inspired by similar things I’ve seen around the web, I made a compilation of vines with the characters from the dnd game I play with my friends :D
Featuring: Lyra the elf bard; Nija the tiefling warlock; Eirianwen the dwarf druid; Elariah the human barbarian; Zanna the gnome rogue; Rowan the oni cleric; Oleander the half-dragon sorcerer; and several of our DM’s fabulous NPCs!
we’re not all on tumblr but @androzani @mnaxiontach @hereticalteapot @seldaran come get ya chirren
For the prompts: 92. "Are you drunk?" and 113. "Where did all these puppies come from?" :D
since i’ve just done 113 for megan with mheganni, i’ll just do number 92! hope you enjoy~
Beaches, Malia decided, were great. Especially with a big bottle of something alcoholic and a bigger campfire.
(Being on the run was less great, but, hey, you gotta look for the good in life, right?)
The night was cool, but not cool enough to make her cold--not with all the warm things around: the breeze from the ocean, the slowly-dwindling fire, the alcohol in her belly, and Fenris’ body pressed against the length of hers. She turned her head, and when her lips touched his shoulder, she pressed a kiss there with a happy little hum. He chuckled, and it was warm, too, a soul-nourishing sound. She would never tire of hearing it, of that she was certain.
His nose dragged along her hair, and he pressed a kiss of his own to the top of her head.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, though the words came out a bit malformed as she insisted on keeping her face against his skin, unwilling to lose that point of contact. “I’m glad you came with us.”
“As am I,” he said, “even if our company leaves something to be desired.”
She snorted and bit his shoulder for the comment. Not hard--honestly, she’d done harder when they had sex--but enough for him to get the gist. He just chuckled again, and she huffed.
“I heard that!” shouted their company, better known by the name of Anders, unnecessarily loud, given that he was mere feet away. Garrett laughed and made shushing sounds. “No, you shush! He’s shit-talking me again!”
“I am not shit-talking you, mage,” Fenris replied, at a much more reasonable tone. “Nor did I say your name. Perhaps I was speaking of Garrett.”
“Were you?” Garrett asked.
“No.”
“SEE?!” Anders shouted. Garrett put a hand over his mouth, but got licked for the trouble, prompting a quick retreat and accompanying sound of disgust.
“Anders, love, how old are you?”
Anders spat onto the ground. “Bleugh, sand!” He didn’t answer the question. “I hate sand.”
“More or less than you hate me?” Fenris asked.
“You’d come out of my mouth easier!”
At that response, Malia fell into a fit of giggles. Fenris, uncertain how to respond, stayed quiet for a moment. Garrett sighed, loudly and with his entire body. “Mage,” Fenris said, slowly, “are you drunk?”
Anders thought about it, then spat out more sand. “Yes.”
“Is that why the bottle was nearly empty when I got to it?” Garrett asked. “I thought it was Malia’s fault. She’s definitely a little drunk.”
“It was good wine. Fenris has good taste in that, at least.”
“Uh-huh.” Garrett stood, then leaned down to pick Anders up. It took a couple tries--Garrett was strong, yes, but Anders was tall and uncooperative. “We’ll see you in the morning. It’s his bedtime. Be responsible, unlike this lump.” He patted Anders’ ass for emphasis, which only prompted Anders to pat his ass in retaliation.
“The bar is set low, then,” Fenris said. He and Malia bid Garrett and Anders goodnight, then continued to lay by the dying campfire.
“I have another bottle,” Malia confided, a touch too loud to be secretive, but they were alone on the beach now, with only wildlife to overhear. “They didn’t know. Wanna be irresponsible?”
Oh wow this is so cool! I’m sansei (possibly yonsei) Canadian, and half-Japanese. My dad’s great-grandparents, all four of them, came over to Canada before the war and had my grandparents and their siblings on the West Coast. I was also given my great-grandmother’s name as a middle name. Is this all part of a trend or some huge coincidence????
haha that’s super cool! Originally my mom wanted to name me after her mother (Yoko, hence part of why I use it online as a handle). My Great-grandmother’s name means “to pass down from one generation to the next” so it was a super neat thing to inherit from her :3
seldaran replied to your post: Hey guuyyyys long time no chat. Been prrrretty...
Are you including dairy, eggs, or fish into your diet? In that case, perogies, pizza, and creamy soups are some of my faves. Otherwise, vegetable maki sushi (the little rolls), burritos (sans meat and dairy, naturally), ratatouille, rice pudding, and apple crisp are what come to mind.
