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#mine: oc
bloodbuzz-ohio · 8 months
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The O.C. "Premiere" aired 20 years ago on August 5, 2003. written by Josh Schwartz directed by Doug Liman
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emilybluntt · 10 months
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GRACE MUNCY & JOE VELASCO | Law & Order: Organized Crime 03x22 With Many Names
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ladyyennefer · 2 months
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Gathered up my courage and jumped in on @blind-dates-fest 2024 with a fandom I have not written for before (that’s in a time period I’m slightly terrified to write for)- so yay for getting outside the comfort zone!
I’ve also dropped a tiny morsel of my other OC that I had already created but have yet to introduce to the fandom while I was at it because, well, I can.
Thank you so much @mercurygray for hosting this wonderful event.
Without further ado, please let me introduce Cpl. Winifred “Winnie” Harris for the SAS: Rogue Heroes fandom.
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If there was one thing Winnie loved about Cairo, it was that the sun was always shining. Granted, it was hot and sticky, making sweat drip down her back, but it was bright and consistent and that was something to a girl who grew up with a weather pattern that changed by the hour. The sky was always blue too, and it was frequently the backdrop to an array of strange and beautiful birds that fascinated her. She would miss it when she returned home. 
If there is even a home to go back to, she thought miserably.
She knew what the papers reported, heard the gossip through headquarters, connected enough calls, that she inevitably thought of her father and little brother still at home. Though they insisted the bombings were far from them and everything was running as smoothly as ever, with the exception of the poor performing ram her father bought off the neighbor last spring, it was hard to chase the worry completely from her mind. 
The nature of war, she imagined. Everyone was worried about someone or something. All she had to do was look in the faces of those working around her to know that.
The green was bustling with activity; all the benches and a good portion of the grass had been claimed by people like her, taking a moment to enjoy the weather, some relaxing with lunches or a mid day nap, while others rushed across to finish their daily errands. Officers and enlisted personnel came and went from headquarters in a steady pace, most of them clean and fresh faced, their worries of the day involving various forms of paper shuffling, or perhaps the occasional bout of plotting, but she didn’t miss the few that wore the desert and the marks of war on their uniform. The look in their eyes told her all she needed to know. 
Tobruk had been hit again and the hospital had been inundated with the casualties all day. She’d spent much of her shift connecting lines in and out of the upstairs offices, the switchboard alight with demands from across the ocean and pleas for help from those still holding their ground, and it was only now, three hours past noon, that there had been a lull long enough that Winnie had been able to step away and eat the measly lunch that was provided. Not that anything looked appealing at the moment. It never looked particularly appealing, if she was to be honest, and it was a good thing that the Army did not rely on the promise of good food to up their recruitment numbers in the African campaign.
Beside her, a dirt covered mongrel leaned against her, its large brown eyes looking up at her in wonder. “I don’t think this is even fit for you to eat, but I can’t say no to a face like that.”  
The dog offered no complaint and finished the offering in two quick bites before giving her hand a nudge, demanding his customary post lunch pats.
Since she first landed in Cairo, Winnie had taken it upon herself to offer food to a friendly stray if they approached her and this one was just the latest of her wards. The unnamed pooch had joined her for lunch a few weeks back and since then he waited around for her each day to share a meal and receive some pats before they both went their separate ways. It was a bright spot in her day, and she liked to think it was one for him as well. 
Had the circumstances been different, Winnie would have brought him home the first day they’d met, hating the idea of him living on the streets, at the mercy of men who had hardened with war and on more than one occasion, had proven they had little empathy for the strays of Cairo, but the apartment she lived in was small and she didn’t dare push the hospitality of her roommate. 
Felicity wouldn’t have batted an eye, had Winnie brought the dog home, welcoming the four legged friend in with open arms, but Winnie felt like she had already imposed enough on her friend. Not only had Felicity offered up the spare bedroom of her apartment so Winnie didn’t have to stay in army housing, and left a standing invitation to her family’s Sunday dinners, but she was also tolerating a handful of misfit creatures that had already made their way home on various occasions. 
