#qinlar higharrow

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YALL I AM HOLLERIN This is mine and @stationoracle 's OCs, Versailles and Qinlar as drawn by the ever lovely and marvelous @lonicera-caprifolium ! I am so grateful for this, and y'all should absolutely go commission them!

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Shovel Talk

A Ko-fi fic for @stationoracle who specifically requested “Boy bants.” So here’s a conversation between two of our boys who don’t talk much!

https://ko-fi.com/Blog/Post/Shovel-Talk-Q5Q1HT2U?justpublished=true

Want a fic of your very own without the hassle of actually writing? Send me a ko-fi!

“Marcel! Just the man I wanted to see! May I have a word?”

A very full tankard clunked down on the table beside the half-orc’s elbow, and Marc grinned up at the elf offering. “‘Course! Always have time for a friend and a drink!”

Qinlar plunked down in the chair next to him with a smile and propped his head on his elbow. “Wonderful. You know, I really don’t want to dither about this, so let’s just jump in shall we? What exactly are your intentions regarding my brother?”

Marcel spat the mouthful of beer back into his cup, choking. Qinlar probably did that on purpose. “Uh… My purpose? I mean… Fuck mate, I lo- like him, Qin. I like him a lot? I don’t really have a purpose? I mean, he’s smart and really brave and he does this thing with his lips when he smiles-- like he’s not used to it but can’t help it y’know? And he’s so cute when he blushes and he can probably kick my ass no problem which is hot--”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it,” Qinlar interrupted, putting a hand up to stem the flow. “I like you, Marc, I really do. You’re a good friend, both to me and Keir. You’re honestly the first person I’ve seen Keir open up to in the past five years, and that means a lot. It truly does.”

He paused, and Marcel felt a creeping cold pass through him as he sensed a “but” along the way. The cold gave way to true ice as Qinlar’s expression shuttered, transforming into something terrifying.

“Keir’s been through enough tragedy in his life, though he’s probably told you about that. If you hurt him, if you break his heart even the smallest amount, I will annihilate you. They’ll never find the body. Do you understand?”

Marcel gulped. “Y-yessir.”

“Excellent!” And suddenly the storm lifted and Qinlar was all smiles again. “Need a refill?”

With a shaky exhale, Marc shook his head and took a drink. “Piss. You’re horrifying, you know that?”

“Only when I have to be, dear,” Qinlar said, patting Marc’s shoulder. “Only when I have to be.

[writingmask]

Holy cow guys I am so excited! I commissioned the wonderful @ludwigplayingthetrombone for a comic based on a ficlet I wrote between my Qinlar and @stationoracle 's Sai in our D&D au and I am totally blown away! Look at the shading! The faces! Gah it is too good!

And I also get to post the ficlet which is below the cut!

Qinlar paused in the hall by the room that housed his brother for the night. It was strange to not share a room with him after all their years of travelling together, but… He shook his head at the brief pang of loneliness. Whatever Keir and Marcel were doing beyond the door, neither of them needed an audience, much less an overly protective older brother. As Keir had pointed out with some exasperation, he was perfectly capable of defending himself.

Besides, Qinlar thought as he moved forward, he had a roommate to deal with as well. He and Ver’saix had their own…. Relationship intrigues to sort through. He frowned, freezing at the door. Qinlar was self-aware enough to know that his feelings for the drow weren’t entirely platonic, but Ver’saix was a mystery, closed off and unsure of himself and the world at large.

No matter. What happened would happen, and Qinlar’s intention was to ensure that everyone was taken care of regardless of his own feelings.

He took a moment to gather his courage and knocked before opening the door. The room was still, and Qinlar took a second moment as his heart fluttered in his chest.

Ver’saix was asleep, though it was clear he hadn’t intended it. He was slumped over his journal, quill dangling limply in his hand and a jar of ink balanced precariously on the bedspread. His soft snores filled the room, and Qinlar suppressed a small, fond smile.

“Sai…?” he called softly. The drow did not stir, and Qinlar found himself thanking whatever gods were listening. Sai awake was tightly wound, on guard from any possible threat the unfriendly world could throw at a stranger from another land.

But asleep? He looked softer, at peace, and for a moment, Qinlar could almost see the lonely boy that had grown up surrounded by books and guided by a love of learning, and he felt his silent vow to protect him renew itself once more.

Qinlar sighed and placed the ink on the bedside table before carefully moving the quill and book from Sai’s grasp. He didn’t stir, and Qinlar gently shifted him to his side and covered him with a blanket.

He resisted the urge to kiss Sai’s forehead and turned to attend his own bedtime routine. Something caught the edge of his cloak, and he froze as he met sleepy, white eyes peering up at him from the top of the blanket.

“Qin…..?” Sai whispered, as though he wasn’t sure of reality.

“It’s alright, friend,” Qin whispered back. “Go back to sleep.”

“.... Okay. G’night.”

The fond smile returned, and this time, Qinlar couldn’t keep it from his face. He gave in to impulse and bent to brush his lips to Sai’s hair as he fell back to sleep.

“Goodnight, dear one.”