as the light caught itself in Roman’s eyes, flecking the brown with golds and brilliant reds and deep purples. Seeing his face literally light up in amazement and wonder, Virgil couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle, then tilting his head back and laughing out loud.

“What- why are you laughing?” Receiving no answer, Roman grinned uncertainly. “Do I have something on my face?”

Shaking his head, Virgil stifled another bout of laughter to answer. “I’ve never seen the sparks of soulmates before. Are they supposed to be this dramatic or is it just because of you?”

Smile turning more genuine and laughing himself, Roman let go of his arms and instead wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted, twirling them around with a sure step even as the water splashed around his feet. Setting him down gently, he rested his forehead against Virgil and held him as close as he could.

“Maybe both- knowing me, probably more of the latter. Do you really mind?”

The sparks were dying down as the sky darkened and yet to Virgil his companion still stood bright enough that he feared nothing the darkness could threaten him with. Leaning impossibly closer he touched Roman’s nose to his own and smiled softly.

“Absolutely not.”

[viperdove-if]

the possibility of o and viper fighting bec they have BURRIED feelings for dove is real. ☠️☠️ The confusion, the toxicity, it is yummy. Dove is just at the corner like 🧍🏻‍♀️

A love triangle sounds fun. (Thinking thoughts...)

[name-centrum]

Name of the day...

Orrin ˎˊ˗

⋆｡˚ . ⋆｡˚ . ⋆｡˚ .

Origin: British, Irish, Celtic

Meaning: River; Green; Mountain; Pale, fair or white.

Notes: The name Orrin is a masculine name that is "an Anglicized form of the Irish/Celtic name Odhrán." (Source)

"Across many traditions, rivers symbolize journeys and the incredible force of nature. It could be a reminder of inner strength, setting your little one off into the world to carve their own path through the world." (Source)

Alternative spellings of the name are Orin, Orinn, Orryn, Oryn, Orynn, Orren, Oren, and Oran.

Other names similar to Orrin are Arrin, Arwin, and Orwin.

Nick-names: Orry, Ryn, Ry

Popularity:

[pen-of-roses]

Dare

Last one for @ockissweek, short and sweet-ish as I'm still trying to figure these characters out

The dim purple light cast flickering shadows on the ruined and overgrown wall. With every pulse, the najligth grew slightly fainter, threatening to go out soon. Could they afford to waste time finding a new one?

Could they afford not to?

Their hand stilled in her hair.

They’d have to risk traveling in the night now, use the dark and shadows to their advantage against those creatures. But even if their own eyes had…changed, Calla and Oren were still only vey, and would need some sort of light. 

Abyss, neither of them shouldn’t even be here. They should be at home, safe, instead of blindly following the stranger they had let into their home into this mess.

The first chance they got, or even any of the following ones, they should have slipped away. Even half feral, they had known danger stalked their steps. They were a harbinger of bad things to come, and selfishly they had stayed, thinking they could have a family, a normal life, just daring the Veyrit to take it all away.

“Talon for your thoughts?” Oren whispered.

They lifted their head from his shoulder to blink at him. Mud still caked his clothes from when he had fallen earlier, and the scrape was still healing over his eye. Yet he still looked at them with concern written plainly over his face.

They looked back down at Calla, using their lap as a pillow and curled close to both of them, looking so much younger when asleep.

None of them fully knew what they had dragged both of them into.

Hesitantly, they raised their hands. “This…I don’t think this will end soon or easily. From what I know, he won’t stop while he thinks that I’m…that person.”

“And we said we’d help you, no matter what, Silver,” he signed.

They shook their head. He had to understand, how could he not see that things had changed? “That was before you knew—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Taking their hands, he kissed their knuckles, before releasing them again. “You are family to us now, and we don’t turn our back on that.”

“I don’t want to see either of you get hurt even more because of me. Or worse. You wouldn’t be in this much danger without me.”

“We might not even be alive without you. Who’s to say how long before those things came to our doorstep anyway?”

Tears welled in their eyes as they met his serious expression.

He took their face in his hands to place another kiss to their forehead, before pulling them to his chest, careful not to wake Calla in the movement. “We’re not going anywhere without you, and you’re not allowed to go anywhere without us. Got it? I dare anyone to try and separate us.”

Nodding, they let him hold them through the tears.

[peachpotions]

Self insert oc’s are generally characters that aren’t you, but embody aspects of yourself so you can express them right?

Thinking about that makes me wonder how you would write yourself as a character. Mind writing me a paragraph or two of how you’d introduce/describe a character completely based off yourself for the reader? I feel like it could be interesting to read what aspects of physical/mental/personality you’d deem important for the reader to know about that character.

I worry this is too big of an ask, but figure worst case is you say no.

I feel like some self-inserts are literally just you but if you were a character in your fav series or w/e, or they can be a character inspired by you and have a lot of your same traits.

I don’t have anything written up rn, but one of my very first OC’s was a witch named Oren, and I put more of myself into her than I’d like to admit haha. She was snarky and had a temper and wasn’t particularly brave, but she loved her friends enough to step up to the challenge. She was also emotional and in her head a lot, kind of scared to face the truth. But then in direct contrast my most recent character (not an insert) is nothing like me, but more who I’d love to be. She’s a buff and tough daughter of Ares who doesn’t play nice with others. She never holds her tongue, and doesn’t overthink- she just acts. Some of me is in there too haha I can’t help it, I made her dress punk and like old music. So yeah idk what that says about me but there ya go

[breeistired]

JJ with Latina reader

Warnings: This is very short, suggestive content, reader is angry, and author is using google translate despite being Mexican

Tropes: Moodyxhappy, poguexpogue, angryxsunshine, golden retrieverxchihuahua.