Currently, the apartment was a landing spot for a parrot that had belonged to a sailor, who had offered no promise of a return date, a litter of kittens that Winnie swore she was just feeding until they were big enough to go back to their home in the alley behind the apartment building, a mud colored terrier that had been rescued from a group of drunken enlisted men and was supposed to be going to Felicity’s parent’s house any day now, and a one eyed cat named Miss Fiz that had belonged to an elderly lady in the building who had passed away and had, on her own accord, claimed Winnie’s bed as her new home. 
They were, for better or worse, at full capacity.
“More wounded are expected,” she told the dog, “and General Auchinleck doesn’t seem to have an answer for the troops still holding position. None of the supplies are making it.”
The dog groaned in appreciation when she moved to scratch behind his ears.
“And you know those crates of champagne I told you about a couple weeks ago? Apparently, they were for some well to do for the upper brass. It would seem anyone with a pin on their shoulder in the greater Cairo area were enjoying themselves while men were getting shelled on the coast. What do you think about that?” 
“I imagine he doesn’t approve of it much.”
Startled, Winnie jerked her head up. A tall, lean soldier, his hair neatly parted on one side, stood in front of her. His army issued kaki was just like all the rest, worn but serviceable, and though his sunglasses hid his eyes, his face was clean and he didn’t smell like death, so she surmised he must be posted somewhere near the city rather than a man who came in from Tobruk.
“I would hope so.” Unfazed at being caught talking to a dog, a common occurrence at this point, she smiled up at the stranger. “But he doesn’t say much one way or the other, so for now, we’ll just have to put him on the side of the enlisted men.” 
The corner of the tall man’s mouth tipped up with amusement before he crouched down to the dog’s level and reached out to ruffle his ears. “Does your companion have a name?”
“Not yet.”
His brows drew down in confusion, but when he spoke it was to the dog and not her. “Well no wonder you don’t tell her much. What kind of owner doesn’t name their dog.”
It was Winnie’s turn to frown. “He’s not my dog. He’s a stray,” she said, indignantly. “Besides, I haven’t found a name that suits him yet.”
The man studied the dog’s face for a moment, squishing the skin up around the eyes like one the wrinkle faced pugs Winnie’s aunt used to own before releasing it and scratching his ears once more. “He seems like a Withers to me.”
“Withers? What kind of name is Withers?”
“A good one.”
She scoffed.
“And I suppose you would have preferred what… Scout? Or maybe Champ?”
“Actually, I had been thinking of calling him Milo.” She hadn’t been, he certainly didn’t look like a Milo to her, but she had to think of something. Anything would be better than Withers.
He huffed, his distaste of the name obvious.
“And what,” she searched for any sort of identification on his person, her eyes finally settling on the star on his shoulder, “is wrong with the name Milo, Lieutenant?”
“What’s wrong with the name Withers?” he countered.
“It’s a spot on a horse’s back, not a name for a dog.”
“Well, his shoulders sure stick out enough to look like a horse’s withers.”
He wasn’t wrong. Her lunch rations and the few bits she saved for him from her breakfast was not enough to keep him well fed. But something was better than nothing and he wasn’t running around skin and bones so she figured he was finding food elsewhere.
“Sadly, additional canine rations are not provided in the enlisted personnel’s lunch.”
“No, I imagine they aren’t. But I have a feeling he has eaten his fair share all the same.”
There wasn’t a hint of reprimand in his voice and Winnie found herself charmed by the stranger. “Perhaps, Lieutenant…”
“Fraser.” He rose from his spot beside the dog and extended a hand towards her. “Bill Fraser”
“Corporal Winifred Harris,” she said, ignoring his hand, instead saluting him as she rose. His face seemed to flush under the Egyptian sun and she couldn’t hide her amusement. “First time being saluted by a woman?”
The men at headquarters seemed to live and die by the gesture, if the way they puffed out their chest every time was any indicator, but Lieutenant Fraser was obviously uncomfortable with it. Either the men in the field were not as strict when it came to rank or it was just the fact that she was a woman that flustered him. Her bet was on the latter.
“No, that's not-” He stopped short. “Yes. And the formality isn’t required or wanted.”
She chuckled. “Fair enough.” At least he was honest, and she would never pass up a moment to forgo the formalities. 
“So Corporal Harris, what is it that you do in Cairo?” 
Between them, having been ignored long enough by the newcomer, the dog gave an annoyed huff and returned to his spot beside Winnie, once again leaning against her for a scratch, to which she obliged.
“I man the switchboards out of headquarters.” 