Dairy and eggs yes, fish no. Those all sound good, thanks a million! 8D
If the fey are real here, do you think youkai and other "spirits" are, too? I've got an idea for a short piece and would really like to know.
Yeah! I imagine that the Elsewhere and the creatures in it are by and large relatively shapeless, fluid things, and they take on a more specific form and follow more specific rules when they interact with the real world, as reality necessitates a more concrete, logical existence and belief shapes what exactly it should be - so it varies by location, based on the folklore in the bones of the land of each thin space, but also by the specific individuals interacting with the Gentry. So international students often find themselves interacting with creatures from their own culture (some of whom stick around for a while as more students begin to expect them). I hope that makes sense!
For the prompts: 25. "I'm sick.", or 43. "You're special to me." :DDDD
hello, angst, nice to see you again, though i guess you never really left, now, did you?
Zevran knew. In some corner of his mind, he knew. He wasn’t stupid--he hadn’t been told directly, but enough things had been let slip that he’d made the connections, and he didn’t like the picture they painted.
Theron didn’t say anything. Not at first, when the Blight was still the most prominent thing in their minds. Zevran didn’t put it together then, even though enough of the pieces were present that he probably could have.
He didn’t put it together in the immediate aftermath, either. He first figured it out when they received a letter from Castor. ‘It wasn’t a cure. Just a trap.’ The words were worse than disappointing. Theron had held him close and cried, he remembered.
He’d put the pieces together then. There were few things that could affect Theron so, and while his love was not frightened by death, Zevran knew he was terrified of what the Blight, the taint, could do. He knew Grey Wardens were tainted, had been told (in whispers behind closed doors) that it was why only a Grey Warden could kill the Archdemon, understood that this form of the taint had saved Theron’s life... and doomed it.
It was before killing the Masters that Theron told him.
“Zev, mir elgara,” Theron said, quietly, into the dark as they lay in bed, “there is something you should know.”
“What is it, mi amor?” Zevran answered, trailing a comforting hand along Theron’s arm.
“I’m sick.”
Zevran’s hand stilled for only a moment, then continued its path. His heart squeezed itself into his throat, and he leaned in close enough to feel Theron’s living warmth against his face. “...I know, mi amor.”
“The taint...”
“Si, I know.” He reached out with both arms and brought Theron as close to his body as possible, like he could draw the taint into his own blood, too, so he might never be without his love. “I know. How long do you have?”
There was a long silence. “I don’t know. Alistair said... most Wardens have thirty years, give or take. But I--I was sick, even before the Joining. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if I will have so long.”
Thirty years. That was longer than Zevran had dared hope for. He had been dreading this conversation more than necessary, perhaps. “Our friends are looking for a cure, are they not?”
“Daylen is.” How Theron knew what Daylen was up to--that, Zevran never could figure out, but Zevran had never managed to get along so well with Daylen. “I asked if Vir’era knew anything, but...”
Their little oracle could not know everything. It hurt that this would be the gap in his knowledge, and Zevran was not so prideful that he would pretend he did not hate that fact, but he could not be upset with Vir’era for it. After all, Vir’era was Blighted, too, in the same boat as Theron. If he knew anything helpful, he would say so.
Zevran kissed Theron, hard but brief. “I will stay by your side for as long as you will allow it, mi amor. This I have sworn before, but I will swear it again, as often as you need. I will search for a cure with you, if that is what you desire. The Crows might follow, but they will not stop me.”
Theron held Zevran’s face, staring in adoration. “Ar lath ma,” he whispered. “I love you, Zevran Arainai. We will finish our business with the Crows, first, and then we will help Daylen. We have time enough for that, I think.”
Time enough for that indeed. Zevran kissed his beloved, vowing silently to the Maker and the Creators (just in case) that, even when Theron’s time came, whatever the Calling entailed, he would stay by Theron’s side. Come Blight or blizzard, Zevran would be there.
Hey so uh my brother recommended your story, Walk Two Lifetimes, to me a while ago and I've been hooked ever since. I may or may not have binged To Love A Monster when I ran out of WTL chapters. I wanted to tell you that I really enjoy your writing, and that the way you've brought the characters to life, and the way you've developed the romance (which in other stories has often led to me losing interest, and yet, in yours, has only made the whole thing that much better) are all so awesome!