Summary: JJ spills readers cup and she snaps.

Bree speaks: Hi! Thank you for reading, just answering some questions before I continue writing. I do take reqs, but I do have a busy life, so please bare with me. I don't know how to make a taglist, so if you do, please tell me omg. Also, my askbox is always open, and i love answering questions, so before you go, ask me something! <3 Thank you, any tips are helpful! AND MOST IMPORTANTLY, I AM ADDING THIS TO ALL POSTS, AND IF I FORGET IT @brokenwingsgalore WILL PUT IT IN THE COMMENTS. IF YOU DONT LIKE IT, DONT READ IT!!! Thank you again, I love you and make good choices.

(I STILL DONT KNOW HOW TO MAKE A BOARDER)

Today was supposed to be relaxing.

JJ had already taken you out to the beach, letting you play with the water and find those seashells you loved.

When you and JJ came back to the chateau, you had decided- no demanded you make some birria tacos for dinner.

You were already on edge from finding out JJ was eating moldy bread. But you didn't let that ruin your day... yet.

So JJ sat on the couch with John B and Pope, ranting to them how you had the most perfect ass.

"Have you seen how round it is?" JJ groans and moans quite loudly. John B, who already had a girlfriend was tuning him out, making JJ sound like a white noise in his ear.

Pope simply walks away now.

JJ stands up and starts to walk to you. You were listening to music, swaying your hips to it as you chopped up some tomato for the salsa.

He snakes his arms around your waist giving you a sloppy kiss on your neck.

When you two first started dating, you would push him off and giggle. But its been a year since you both were in the honeymoon phase.

You sigh and let him pepper kisses on your neck, continuing to cook.

Everything seemed perfectly fine, nobody was yelling, John B was finally being quiet, not yapping about Ward.

Pope was doing something outside, nobody ever knew.

Until, JJ goes to kiss you and spills your birria sauce you spent an hour on onto the floor.

You and him look at each other at the same time. You clutch the kitchen towel that was on your shoulder. Narrowing your eyes at him, you take a deep breath and sigh.

He thinks he's off the hook, grabbing your chin and pecking your lips. You smile and slowly push him him away.

Then that's when everything snaps.

"¿Sabes qué, pequeño niño blanco? Estoy tan deprimido con tu pálido trasero." You yell and throw the towel at him.

"Crees que puedes conseguir cualquier cosa, ¿eh? ¡Pues no puedes! ¡Espero que te mueras por tu estúpido culo de comer pan mohoso! Morirías sin mí Maybank." You poke a finger into his chest and roll your eyes.

JJ currently has his hands up in defense. He has a tiny smirk on his face. And you fight the urge to smack him.

JJ knows you want to use physical force, you can't hide your facial expressions very well. And to him, they were quite cute, even if you wanted to murder him.

"Será mejor que borres esa maldita sonrisa de tu cara. Estamos en la cocina, hay cuchillos y no me quieres cerca de los cuchillos, JJ." You frantically run a hand through your hair. By now, Sarah and Kiara have entered the chateau finding you two like this. John B, Kiara, Pope and Sarah have all gathered around watching you basically ripping him a new asshole.

"Ni siquiera dios puede salvarte de mí. Oren para que después de tanto grito no se queme mi birria. Porque si así fuera, puedes despedirte de mi trasero." You deadpan. You wipe your hands on your jean shorts and smile. You wave at the girls, acting as if nothing had happened.

After a few seconds of silence, JJ speaks up.

"Is it a good time to say that turned me on?" JJ mumbles and grins at how you look at him.

"No." Everybody says in unison.

[mafiasliege]

I have a fic idea that one day avery just disappears from oren's sight and this dude's freaking out like all "CODE RED!!!" and all of that but then he sees Jameson, asks him where she is, and he takes oren to a room and avery and other Hawthorne house residents (even laughlins etc) scream "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" With a cake and everything for oren's birthday. At first he's angry but then avery puts a birthday hat on him and he's like "okay… that's actually nice… thank you 👉👈🙂"

I'm begging you someone write it.

[ramonag-if]

Crown of Exile Fun Facts

As writing Chapter 8 is still very much in progress, I thought I'd share some fun facts about the ROs. For this round, I'll share who the ROs were supposed to be but during writing, became a different person 😆

Irus: Irus was supposed to be entitled, arrogant and most importantly, very rude towards the MC and everyone around him. Of course that didn't happen and by the time I wrote his first scenes, he was already shaping up to be a much nicer prince than I envisaged.

Elora: Elora was going to be more cruel and had originally been planned as the love rival to Irus' affections. When I planned her character, she was going to be a no-nonsense ruler who didn't care who she stepped on to get what she wanted. Fortunately, her early interactions with Irus made it clear that a love rival was not the best role suited to her character.

Oren: Oren was planned to be stoic, gruff and very detached from his emotions. Somehow, he became a soft and mild-mannered man who's incredibly fond of his family and not shy to show his emotions.

Anu: Anu was a vaguely planned character who I pictured being the leader of the resistance with a heart of gold. That changed the more I wrote her character into existence and she ended up being brash and volatile.

Do share in the comments if you also imagined different personalities for the ROs!