The lieutenant seemed to accept that position as reasonable, or that’s what she gathered from the idle nod he gave.
“Is it all that you thought it would be? Being a switchboard operator.”
Winnie couldn’t hold back her chuckle. While manning the board for a war headquarters offered much more activity than it did in her small village, she wouldn’t consider it particularly adrenaline pumping on the day to day front. But, it was something she knew how to do and the army had been scrambling to fill the positions. 
Besides, it got her off the farm and gave her the opportunity to see someplace new, and she was grateful for that.
“They weren’t hiring for shepherdess positions when I went to the enlistment office, so I had to offer up my next best skill. Not as picturesque, but at least it’s warm here.”
There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Not a need for sheep herders in Egypt, then?”
“Apparently not,” she lamented. “Too bad for them, I’ve got a lifetime of experience in sheep and only a few years at the switchboard, but I suppose that’s where they needed me the most.” 
“A lifetime huh?” 
Though hidden by glasses, she could feel his gaze roam over her, as if trying to pinpoint just how long a lifetime was. He could just keep trying to pinpoint it, too.
She smiled down at the dog as she spoke again. “And you? Who are you with?”
Bill idly rubbed at his chin, his previous train of thought seemingly forgotten as he gave heavy consideration to a question she thought was fairly straightforward. 
“The SAS.”
Winnie in no way considered herself an expert in all the units based out of Cairo, but the nature of her job meant she was fairly well versed with who was who and their locations and she was confident SAS was not in the area.
“SAS? Never heard of that unit before.”
“Imagine not.”
She arched a brow. He offered no more information and Winnie couldn’t help the curious bug that began to crawl through her. “Are you new to Cairo? I can’t say any unit remotely matching that name has come across my line before.”
The lieutenant scratched his head as he tilted it up to watch as a pair of plovers flew overhead, avoiding her gaze completely.
Pluvianus aegyptius she thought, distractedly. They were one of her favorites.
“You could say that,” he finally muttered.
His evasiveness only made her interest grow. An advantage to being stationed at headquarters was that it was where all the gossip started, official and unofficial, and it would only take a few shifts before she was able to figure out what she wanted to know about this mysterious regiment. 
“So, Lieutenant Fraser, you aren’t stationed at headquarters, and you don’t look, or smell, as if you came in with the wounded from Tobruk earlier, so forgive me for asking, but what brings you and your secret unit to this part of Cairo? Usually, men such as yourself prefer far more… amusing exploits on the other side of town.”
He didn’t seem insulted by her frankness or curiosity, which was a relief since she had never been very good with the delicacy of conversation. No matter how hard she tried, more often than not, she tripped over the line of propriety and straight into tactlessness.
“Had to drop paperwork off. The green is a nice detour back.”
“They sending you out?” There was the line and, again, she stomped right over it.
He chuckled. “Are you always this curious about all the soldiers you meet?”
Her face flushed, slightly embarrassed. “Most of the soldiers I meet are paper pushers. I know what their day consists of so I have no reason to ask them many questions.”
“Surely you meet more than just the ones that walk the halls there.” He gestured towards the main gate where trucks were waiting at the barricade of headquarters.
She didn’t, at least not regularly. Though she went out on occasion with some of the girls after shift and Felicity had drug her to several dinners at the Cairo Museum, she wasn’t what one would consider experienced in large cities, especially alone, and more often than not, she found herself curling up at home with Miss Fiz, sketching those strange yet fascinating birds, rather than going out. 
“Now who’s the curious one.”
That earned her a crooked smile and he raised his hands in surrender. 
She needed to head back inside, her shift at the board wasn’t over quite yet and it was past time that the dog should be headed off to wherever the next stop in his day was.
“I wish you and your unit luck, Lieutenant, wherever you are going next.” Wiping at invisible lint on her skirt, Winnie gave her new acquaintance a friendly smile. “It was nice to meet you, but I must be getting back to my wires.” She turned and began her way back across the green, the dog keeping pace by her side.
“Next time I am in the city, I may stop by,” she heard him yell. “To see how Withers is holding up!”
What do we have here? 
Winnie stooped and glanced at him over her shoulder. He was relaxed, hands crammed into the pockets of his shorts, and his mouth was kicked up in a lazy smile. She wasn’t sure what to make of the offer but decided it was strictly canine related. It had to be strictly canine related; she was going to let herself believe that there was still a soldier or two left in Cairo that had a soft spot for more than just women and rum.
With a casual wave over her shoulder, she kept walking and waited till she was a good distance away, letting her voice carry over the green like one of the strange birds that fascinated her. “I can’t guarantee that Milo will be around at that time, but it never hurts to stop by and check!”
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kirkwall-age · 8 months
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Oᴘᴀʟ Tʀᴇᴠᴇʟʏᴀɴ
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ackee · 3 months
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something ive realized about social media is that people like Character Design but they do not actually like ocs. you can make a zillion designs of like, a humanized fish or can of soda or flower or whatever and get thousands of likes. but once the novelty wears off and you actually want to Make something with the characters and give them a story (mini comics, a longform webcomic, animations etc) its like pulling teeth.
outside of your mutual circle, you will get one or two reblogs thats like "#i dont know what this is from but—" like they are just incapable of realizing there is art outside of fanart. i no longer blame people that go "oh this isnt my oc its actually just my au/take on [popular character this looks nothing like] from [big media everyone loves]" bc you literally cannot get people to engage w/ your art unless its a one off design or already connected to something .
man. idk where im going with this besides it feels like there's nowhere for ocs that arent gimmicky and marketable and it SUCKS !
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cityandking · 5 months
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oc asks: not-so-nice edition
alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?
betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?
bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?
break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?
desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?
failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?
fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?
future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?
ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?
guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?
hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?
heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?
hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?
hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?
mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?
midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?
mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?
monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?
nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?
pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?
secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?
skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?
torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?
wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?
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shmunter · 3 months
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some miscellaneous trolls drawings yippee
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joyjoy-ahoy · 9 months
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The Ghoul Girls 🎃🦇👻
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copkicker · 9 months
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posting this home-baked ms paint meme for public use :)
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bloodbuzz-ohio · 2 months
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marissa cooper + her yellow ralph lauren jumper in 1x18
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bluebird-ascended · 25 days
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ladyyennefer · 10 months
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Since finishing my VBB piece, the OC I never really intended to flesh out but was enticed to for a writing event has been camping out at the front of my mind. Because the desire to write for her will not go away, here is a post ‘Strife in London’ scene that opens the way for me to drag this lovely lady into future post season 2 Vikings: Valhalla creations because… well I can.
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She sought solace at the end of an empty dock, the ship that had moored there departing only the day before, loaded with soldiers and supplies to a place she did not know. The river below was calm, just beyond, the London bridge almost complete after the destruction it had suffered in the siege. She had not had the pleasure of witnessing the triumphant win of her people, but the story her father had told upon his return unfolded in her mind’s eye and Brigida could almost imagine being there.
It had always been her childhood dream to stand beside her father in battle, to feel the rush that her brother’s had spoken so fondly of, but her mother had made sure such a dream would not come to fruition. A shieldmaiden, she would never be, but if she looked hard enough, she might be able to consider herself a soldier of another sort, one that worked the battlefields of court rather than the open expanse of the land, and though there was little sword fighting to be had, Brigida knew it carried its own risk of bloodshed.
The sound of footsteps echoed against the weathered wood and she glanced over her shoulder to see Agnarr approaching, his brows creased in frustration. A frustration that was, most likely, aimed in her direction.
“If you are here to reprimand me for standing alone on the docks, I will begin to assume women in London cannot go anywhere without accompaniment.”
“Even if that were the case, I doubt you would heed such an order,” he retorted.
She could not help but smirk. The man was no fool, he knew the type of woman he was dealing with, though she had probably left him with little question; she did not imagine most women within London had a precedence for bucking his authority like she did.
He stood a ways back from the dock’s edge, not so close to entice idle gossip from the castle staff who may be watching, but she would not be able to ignore his presence. “Is the Queen in need of me?”
“Not that I am aware.”
Brigida waited expectantly for an explanation, but when nothing came she glanced again over her shoulder at the stoic Viking. “If you are not here to reprimand me and the Queen is not looking for me, pray tell, how can I be of service, Agnarr?”
Something akin to annoyance flickered across his features and Brigida could admit that her interest was piqued. Since the King had become aware of the favors she had assisted the Queen with, she had not been entrusted with further communications to transport. She had assumed that the situation was being handled by other means and her services for such things would no longer be required, but perhaps she had been mistaken.
“Are you at all friendly with Princess Gytha?”
The question caught Brigida off guard. She knew of Gytha, that the Queen cared deeply for her husband’s niece and how she had come to be married to Lord Godwin, but they were not on terms that would be considered friendly. Brigida had not been brought into the Queen’s circle until after Gytha had been married and prior to their common place of London, they had never interacted.
A raider’s daughter from across the sea, no matter what her lineage looked like, was rarely invited to keep company with a princess.
“I cannot say that I am.” Confused, Brigida turned her full attention to Agnarr. “My life prior to London did not allow for much interaction with the ladies of Denmark. Should I be?”
“Do you not like her?”
“I hardly know her well enough to have an opinion. She seems pleasant, but she has only just returned to the company of the Queen after being married.” Brigida’s eyes narrowed, the hair on the back of her neck prickling with the line of questioning. Even if she had a strong opinion of Gytha, Agnarr would not be the man she would share it with. “Has something happened?”
“To Princess Gytha? No. Like you said, she has just returned to London.”
A hollow feeling began to churn in her stomach, uneasy with his inquiries. Though she was not familiar with the princess, that did not mean that Birgida had not done something that the other woman took offense to and now Agnarr was being called out to make her answer for it. She had done quite a bit as of late and though she believed only the Queen to be in on the game, that did not mean others had not found out and now wished to use it against her.
“Forgive me, but I cannot see what my opinion of Princess Gytha has to do with, well, anything.”  
There was movement underneath his beard that she might be able to call a smile, if she was certain the man was capable of such a thing, and its appearance did not ease the apprehension that filled her.
“You have proven yourself to be quite the asset over the past few months. The Queen is grateful for it.”
The hollowness began to recede; she would wager that if the queen was singing her praises that would mean even if she had ruffled the wrong feathers, it would surely save her from the noose.
“It is nothing another lady would not do for her majesty.” 
She did not know where the line of questioning was going or what Gytha had to do with the ledgers she had obtained from Kent. Unless Agnarr had uncovered a connection to her new husband that had previously been overlooked, though it seemed thin at best. Brigida did not know Lord Godwin, only of him, but from the rumors she did not think there was much love lost between him and the other Elderman and connecting himself with their actions would go against his grain. 
“While others would not try, few would be as successful.”
“Careful, Agnarr,” the corners of her mouth lifted in mild amusement, “A more trusting female may mistake your words for a compliment.”
The flicker of a smile she had thought she’d seen quickly disappeared and was replaced by his normal stoic facade. “Then I will add that you may want to make your departure from places less obvious and take care about how you return. There is a rumor amongst the scullery maids that you are having an affair with one of the grooms.”
Brigida tried to muster up some sort of anger as such a farce of a rumor, but she could not find any. If that was what had come out of her comings and goings over the last few months, she could give a sigh of relief. She had imagined far worse to have spread, but it still did not explain his interest in her ties to Gytha.
“I will take that under advisement for the future, but you still have not explained what any of this has to do with Lord Godwin’s wife?”
Agnarr studied her for a moment, almost as if he was reluctant to utter his next thought, and moved past her to stand at the edge of the dock without saying a word, his shoulders scarcely bumping against her as he moved. “How much do you know about what happened within the Queen’s circle prior to your appointment?”
“A little.” Her brows furrowed, the hollow feeling returning as she too turned to face the river. “I know that the Princess had not been the original intended for Lord Godwin and that the King created the match after his return.”
“Princess Gytha became Godwin’s wife after the woman he intended to marry died. It was discovered she had a connection to a would be assassin that targeted the Queen.”
Brigida felt as if the dock beneath her gave way. A woman with such a connection would only meet her death a handful of ways and none of them would be pleasant. “The Lord’s intended was a Lady to the Queen, yes?” To discover that someone so close to the royal family would have such a relation and no one was aware seemed implausible to her.
Agnarr nodded. “Not only that, but she and Princess Gytha had quite a friendship. The Princess was devastated by her death.”
“And Lord Godwin?”
The usually unphased gaze of the Viking darkened and the tension that radiated around him gave away his true feelings about the man in question. “The Lord was very convincing.”
It was what Agnarr did not say that circled in her mind. If Gytha had truly been so impacted by such a loss, it would only seem to reason that the future husband would also appear to suffer deeply. It would be in mutual suffering that a bond could be forged, trust built, and a successful union formed. From the outside looking in, it would appear as if two people simply fell in love over the mutual loss of a friend and loved one.
It appeared the King’s second in command had a different take on the matter. “But you did not believe him?” She ventured.
His gaze flicked to hers for a moment before settling again on the horizon. “I was not the only one who had concerns.”
The Queen then, Brigida mused. She would not be one who would take treason lightly, particularly within her own circle, and she would not let sleeping dogs lie while others investigated such accusations. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Queen Emma was very hands on in her role.
The unfurling of such secret happenings within the walls of the castle were eye opening and, Brigida had to admit, a bit intriguing, but she still could not see where she would be involved. All of this had already passed.
“Why tell me this,” she finally asked, her gaze steady on the man beside her. She had no ties to London, no connection to the previous Lady’s maid and little influence outside the walls that would be of any benefit to Agnarr or the Queen. Hell, she had no influence within the walls, Agnarr has inferred as much when he mentioned the scullery maids thought she was bedding a groom. Surely, a woman of influence would be able to land a man of higher standing than that.
She was, simply, a Viking woman thrust into a Saxton world with little to offer besides the inclination for adventure and the dream to be something she could never be.
“You have proven yourself an ally to the Queen,” he murmured, “And have proven you have an eye and an ear for things that do not appear to be right.”
“I was not the one who dissected the ledger pages.”
“But you are the one who managed to come into possession of them,” he reminded her. “And you were the one who rode out, alone, to do your Queen’s bidding with little thought to reputation or risk.”
“As I told you in the stable that day, and in the courtyard weeks later, it was simply a ride. Nothing more.”
His snort of amusement was sign enough that he had long caught on to what she had been up to, or in part suspected, and simply had not stepped in to stop her and Brigida did not see a reason to argue. There was no denying he had been suspicious of her from the moment he had caught her in the stable alone that day and it would be only natural for such suspicions to grow as she continued her erratic flights from London.
“So, what is it that you are asking of me, Agnarr? You have said a lot of words standing here but told me very little.”
The verbal barb seemed to irritate him, like nettle against skin, but when he spoke again, he met her gaze. “With Princess’s Gytha’s return to London and her connections now changed, she may be in need of a friend.”
Brigida arched her brow. She had barely managed to befriend the ladies she was in close daily contact with, how would she manage such a task with one that she hardly knew. “And you think I am the best fit for that role?”
“I think you and the princess come from like families and that she would find it easier to confide in someone of similar background than one whose home has always been London.”
She was to be a confidant to the lady of a Lord, one whom the crown seemed to have concerns about. It was Agnarr’s way of putting eyes and ears into places he would otherwise be excluded. Afterall, a Lady’s maid with similar background was far less intimidating and more plausible a friend to a fellow woman than a King’s soldier.
“You want me to spy for you, then. Is the Queen on board with this?”
Something shifted in his gaze, a flicker of shadow that she was not even certain was there. “The Queen would not turn down a trusted allie’s assistance.”
What he meant to say, she surmised, was that the Queen was ignorant to the plan that her husband’s man was putting in play. And yet, he felt strongly enough to make the move all the same. For all the irritation the man had stoked in her through their previous encounters, the one thing she did trust in him was his instinct. If he was concerned enough to approach her on such a matter, given their testy acquaintance up to now, it spoke mountains about the possible threats that lingered under their nose and what he thought of her previous deeds for the crown. 
Brigida pondered the repercussions of taking on such a position and noticed that he made no promises of safety or protection should any part of this discussion be discovered; and yet, she found little worry in that. She had never considered it when helping the queen find proof against the Ealdorman of Kent so why would she be concerned about such a thing now.
“I cannot make any promises that I am an agreeable female to others or that I can be of much comfort to the Lord’s new wife, but I certainly can offer any support that Princess Gytha may need. After all, she is still a Viking.”
Agnarr’s beard twitched once more, seemingly pleased with the outcome of his discussion and with a discreet nod of thanks, he turned on his heel and retreated towards the castle wall. That was all she would get from him, she imagined, nothing more than a nod and an expectation for answers, but as the waters crashed against the dock and gulls flapped overhead, Brigida could not help the tremor of excitement that coursed through her.
No, she would never wear the armor of a shieldmaiden, but there was no question that she too was a soldier.
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kirkwall-age · 8 months
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My whole kingdom to the author of this mod: Main Character Height (Scale)
I desired my new Trevelyan to be taller than average. She's transfemme and I just envisioned her as quite tall, even post-magical-transition.
BOOM! Look at her:
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INSTANT SEROTONIN
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noahsresources · 11 months
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details about ocs!
send an emoji/description of emoji to learn more about a writer's oc! many of these are taken from my munday asks meme, because i thought it would be fun to make a version for characters too! the prompts are categorized by emoji type and given descriptions in case anyone can't see the symbols. can be used for roleplayers and any general writers alike! for roleplayers, these can also be used for your interpretations of canon characters if you so desire as well!
𝐎𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐒. 💭 THOUGHT BALLOON — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)? 🚗 CAR — does your oc have a driver's license? can they drive/operate any automobiles/machinery besides cars? ✈️ AIRPLANE — does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person? 🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies? 💍 RING — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings? 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos? 📚 BOOKS — what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)? 🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)? 🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities? 🩸 DROP OF BLOOD — what is your oc's blood type?
𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐒. 🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. 💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits? 🔱 TRIDENT EMBLEM — can your oc swim? do they enjoy swimming? 🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons? 🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise? 🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?
𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄. 🌈 RAINBOW — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use? 🎄 CHRISTMAS TREE — what is your oc's favorite holiday? 🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets? 🐈 CAT — does your oc prefer a wide circle of friends or a few close friends? 🐷 PIG FACE — what is your oc's favorite animal? 🐉 DRAGON — what is your oc's favorite mythical creature? 🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school? 🌴 PALM TREE — does your oc have a green thumb? do they enjoy gardening? 🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?
𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒. ❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits? 🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits? 💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits? 💘 HEART WITH ARROW — what and/or who do(es) your oc consider the most important to them? 🧡 ORANGE HEART — does your oc tend to prioritize family or friends? 💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any? 💚 GREEN HEART — does your oc prefer being inside or outside? 💙 BLUE HEART — does your oc have any cool/special powers and/or abilities? how are they with magic, if it exists in their world? 💜 PURPLE HEART — what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background? 🖤 BLACK HEART — has your oc killed or seriously wounded anyone before? have they broken someone's heart and/or broken someone's trust?
𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒. 🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE — when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? 🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)? 🍰 SHORTCAKE — what is/are your oc's favorite sweet(s)/dessert(s)? 🍦 SOFT ICE CREAM — what is/are your oc's favorite ice cream flavor(s)? 🍔 HAMBURGER — is your oc good at cooking? are they good at baking? which one do they prefer? 🥯 BAGEL — what does your oc's typical breakfast look like? do they usually eat breakfast? 🥪 SANDWICH — what does your oc's typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch? 🍛 CURRY AND RICE — what does your oc's typical dinner look like? do they usually eat dinner? 🍸 COCKTAIL GLASS — what is your oc's favorite alcoholic drink, if they can drink? ☕️ HOT BEVERAGE — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?
𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄. 😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life? 😖 CONFOUNDED FACE — is your oc an introvert, an extrovert, or an ambivert? do they let people in easily, or are they more reserved? 🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms? 🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional? 🤓 SMILING FACE WITH GLASSES — is your oc chatty or quiet? are they at ease in social situations, or are they more shy? 🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions? 😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool? 😓 DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT — is your oc open-minded or stubborn? are they inquisitive or do they prefer to keep to their bubble of knowledge? 😞 DISAPPOINTED FACE — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone? 🤒 FACE WITH THERMOMETER — does your oc get sick easily? 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 FAMILY WITH MOTHER, FATHER, SON AND DAUGHTER — how many people are in your oc's immediate family? how many people are in your oc's extended family? do they have aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc? who in their family are they closest with? are they close with their birth family, or do they have a found family?
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vampiresex69 · 6 months
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worms in my brain
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vintagecandy · 2 months
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So I've been sort of in a rut lately uh-- and when that happens I know I need to stop every bigger project and just draw whatever random thing I most feel like. this is my equivalent of doodling monsters on my math homework but its angels
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